Echo Come Home

by Megan Rix

  The back of the dog warden’s van didn’t have any windows so Bones couldn’t see out. But he heard the sound of children calling to each other in a school playground as they drove past.

  Jake didn’t play with the other children before school or at breaktimes. Instead he spent his time standing alone by the iron railings that went all the way round the playground, looking out. He saw the dog warden’s van, with the painted pawprints on the side, drive past. He wished he could be in it, speeding off somewhere. Anywhere other than school would be fine.

  He rubbed at his tired eyes and yawned. People thought when you couldn’t hear that you just existed in a world of silence, like you were living at the bottom of a well. But it wasn’t like that for Jake, although sometimes he wished it were. He might not be able to hear what was going on around him, but his head was sometimes so full of whistling, hissing or drilling sounds that they drowned out all other noises and made it very hard to concentrate and almost impossible to sleep at night.

  The noise in his head was called tinnitus. Jake tried to ignore it, but sometimes that was really difficult and it kept him awake. Even putting a pillow over his ears and pressing down hard didn’t stop it.

  When he was five, Jake had contracted meningitis, which left him with severe hearing loss in both ears. With his hearing aids in, he could follow a conversation so long as there wasn’t much background noise, but if there was then he had to rely on lip-reading to help him understand.

  It had been different at his old school. Everyone there knew him before he was deaf, and he’d had a communication support worker called Maxine to help him. She’d made sure he didn’t fall behind in his schoolwork as well as helping him learn sign language and how to lip-read.

  When they moved to the other side of town, Jake and his sister Vicky had started at a new school and everything had changed. There was no communication support worker to repeat what the teacher said if Jake hadn’t understood the first time and so keeping up was much harder.

  It was all right for Vicky. She loved their new school and had made tons of friends in no time at all. But he hadn’t.

  When Jake looked back, the other children were already heading inside. The bell must have rung. High-pitched sounds were much harder for him to hear than lower noises.

  Jake pushed his hands deep into his pockets and followed them.

  He could tell whether the other children were laughing or shouting at each other by the expressions on their faces and body language. If they kept still, and he looked at their lips, he could lip-read what they were saying. But he didn’t like looking at other people. So he stared down at his own feet instead, not catching anyone’s eye.

  ‘Morning, Jake,’ a red-headed boy called Tony said, as Jake made his way across the classroom, but Jake didn’t look round because he hadn’t heard him.

  He sat by himself at a double desk at the front, concentrating hard on the teacher’s lips as she took the register. To make sure he didn’t miss what the teacher said, he had to watch her lips all the time as well as hear some of what she said with his hearing aids.

  Some of the letters appeared very similar to each other when he tried to lip-read them. The letters ‘P’ and ‘B’ looked almost the same and numbers were particularly tricky.

  ‘Tony Mills,’ Miss Dawson read out, and Jake looked over as Tony, two rows back, put his hand up.

  ‘Here, miss.’

  It was easy to lip-read the names of the other children in the class when the teacher kept her head up. But when she looked down at the register, or held it in front of her face instead, it was just about impossible.

  ‘Sanjay d’Silva?’

  ‘Here, miss.’

  ‘Meena Nawaz?’

  ‘Here, miss.’

  ‘Amos Jones?’

  ‘Here, miss.’

  ‘Chloe Cartwright?’

  ‘Here, miss.’

  ‘Jake Logan?’

  Miss Dawson looked over at Jake.

  ‘Jake Logan,’ she repeated, as she lowered the register so he could see her lips.

  ‘Here, miss,’ Jake said.

  Although the truth was he wished he weren’t there. He wished he didn’t have to go to school. He wished the second hand of the clock on the wall weren’t so slow. At least it was Friday.

  By the time the dog warden pulled up at the animal rescue centre, Bones wasn’t in the crate she’d put him in any more. The little Border terrier cross wasn’t the first dog to have escaped from a dog crate and the warden was ready with her thick gloves on and caught him as he tried to jump out of the van.

  ‘We should call you Little Houdini,’ she said, chuckling, as Karen, who ran the rescue centre, came to join her. ‘He’s one smart dog. I’ve had reports of him for weeks, but it took until today to catch him.’

