Dear Hound

by Murphy, Jill

  Charlie’s mum let out a huge sigh. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Just one more lot and one more look, then that’s it, Charlie. You just have to face it. He isn’t coming back. It’s sad, it’s awful, but the miracle just isn’t going to happen.’

  Charlie left his toast and went to pull on his coat and his lucky light-up trainers. While his mum was getting ready, he hurried outside and leaned over the front gate.

  He hadn’t sent his magic thought waves out for weeks, what with school and the cold weather. Now he fixed his eyes on the end of the road where he had watched Jenny’s van drive Alfie away all those months ago and sent a tsunami full of more than hope, full of absolute belief that Alfie would be there this one last time.

  ‘Ready, darling?’ called his mum.

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ said Charlie. ‘I’m out here, ready and waiting. Let’s go.’

  A grey dawn had broken on the strange little group huddled outside the foxes’ den. Alfie was in a bad way, half awake, whimpering and panting. Sunset got up and examined Alfie’s damaged leg, stretched out in the gloom. It was covered in dried blood, with a cluster of dark holes right in the centre of the top part.

  ‘How does it feel, Alf ?’ asked Fixit, nudging Alfie awake. ‘It’s stopped bleeding, so that’s a good thing.’

  ‘Hurts,’ whined Alfie. ‘Hurts worse – am I going to die?’

  ‘Course not,’ soothed Sunset. ‘We’ll work out what to do, won’t we, Fixit?’

  ‘Definitely,’ agreed Fixit, though he didn’t have the faintest idea what on earth they could do to help. ‘First of all, I’ll go for a quick scavenge and fetch us some breakfast.’

  ‘Don’t go yet,’ said Sunset, feeling a bit jittery about being left alone with the anxious invalid. ‘I’m not very hungry anyway.’

  ‘Neither am I,’ said Alfie miserably. ‘And I’m always hungry. I’m going to die, aren’t I? You just don’t want to tell me.’

  He let out a volley of yelps.

  ‘Shhh!’ said Sunset. ‘I promise you’re not going to die, all right? I know about these things.’

  ‘Do you?’ asked Alfie, brightening up.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ replied Sunset firmly. ‘Now just lie still while we think up our plan of action.’

  Sunset and Fixit wandered to the edge of the narrow pathway in the undergrowth, which they had hollowed out as they made their way to and from their den each day.

  ‘He’s in a really bad way,’ said Sunset. ‘We can’t just leave him here. His leg won’t heal up on its own. What are we going to do?’

  ‘For once,’ said Fixit, ‘I really have no idea whatsoever.’

  They sat down, leaning against each other, watching the morning light grow stronger. After a while, they glanced back at Alfie, who had slipped into a light sleep, making little yipping noises.

  ‘I’ll go and find us some food,’ said Fixit. ‘I’ll try to make a plan while I’m looking.’

  He bustled off through the bushes and Sunset went back to Alfie. She stretched herself out along his back to keep him warm.

  ‘Don’t leave me,’ murmured Alfie.

  ‘Course not,’ said Sunset.

  Charlie and his mum arrived on the heath and systematically repostered as much of the area as they could. They had made some new posters on their computer, with an extra bit saying that Alfie would look older and scruffier by now and offering a reward.

  ‘We should have offered a reward the first time,’ said Charlie.

  ‘I know,’ said his mum. ‘We were in such a hurry to print them that I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry.’

  It took them two hours to tack every single new poster to trees and fence posts and they finally sat down on a bench in a picnic area for a rest. ‘I’ll just put up the last one on this notice board here,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘Then we’re done.’

  Lurking underneath the picnic table, Fixit froze and waited till Charlie’s mum pushed the tacks into the last poster and went to sit with Charlie, their backs conveniently turned to the table.

  ‘I’m so tired,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘Let’s sit here for a bit.’

  ‘OK,’ said Charlie.

  ‘At least we’ve tried our best,’ said his mum.

  ‘Our very, very best in the world,’ agreed Charlie.

  Fixit flattened himself and slunk away into the bushes with no sound at all, like a spirit of the woods.

  ‘They’re here!’ barked Fixit, crashing back through the pathway to the den.

  ‘Who?’ asked Sunset, jumping up in alarm. ‘The horrible men?’

  ‘No, no!’ laughed Fixit. ‘Alfie’s people! They’re at the picnic place – just round the corner from here. They can come and help him.’

  ‘How?’ asked Sunset. ‘Look at him.’

  Fixit looked. Alfie had got worse even in the short time that Fixit had been away. He was breathing in short gasps, his eyes half open, whimpering to himself. ‘Come on, Alf,’ said Fixit, lying next to Alfie and giving his face a lick. ‘Your people are so nearby. Can you get up and hobble a bit? They’re so close.’

  Alfie rolled his eyes towards his friend, and groaned, then slid back into sleep.

  ‘This is awful,’ said Fixit desperately. ‘They won’t be there for long. How on earth can we let them know he’s here?’

  Sunset jumped up. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know just what to do. Follow me.’

  ‘Well, my love,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘We can’t sit here for the rest of our lives. We’d best be getting off home – oh, look, Charlie.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘There are two foxes over there on the edge of the clearing. Don’t make a sound or they’ll run off.’

  Charlie and his mum sat perfectly still, watching the pair of foxes, expecting them to slink hastily into the undergrowth, but they just stood there.

