Puppy Power

by Anna Wilson

  ‘By the start of the third week the puppies begin to explore beyond the whelping box. At this point the pups will need help from you in weaning and house-training.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘I’m not looking forward to that last bit.’

  Molly agreed. ‘I have very clear memories of how difficult it was to get Honey to stop peeing on the floor every five minutes.’

  Frank laughed. ‘You wait! Having seven little ones peeing and pooping everywhere is a Whole Different Ball Game.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘What on earth are you on about, Frank Gritter? We are not going to be playing ball games with them. They are too small!’

  Frank rolled his eyes back at me and said, ‘Oh, shut up and read the next bit!’

  I humphed, and stuck my nose back into the book:

  ‘Owners may notice the mother standing up to feed rather than sitting down. This is a sign that she feels the puppies are ready to be weaned.’

  The book went on to say that by the end of the sixth week the puppies would be eating puppy food on their own and not drinking Honey’s milk any more. I was glad Nick was around to help. I wasn’t sure I could manage the weaning thing without him.

  Nick came after tea that night when Molly and Frank had gone home.

  ‘Do you want to have a go at feeding the pups by hand?’ he asked.

  I nodded. There was an excited feeling mixed up with a nervous one bouncing around inside me. I had read all about why we had to feed them by hand. Perfect Puppies said that in the wild pups are introduced to raw food when they are still very tiny. Because they don’t always have many teeth at this stage, their mother chews the food for them and then spits it out! Gross! Luckily we didn’t have to do that because we had bought special puppy food, I’m happy to say.

  The other reason we had to feed the pups by hand was so they realized we were the boss, according to Monica Sitstill.

  Nick put some puppy food into a small bowl. ‘Ready?’ he asked me.

  I nodded again and gulped.

  April came in to see what we were doing. ‘Oh! Can I help?’ she asked.

  Nick smiled and said, ‘Let’s take one each. Watch me first.’ He bent down and picked up the tiny black boy pup and spoke to it quietly and reassuringly. Then he sat down very gently and put the puppy on his lap. ‘It’s very important we don’t frighten him,’ Nick explained. ‘We want him to have a good first experience so that he learns to enjoy the puppy food.’

  Nick kept on stroking the little black puppy and talking to him quietly, and then with his free hand he reached into the small bowl and scooped up a tiny bit of the food with his thumb and fingertips. He held it under the pup’s nose to start with. ‘I’m giving him a chance to have a smell first,’ Nick explained.

  The little guy smelt it for a moment or two and then dug in straight away!

  ‘Hey, he likes it!’ I said. ‘But won’t he bite you? He’s getting a bit carried away!’

  ‘If you’re quiet and you don’t pull away suddenly, you’ll be OK. Do you want a go?’ Nick asked.

  April and I each picked up a puppy and fed them. It was such a great feeling! We stroked them softly and praised them when they’d finished.

  Honey had seven very happy little babies that evening. They wagged their tiny tails and rolled around with each other, full of energy from their first meal – and then, just as suddenly as they’d started playing, they fell on each other in a heap and were fast asleep.

  Honey looked very proud as she snuggled up with her little babies.

  I should have felt so happy and proud that night. After all, I had helped with the Weaning Process and it had been great fun. But somehow I slunk off to bed feeling very low. It was that picture of Honey curled up so happily with her pups that did it.

  I didn’t want them to go.

  The next week people started responding to an advertisement that Frank, Molly and I had pinned up on the school noticeboard.

  Including Rosie Chubb. Typical.

  ‘Mum says I can have a puppy,’ she said, in her usual SPOILT BRAT manner of speaking.

  ‘Does she?’ said Frank sarcastically.

  ‘What’s it to you, Stinko?’ Rosie retorted.

  This is a good start, I thought, sighing in my head. I took a deep breath. ‘If you have

  Parental Consent,’ I said to Rosie, ‘you can come round tonight.’

  ‘WHAAA–?’ Molly gasped.

  I dug her firmly in the ribs to shut her up. Rosie grinned and pirouetted off like the dancing hippo-ballerina that she is.

  ‘What did you say that for?’ Molly hissed. ‘You cannot be serious about letting one of Honey’s puppies go to live in a house with an overgrown elephant child whose idea of fun is to pick her nose and flick it at anything that moves!’

  ‘Sounds like a great way to pass the day, if you ask me!’ Frank grinned, obviously thinking he was De-Fusing the Tension.

