The Secret Dog

by Joe Friedman

  In a moment, he was down the ladder and in the living room.

  ‘I’m off to the sleepover now,’ Josh said.

  His uncle put down his newspaper.

  ‘I’m really pleased you’ve made a friend,’ he said earnestly.

  A wave of guilt swept over Josh. There wasn’t really a friend. A whimper came from his rucksack. Josh coughed loudly to cover it up.

  ‘You’re not coming down with a cold?’ his uncle worried.

  Josh felt Reggae shift her position at the top of the rucksack. ‘I’m fine. Got to go,’ he said, hurrying towards the door.

  ‘Have a good time!’ his uncle shouted after him.

  Once they were in the garden, Josh relaxed.

  ‘That was tricky,’ he whispered.

  He turned on his torch and found the bin bag from the charity shop, which he’d hidden in the bushes at the side of the house. Then he headed towards the far end of the farm. Reggae whimpered again.

  ‘I know it’s not comfortable,’ Josh said. But we’ll be at your new home in a couple of minutes. I hate that you won’t be staying with me. But if you’re discovered in my room, I might lose you. I can’t risk that.’

  His torch picked out a tumbledown shed in the distance. It was situated at the far end of Calum’s farm, near a stand of trees that ran down the hill to a river that flowed down from the commons. The whole right side had caved in. It was perfect, from Josh’s point of view. No one would suspect this broken-down building was being used as a kennel. And because it was so near the trees, he’d be able to take Reggae out for walks and keep her hidden from prying eyes.

  Josh tried the door. It was jammed. He’d noticed this the day before but he hadn’t had time to fix it yet. He put his shoulder to it, pulled back and shoved hard. The frame gave way with a loud protest and the door flew open.

  He laid the rucksack on the floor and undid the strap. Reggae leapt out. The torch on the floor highlighted her and cast a huge shadow on the wall, making her look as big as a lion. She looked at Josh reproachfully. Josh removed an old oil-burning lantern. He’d found it in the barn where his uncle kept things ‘that might be useful some day’. He’d filled it with oil and tested it after school.

  It lit first time, and the old shed was filled with a delicate, flickering yellow light. The right side was damp. The sweet smell of slowly rotting wood came from it. But the other half, where Reggae would stay, was dry and waterproof. Josh switched off the torch.

  She would be safe here from the island’s strong winds, rain and from snow come winter.

  Reggae sniffed the lantern. Then she backed away – she’d discovered it was hot. She turned her attention to the earth floor. It seemed to be full of interesting smells.

  ‘I know you’re really young to be here on your own,’ Josh explained. ‘But Borders like you have been bred to be tough. And because the shed’s on my way to school, I can see you before I go. Then I’ll sneak out at lunch. I can be here in fifteen minutes. That’ll give us half an hour together. And after that, it’s less than two hours till I’m finished for the day, and I can spend the rest of the afternoon with you.’

  Reggae tossed some of the loose hay on the floor into the air with her nose. Then she charged through it as it fell.

  ‘I can tell Uncle Calum I’m going for a walk before bed, so I can tuck you in. It’s not great, I know. But it’s the best I can do. And of course on the weekends – apart from chores – I’ll be with you all the time!’

  Josh opened the black bin bag. First, he removed the red plastic washing up bowl. He filled it with the old blankets.

  ‘Your new bed, Madame,’ he said, gesturing towards it. Reggae jumped in, and started using her teeth to rearrange the blankets.

  Somehow, it reminded Josh of the way his mother would fuss over the duvet as he lay in his bed, adjusting it until it was ‘just right’. He closed his eyes to fix the scene in his mind. He was too old for duvet fussing now. But it was nice to remember his mother doing it.

  He removed the smaller plastic bowl, then filled it with newspapers from his rucksack.

  Satisfied with her bed, Reggae walked over to the bowl. She climbed in and squatted. ‘Good girl!’ Josh exclaimed. He pulled a treat out of his jeans. Reggae scoffed it.

  Finally, Josh removed a sleeping bag from his rucksack. He unrolled it on the floor.

  ‘You didn’t think I’d let you spend your first night here alone?’