  ‘They’re looking at us, Mum,’ whispered Charlie, not moving a muscle. ‘And one of them’s carrying something.’

  Very cautiously, one slow-motion step at a time, poised for instant flight, Fixit and Sunset inched their way across the open ground until they were so close that Charlie could have reached out and touched them. Then they stopped and Fixit stepped forward and laid something on the ground at their feet.

  It was Alfie’s broken collar.

  Charlie’s mouth dropped open as he recognized it. ‘Mum!’ he breathed. ‘It’s Alfie’s collar.’ Very slowly Charlie bent down and picked it up, but as soon as he moved Sunset and Fixit turned and fled back to the far edge of the clearing, where they stood watching with unblinking amber eyes.

  ‘Look, Mum!’ said Charlie. ‘It’s got his name tag! They’ve brought us his collar. They must know where he is!’

  ‘But they’re foxes!’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘How could they know anything?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Charlie. ‘But they brought us his collar, didn’t they?’

  ‘Let’s see if they let us follow them,’ said Charlie’s mum, her heart hammering with shocked astonishment. ‘Very slowly, so we don’t frighten them.’

  As soon as Charlie and his mum got up, Sunset and Fixit trotted off in front of them for a few paces then stopped and turned to make sure they were being followed. Charlie and his mum stopped too, then the two foxes set off again, Charlie and his mum hurrying along behind them, stopping when they stopped and following when they set off again. They went on like this, stopping and starting, until the woodland got thicker and more hidden from the usual pathways and clear areas.

  ‘It’s getting too overgrown to get through,’ said Charlie’s mum, dragging aside huge loops of bramble that clutched at their clothing like octopus tentacles.

  Suddenly, they rounded a corner in the tunnel-like pathway through the undergrowth and stopped.

  Alfie lay directly in front of them, on his side, very still, a green rope-lead round his neck looped underneath him, the wounded leg matted with dried blood.

  Sunset and Fixit stood further on at the mouth of their den, watching.

/>   ‘ALFIE!’ yelled Charlie. He flung himself down in the mud and gently smoothed Alfie’s face. ‘Look, Mum! It’s him! We’ve found him! It’s OK, Alf, you’re OK now. We’ve got you, we’ve got you.’

  Charlie’s mum knelt down and examined the leg. ‘This looks bad, Charlie,’ she said. ‘I think someone’s shot him.’

  ‘Shot him!’ gasped Charlie. ‘But he will be all right, Mum, won’t he, now we’ve found him?’

  ‘Yes, darling,’ said his mum. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine – I’ll ring Jenny and Rita and the vet and see if they can come and find us and help carry him out. The vet can bring one of those big stretchers they use.’

  Charlie sat next to Alfie, smoothing his fur and crying all over him. ‘We found him!’ he laughed through his tears. ‘We actually found him – I told you, didn’t I? I knew he was still here.’

  ‘It was your magic thought waves that did it,’ said his mum, smiling, as she dialled Jenny’s number with trembling fingers. ‘Jenny? You’ll never guess what – we’ve found him.’

  Fixit and Sunset watched as Jenny and Rita arrived, bringing the vet and one of the veterinary nurses. They bundled Alfie on to a large plastic stretcher and strapped him on securely.

  ‘I wish he was conscious,’ said Sunset. ‘I would’ve liked to have said goodbye.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Fixit. ‘Still, at least we know he’s made it back to his people this time. At least we know he’s safe.’

  Charlie looked back and caught their eye as the group of rescuers started shuffling their way out of the thicket.

  ‘Thank you,’ he called to them, but the two foxes turned and disappeared into the shadowy mouth of their den.

  ‘Well, my dear,’ said Fixit. ‘We’ll have to move out of here right now after all these people have seen where we live.’

  ‘Pity,’ said Sunset. ‘It was such a nice little hideaway. But you’re right, of course, and I s’pose it could have been a teensy bit bigger. Won’t be long till spring and there’ll be cubs to think about.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ said Fixit. ‘I’ve seen a nice place round the back of the café, right in the middle of a dip full of brambles. No one’ll ever find us there – especially not any huge lost dogs!’

  Alfie woke up and thought he must be dreaming. He had dreamed of being home so often, but this time it seemed absolutely real. It was real. He was lying on his beanbag in the kitchen, his back leg heavily bandaged, and Charlie was sitting next to him, gently stroking his head.

  ‘Look, Mum,’ said Charlie, ‘he’s waking up. Hey, Alfie, it’s me. You’re back home.’

  Charlie’s mum bent down to ruffle Alfie’s fur. ‘Look at you,’ she said, smiling. ‘What a merry dance you led us, you naughty boy.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault, Mum,’ said Charlie. ‘Was it, Alf ? I wish he could talk and tell us all his adventures, especially about the foxes. Deerhounds are s’posed to hate foxes! Who were they, Alf ? How did they know what to do?’

  Alfie raised his head and slapped his great wet tongue across his master’s face.

  Florence jumped down from the worktop and landed with a thump on the beanbag. ‘So you came back to us,’ she purred.

  Alfie looked at her and smiled. ‘I kept my promise,’ he said. ‘I never chased anything, not even a mouse.’

  ‘Budge up, then,’ said Florence, ‘and you can tell me all about it.’

  ‘Later,’ said Alfie, as his eyelids drooped and he began to doze off again. ‘Right now, I want to go back to sleep – so I can wake up again and find I’m still here. I’m just so happy. It’s wonderful to be home.’