  ‘Definitely Border terrier, judging by his overgrown coat, but I’m not sure what he’s crossed with,’ Karen said, as she noted Bones’s bright eyes and white teeth. ‘He’s not very old. Not even two I’d say. Just a puppy really.’

  ‘A very dirty puppy,’ said the dog warden, as the little dog looked up at her.

  Karen nodded. ‘His fur’s really thick and matted. He’ll feel so much better once I’ve given him a good bath and a haircut. Do you think he’s been microchipped?’

  The dog warden shook her head. ‘Seems like too much of a stray,’ she said. ‘But still worth giving it a go.’

  Karen ran the microchip detector over the nape of Bones’s neck where the microchip should be and then over the rest of his back in case it had slipped. Nothing showed up on the screen.

  ‘Just as I thought,’ the dog warden said.

  ‘Rehoming in seven days then,’ said Karen. ‘Only …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Lenny from Helper Dogs is coming over tomorrow. I’d like to show this little chap to him, unless his owner comes forward before then, of course.’

  ‘Can’t hurt.’

  ‘Seems a shame not to – after all, he’s not likely to be claimed and Lenny might want him,’ Karen said.

  The dog warden’s phone rang. This time it was someone complaining about a noisy dog. She was still talking on the phone as she went out to her van with a wave and a thumbs up to Karen.

  ‘Right, Little Houdini,’ Karen said, once the dog warden had gone. ‘Time for a bath.’ She put on a waterproof apron, because dog bathing could involve a lot of splashing, and picked up a muzzle. As soon as he saw it, Bones turned his head away. But he really didn’t have a choice.

  ‘That’s it,’ Karen said, once the muzzle was over his mouth and secure. The little dog stared at her in utter misery, but he had to be bathed and that was that. Some dogs loved water, but others hated it, or just didn’t like being clean, and Karen didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with Little Houdini by putting him in a situation where he panicked and tried to bite her.

  Nevertheless the little dog’s body trembled with fear and she could feel his heart racing as she lifted him into the metal dog bath.

  ‘Hush now, it’s OK,’ Karen said, as she turned on the water and lifted the shower hose. But Bones didn’t stop shaking.

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ Karen said, trying to calm him down, as she ran warm water over his coat. Then she picked up the dog shampoo and lathered it over his long, matted fur. She could feel his ribs, but he wasn’t underweight like most of the strays that were brought in.

  ‘That’s it,’ she said, as she rinsed him. ‘All done.’

  The little dog tried to escape from the dog bath and scrambled out as soon as his ordeal was over.

  ‘Lucky I have this towel,’ Karen said, as she caught him in it and started rubbing him dry. Bathing him first meant the matted clumps were easier to cut away. By the time Karen had finished grooming him, Little Houdini looked like a completely different dog and a lot smaller.

  ‘You must feel so much better now that matted fur is gone,’ Karen said, looking at the smooth-coated dog. ‘And you look a lot
more handsome.’

  Little Houdini whined. Karen took a small dog biscuit from a treat jar and offered it to him. The dog took it from her and crunched it up. But when Karen reached out a hand to stroke him he cowered away.

  ‘Come and have a cuddle,’ she said, patting her lap and holding her hands out to him.

  All the dogs she’d ever known had liked cuddles. But not Little Houdini. He sat down close to her to eat the second biscuit she gave him, but not on her lap and not near enough for her to even give him a stroke.

  ‘Poor little love,’ Karen said. ‘What did someone do to you to make you so scared?’

  When he’d finished eating the second biscuit, she put a collar on him and clipped a lead to it.

  ‘I’m sure someone will want you for a pet if no one comes forward to claim you,’ she said, as she took him over to the kennels that were to be his new temporary home. She wished more people would come to the rescue centre and take a dog or a cat home with them. There were so many dogs and cats looking for a home and such lovely animals too. It was so unfair.