  Having arranged all of Reggae’s ‘furniture’, Josh took out the huge rawhide bone from the bin bag.

  Josh stretched out his arm and put the rawhide under Reggae’s nose. She sniffed curiously. Then she mouthed it. Josh pulled it away from her, holding it to his chest.

  ‘Mine,’ he said. Reggae hardly seemed to think before she jumped up on his lap to get the bone.

  ‘That was quick,’ Josh exclaimed.

  He let her have one end and they growled at one another. He let her tug it away, and then pulled it back. He loved the way she showed her little teeth and her whole face wrinkled with the effort to win the bone. In the end, he let her ‘win’, and she paraded around the shed with her prize.

  It was starting to get chilly. Josh took off his jeans and shirt and tossed them on the ground. Reggae sniffed around them, and then lay down on his shirt.

  Somehow, this reminded Josh of something . . . He crawled into his sleeping bag. That was it! His first night on the island. He’d been lying in his new bed. Even though it wasn’t that cold, he couldn’t stop shivering. Nor could he sleep. In the early hours of the morning, his Aunt Gertrude had come into his room. She’d just been to the city, emptying his mother’s flat. She had a bag of his things.

  The first thing she’d taken out of the bag was his mother’s nightshirt. It still smelled strongly of her. Without a word, she’d put it under his pillow. He hadn’t really understood why. A few minutes later, he’d fallen into a dreamless sleep.

  He’d forgotten all about that! Funny, how Reggae helped him recall these things.

  ‘I guess tomorrow’s going to be like my first night on the island for you.’ Josh said thoughtfully. He got out of the sleeping bag, took the blankets from Reggae’s bed and lined the sleeping bag with them.

  ‘They’ll smell of me tomorrow,’ he told her. ‘Come on in.’

  She climbed onto him, and snuggled into his armpit.

  ‘You won’t be able to work with sheep for a while,’ Josh said. ‘Your body isn’t big or strong enough. You’ll need to be six months old before we can do anything serious. You’re not going to be lying around doing nothing though. You can roam the commons with me. And I’ll teach you the usual stuff, “Sit”, “Come”, “Stay”.’

  Reggae leaned up and licked Josh’s face.

  ‘It usually takes at least two years to train a sheepdog properly,’ Josh continued. ‘But I’ll never be able to keep you secret that long. So I’m going to get you ready to do next summer’s Gathering. It won’t be easy. The Gathering is a huge test for a dog. Three solid days of hard work, gathering sheep who don’t want to be gathered from the commons and bringing them to the pens. The third day is the worst. That’s up on the cliffs. Dogs are lost there, because the cliffs crumble underneath them. Then, if we survive that, there’s the fank. That’s another week of moving the sheep from one pen to another, making sure they all get vaccinated and checked for disease.’

  Josh turned off the lantern. ‘I’ve never heard of a one-year-old dog doing it all before . . . But it must be possible.’

  Josh felt Reggae shift position to get comfortable. ‘I’m sure it’s possible,’ he said under his breath.

  Chapter 6

  Five months later

  Reggae jumped up and down, almost unable to contain herself. She’d been cooped up in her shed all day. Now that Josh was finally here, she knew she was going out, and she was bursting with energy. He usually came at lunchtime, but a teacher had been patrolling the hole in the school fence that he usually used to sne
ak away.

  Reggae was almost fully grown now. She’d never be a big dog, but she had a big heart.

  ‘Sit,’ Josh commanded. Without hesitating, Reggae sat.

  Josh attached a lead to her collar. Reggae continued to sit, though she was quivering with excitement. She was waiting for him to release her.

  Josh went outside the shed, and inspected the area up the hill, on the other side of the road, where the farmhouses overlooked them. The coast was clear.

  He went back inside the shed. ‘That’ll do.’ Reggae jumped up. Josh closed the door behind them. ‘Heel.’ Reggae fell into step by his side. They headed straight into the strand of trees that ran down the hill towards the loch. Near the loch, at the bottom of the hill, there was a dip that had been carved by the old river, now just a stream. Josh’s grandfather had planted birch, alder and mountain ash trees along it, many years ago. Now they were almost fully grown. They provided a place for wildlife.