  Little Houdini sniffed at the other dogs in their kennels as they passed them. The residents of the rescue centre ranged from pedigrees to cross-breeds, Great Danes to chihuahua crosses. Most had been given up due to family circumstances or the ill health of their owner. Some had to be removed because of cruelty or neglect. But a few, like Little Houdini, had been found wandering the streets.

  The kennel Karen took him to had been hosed down, but it still smelt of the different dogs that had lived there before.

  ‘In you go now.’

  There was a fresh bowl of water in the corner and Bones had a long drink from it. Around him he could hear the other dogs, but he couldn’t see them any more. He whimpered and lay down on the brown dog bed.

  CHAPTER 3

  The lesson before lunch was English.

  ‘I want you to write down a wish,’ Miss Dawson told the class.

  Jake did his best to keep on lip-reading her when she stood up and started moving about.

  ‘It could be a small wish, such as I wish it was fish and chips for dinner tonight, or it could be a big wish like I wish I was famous – only you’d have to think of what you’d like to be famous for. It could be a real wish or a wish that you make up, like I wish I could ride on a dinosaur or I wish I could fly. I want you to write a paragraph in five minutes starting …’ She looked down at her watch. ‘Now!’

  Jake chewed on his pen. A wish. He only had one at the moment.

  ‘I wish I had a dog,’ he wrote. But that wasn’t a paragraph so he carried on. ‘It could be a big dog or a little one. I don’t care about that. It can be any colour or breed or cross-breed. Most of all I’d like a hearing dog, but if I can’t have one of those then any dog would do. I want a dog to be my friend.’

  ‘That’s it. Time’s up,’ the teacher said after five minutes. ‘Now who wants to read their wish out?’ Most of the class put their hands up, but Jake didn’t. He never raised his hand if he didn’t have to.

  ‘I wish I had more wishes,’ said Chloe. ‘There are so many things I want!’

  ‘Good one.’

  ‘I wish I could jump all the way to the moon and back again,’ said Moses.

  ‘I wish I lived in a castle …’ said Kiera.

  ‘I wish I was a millionaire …’ said Raj.

  ‘I wish my dad would come back to live with us …’ said Adam.

  Jake looked down at the wish he’d scrawled across his piece of paper. His dad was often away for work – sometimes weeks at a time – but he always came home again. Jake missed him when he was gone.

  ‘What was your wish, Tony?’ the teacher asked.

  ‘I wish I had a dog, miss,’ Tony said.

  But Jake didn’t hear his answer and he’d stopped lip-reading to reread his own wish.

  ‘I want everyone to expand their paragraph into a page now,’ the teacher said, and Jake started to write about all the things he’d like to do with his dog, if he had one.

  The lesson seemed to go much more quickly than usual and, when the bell rang for lunchtime, Jake followed the others out.

  The school hall, which was also used for PE and assemblies, was exceptionally loud at lunchtimes. Jake found it just about impossible to hear anything as the voices melted into one another, creating one giant roaring sound.

  He sat at a table with the rest of his class and pushed the food around on his plate. He didn’t know that Tony had spoken to him until Tony touched his plate with his fork and then Jake looked up.

  ‘This food’s yuck,’ Tony said, and Jake lip-read him and then grinned as Tony pretended to be sick.

  ‘No messing about,’ said the dinner lady.

  Jake didn’t hear the actual words, but he knew what she meant by her cross look. He looked down at his plate, still pushing his food around, and missed seeing Tony rolling his eyes.

  As he took his plate back, he saw his little sister, Vicky, laughing with her friends. Vicky was in Year Three and everything was different for her. She didn’t care how noisy the hall was. She could hear.

  After school was over, Jake went along to the club for deaf and hard-of-hearing children that was held at the local youth centre. He enjoyed going there because they had a snooker table and a table-tennis table and video games. Sometimes they even went on trips to the seaside or the theatre. Jake liked it when they went to the signing pantomimes at Christmas. The rest of his family weren’t as quick at signing as he was and so it took them all much longer to get any of the jokes. That made Jake laugh even more.

  If a few of the children wanted to see a particular movie, the club would arrange a trip to the local cinema. Most cinemas had a loop system that they could tune into with their hearing aids.