  The trees also hid the two of them as they jogged towards the commons. When the farmhouses were far behind, they headed up the loch side of a steep hill.

  Josh had carefully worked out this circuitous route so that they’d be hidden from view. It was a small island; if anybody saw him with a dog, Reggae wouldn’t be secret for long.

  It started to drizzle. Great. Rain would keep most people off the commons, especially where they were heading today, the round pen.

  Josh had found the broken-down pen several years earlier, while he was first exploring the commons. He hadn’t understood what it was. But when he’d started puzzling over books about training dogs, he’d discovered that such pens were used to train working dogs – to give them their first experience of working with sheep.

  Most farmers had their own pens now, which was why the fence around the one on the commons was falling down. Josh had made repairing it his project for the winter. Every day, with Reggae by his side, he’d carried pieces of wood from his uncle’s ‘may come in useful’ barn all the way here. He’d fixed every gap in the fence.

  As they approached the pen, the drizzle turned into a steady rain. At least they didn’t have to worry about passers-by. But Josh had a bigger problem.

  All the books he’d read had said it was crucial that you were calm and in control the first time you introduced a dog to working with sheep.

  But how was he supposed to be calm? He’d never done this before! Okay, he’d watched crofters use dogs to herd sheep. He’d even worked with a few of his uncle’s dogs before. But they were old, experienced dogs. He’d never seen anyone introduce a dog to working with sheep, except on YouTube. And all the books said if he didn’t get this right, it would take months to repair the damage. Josh didn’t have months!

  Now Reggae had picked up his anxiety and was bouncing up and down, hardly able to contain herself. Somehow, Josh had to get hold of himself. Otherwise all the work he’d done in mending the pen would go to waste.

  ‘Down.’ In spite of her excitement and the soaking ground, Reggae lay down. Josh took some comfort from this. He’d trained her well, so far. She knew ‘stop’ and ‘that’ll do’, and ‘down’, ‘sit’ and ‘stay’.

  Kneeling down next to her, he ran his hand gently along the side of her face. Gradually, Reggae began to relax. The contact with her helped him calm down too.

  ‘I left the gate to the pen open last night,’ he told her. ‘With any luck, some sheep will have wandered in to eat the fresh grass inside.’

  Reggae looked up at him thoughtfully. Josh knew she didn’t really understand what he was saying, but telling her what they were going to do made it clearer in his mind.

  ‘At first, I’ll be in the pen and you’ll be outside. You need to learn how your position affects the sheep. If you do well, tomorrow you can come in with me.’

  Calmer and more centred, Josh stood and led Reggae over the hill. His plan had worked! There were five sheep and two lambs in the pen.

  ‘Down.’ While Reggae lay on her tummy and watched, Josh closed the gate to the pen.

  Then he removed a ‘long lead’ from his rucksack and attached it to her collar. This was a rope five metres long, with knots in it. It would trail after her and if she did something wrong, Josh could jump on it to stop her quickly.

  ‘Up.’ Josh led her closer to the pen. About ten metres away, he stopped. ‘Sit.’ Reggae sat. Her shining eyes were focused on the sheep in the pen. Josh walked slowly to Reggae’s left, paying out the lead as he did so.

  When he was in front of the gate, Josh stopped. He waited until Reggae looked away from him, to her right. Josh made a ‘shushing’ noise and Reggae started to run around the pen. As she did, Josh entered the pen, closing the gate behind him.

  At first, Reggae just circled the pen again and again. But then she got bored. She began to notice that as she moved, the sheep did too. She stopped. The sheep moved away from her. She moved to her right. The sheep shifted away from her again.

  Josh could almost see the moment where Reggae ‘got it’. That her job was to move so that the sheep were driven towards Josh.

  Josh moved to his left, Reggae to her left, to balance him. Josh moved to his right, and Reggae moved to her right, so that she was opposite him.

  ‘That’ll do,’ Josh said. He left the pen. That had gone better than he’d expected!

  He called Reggae. She saw him reaching into his trouser pocket for a treat, and raced towards him.

  Ten minutes later, Josh repeated the whole process. This time, he started off to her right. Instead of circling, Reggae stopped opposite him. When he moved, she did too. She’d got ‘lesson one’ of learning to be a working dog!