  Best of all, Jake liked going to the club because he could use sign language and the others there understood him and signed back. He also looked forward to it because Heather, who ran the club, had a hearing dog.

  ‘I want one too,’ Jake said, and he made the sign for dog, which looked like a dog moving two paws up and down and panting. He sat down beside her black Labrador, Bruno, and stroked his big old head. ‘We’ve got a meeting at Helper Dogs tomorrow, but they told Mum there’s a long waiting list,’ he said, and Heather nodded as she lip-read him.

  ‘Don’t give up,’ she signed.

  Jake sighed and shrugged. He’d spoken more at the club in the few minutes that he’d been there than he had all day at school.

  Before she’d started working with animals, Karen hadn’t known how well they could tell the time. But she’d soon found out that it wasn’t only humans who knew what should be happening and when. Animals did too, especially once a daily routine was established. The dogs at the centre all knew when it was feeding time and started barking and whining as Karen made her way round the kennels with the squeaky trolley, bringing bowls of food and fresh water for each dog.

  When Karen gave Little Houdini his bowl of dried dog food, at first he just stared at it and then looked up at her.

  ‘Go on then, Little Houdini,’ Karen said. ‘Eat up.’

  All the other dogs had gobbled up their food as soon as she’d put the bowl down. But not Little Houdini.

  Finally, he sniffed at it. The dried food didn’t have the same delicious smells that he was used to and there wasn’t so much as a single noodle in the tin bowl. He licked up a bit and crunched on it. Not bad. Not good either. But it was food and that was the main thing. He took another bite and then another as Karen watched and smiled from the other side of the bars.

  ‘That’s it.’

  When the centre quietened down for the night, Bones looked at the bolt on the door of his kennel and the smaller hatch for putting food and water tins through. It was used for the more aggressive or very nervous dogs. The hatch was small, only a little bigger than a cat flap. But that didn’t stop him from squeezing through it.

  The other dogs watched from their kennels as the little dog trotted
past them along the concrete floor to the exit.

  CHAPTER 4

  When Karen arrived the next morning, she found Little Houdini curled up on the comfy chair reserved for visitors. There was an empty packet of shortbread biscuits, also reserved for visitors, on the floor beside the chair and crumbs all over his furry face.

  ‘I see you’ve made yourself at home,’ Karen said.

  He’d made it all the way to the exit, but wasn’t able to escape because the door was locked.

  Bones jumped off the chair, wagging his tail when he saw her. But when she reached out instinctively to stroke him he turned and jumped back up.

  ‘Sorry,’ Karen said. She hadn’t meant to frighten him. ‘Let’s get you back to your kennel.’ She clipped a lead to his collar and the two of them headed to the dog kennels, then Karen went to get all the dogs and cats their breakfast.

  As she filled the different-sized food bowls, she couldn’t help worrying about Little Houdini. How on earth was she going to be able to rehome a dog that didn’t like to be stroked? Her only hope for him was Helper Dogs. They often trained rescue dogs as assistance dogs if they showed potential. Lenny said all dogs deserved a second, third and fourth chance. Maybe Helper Dogs could help Little Houdini get over his fear. She really hoped that they’d take him. Too many dogs were left unwanted and unclaimed.

  ‘Are you looking for any special sort of dog today?’ Karen asked Lenny, when he arrived at the rescue centre at a little after ten.

  Lenny shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter to me if it’s big or small, pedigree or cross-breed. What I’m after is a dog that reacts to sounds. A dog that’ll jump up and bark when the postman’s still up the road from your house,’ he told Karen in his soft Scottish burr. ‘A dog that’ll jump up when the phone rings or if it hears an unusual sound. Lots of pet dogs don’t react, but some do and those make good hearing dogs because they’re sound-sensitive.’

  Karen thought Little Houdini might have all the makings of a hearing dog, but, as she explained to Lenny, she was still worried about him not wanting to be stroked. It was odd because he was such a friendly dog and obviously liked people. She found it quite heart-breaking when he backed away in fear because she knew he would be such a loving dog once he was sure he could trust a person.