  * * *

  Back in Reggae’s shed, Josh hung up his ‘work clothes’ and changed back into his dry school uniform. Then he opened a tin of dog food. Reggae sat watching him intently. Josh moved over to the wooden box he used as a chair and sat down.

  ‘Go.’ Reggae bounded over to the bowl and started to eat.

  As she ate, Josh thought about something that had happened two short months ago, when the earliest of the spring lambs were being born. He’d been training Reggae to heel. Some dancing lambs on a neighbouring hill had caught her eye. He didn’t have her on the lead and she’d headed for them, ignoring his command to ‘stop’. All excited, she’d circled the group of lambs and ewes. Josh had been terrified that Reggae would accidentally hurt one of the lambs. This was a serious matter on the island, and dogs had been shot for this. Fortunately, when the big ewes saw Reggae, they’d started to move towards her. Alarmed, she’d sped back to Josh.

  She’d come a long way since then.

  ‘You did really well today,’ Josh told her, as she gobbled her food. ‘According to the weather forecast, this rotten weather will continue tomorrow. We’ll see if you can work in the pen. Then you’ll really start getting what being a sheepdog is all about.’

  Chapter 7

  Josh raced across the muddy field, carrying a margarine tub and a kitchen roll. After school he’d stopped at home to pick them up, and to change into shorts. That had been a good idea. His legs were already spattered with mud.

  The small grove of trees lay just ahead. Josh slowed down. He didn’t want to trip. Today’s thunderstorm had been especially violent, even by island standards. He’d already found one of its victims.

  ‘What are you doing?’ The girl’s voice startled Josh. He was crouched under a tree, still breathing heavily from his sprint. Had she followed him?

  ‘I asked what are you doing?’ The voice was impatient now. Josh hadn’t exactly been ignoring her. It was just that he didn’t want to turn away. There wasn’t much time to get this right.

  Reluctantly, he swung around to face her. He wasn’t very good at talking to people. Especially girls.

  He recognised her immediately. It was Yvonne, the vet’s daughter. She was always getting awards for this and that in the school assemblies. Sometimes she walked home with Kearney. At least he wasn’t there.

&nbs
p; He beckoned her with his hand. Yvonne was still wearing her green school uniform. It made her thin brown hair look dull. She hesitated before leaving the path. But her curiosity won out, and she stepped carefully over the thick blanket of old rotting leaves, twigs and branches.

  ‘Ohhh,’ she cooed, when she saw what Josh was cupping in his hands. It was a baby bird he’d found, wet and bedraggled. ‘Are you sure you should be doing that? I read that once you get your smell on them their mothers won’t feed them.’

  ‘That’s rubbish,’ Josh said. ‘I’ve saved dozens of birds.’ He thought for a moment. ‘As long as you’re here, you can help. Put your hands together.’

  For a moment, Yvonne held back. Then she knelt and stretched out her cupped hands. Gently, he put the bird down in them.

  ‘Keep her warm,’ he said. ‘Smell isn’t a problem. Cold is. Her mother won’t feed her if she’s cold.’

  He speedily laid out layers of kitchen roll in the empty margarine tub. He’d already punched in holes for drainage. ‘Put her in. Carefully.’

  Yvonne lent over the yellow tub. She opened her hands and the little bird hopped out.

  ‘Why aren’t you putting it back in its nest?’ she asked quietly.

  Josh pointed to the tree above. Yvonne looked up, tilting her glasses to see better. The remains of the nest were just barely visible.

  ‘The thunderstorm this afternoon,’ he explained.

  He used his arms to grasp hold of a branch above him. Pulling himself off the ground, he wrapped his legs around the tree.

  ‘Here,’ he said. Yvonne put the tub in his outstretched hand. Keeping the hand holding the tub free, Josh began to climb. He wedged the tub into a group of small branches, then shook the main bough gently to make sure it would stay put. Then, using both hands, he climbed down.

  Yvonne watched him in silence. ‘You’re strong!’

  Josh had never thought of himself as strong, though he did the work of an adult on the farm. He pointed towards an old oak. ‘We can watch.’ He led the way.