  ‘I didn’t ask you, Frank Gritter–’ Molly spat.

  ‘GUYS!’ I shouted. ‘I have got to find homes for the puppies. Mum said. So will you please shut up!’ and then I ran off to the cloakrooms to hide because I knew I was going to cry. I didn’t care if the Queen of England wanted one of Honey’s pups. No one would be a good enough owner, as far as I was concerned.

  At the end of school I ran out at top speed, avoiding Frank and Molly. I needed to be on my own. I was feeling very Close to the Brim of Tears at the thought of Rosie coming to choose a puppy, and I needed to spend some Special Quality Moments with the puppies.

  It was a good job I arrived when I did, as it happened, as April was obviously getting near the end of her tether.

  ‘Am I glad you’re here,’ she said, puffing out her cheeks and putting her hands on her hips. ‘Honey’s not cleaning the pups up herself any more – they’ve started peeing and pooping all over the place! I can’t wait to get back to work next week.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  There was a bucket and a mop out, and soggy newspaper everywhere, and the pups were rolling around and jumping on each other and play-fighting in the middle of all the PALAVER AND MAYHEM. Honey meanwhile was quietly washing herself.

  To start with, the mother cleans up the pups herself. By three weeks, she stops doing this. A pup of three to four weeks will urinate twelve or more times a day – you can’t control this, so make sure you have lots of newspaper handy!

  I helped April to clear up the soggy newspaper and told her to go and have a cup of tea while I laid down some clean sheets of paper.

  April came back in once I’d got everything in order and said, ‘Wow, you’ve done a great job!’ and gave me a hug, which is not something I think I had ever experienced from my sister before. It had the Unfortunate Effect of making me Brimful of Tears for the second time that day.

  ‘What is the matter?’ she asked, as I sobbed into her jumper. ‘Have you had a bad day? Is it Molly? Oh no – is it Frank?’

  ‘NO, IT IS NOT FRANK!’ I cried. ‘Rosie’s coming round later to choose a puppy and

  - and – and – I don’t wa-ant the pu-pu-ppies to g-g-g-goooooooo!’ I wailed.

  April sighed a big WHOOSHY sigh and said, ‘Come on, sit down and have a drink.’ She led me into the kitchen and made me a hot chocolate.

  ‘How about if I told you something to cheer you up?’ she said as she set the mug of hot chocolate down in front of me. I noticed as she did this that she had a new ring on. It was very sparkly. I wondered in a vague-ish way where she had got it from.

  ‘O – K,’ I hiccuped. I went to pick up the mug, but April was holding on to it in a limpet-tight way. ‘April, you can let go of it now, thanks,’ I said.

  ‘Haven’t you noticed anything?’ she asked, still not letting go of the mug.

  ‘Er . . . you’ve got a new ring on . . . Oh. My. Goodness! YOU’RE ENGAGED?’ I shrieked.

  April was grinning like that bonkers weirdo cat in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. ‘Yes!’ she squeaked. ‘Nick has asked me to
marry him, and I said yes, and we want you and Molly to be bridesmaids. Will you?’

  BRIDESMAIDS? Normally I am in no way what could be described as a girly-ish sort of girl, but who in their Right Mind would sag no to being a BRIDESMAID?

  ‘DO SWALLOWS FLY SOUTH FOR THE WINTER?’ I cried.

  April frowned. ‘Eh?’ she said.

  ‘YES!’ I shouted. ‘YES, YES, YES, I WILL BE YOUR BRIDESMAID!’

  ‘You’ve asked her then?’ said a voice.

  It was Nick, who was also grinning from one ear to the other ear in that bizzaroid smiley-cat fashion.

  April turned round and hugged him, and then they both grabbed me and hugged me too!

  Then I remembered about Honey and the fact that her puppies were all about to go to new homes, and I sagged and crumpled.

  ‘I’m very pleased for you,’ I said, ‘but it still doesn’t stop me being sad about Honey’s puppies going. What if I never see any of them ever ag-ag-again?’ I was getting teary again, and for once I didn’t care how babyish it made me look. I felt as though something inside me had snapped open and that I would never ever feel in one piece for the rest of my whole life. Is this what people mean by having a broken heart, I wondered?

  April looked quite woebegone and just stood there, as if she did not know what to say or do.

  Then Nick coughed and said, ‘April?

  Haven’t you told her the other bit of good news?’

  ‘Oh, I’d almost forgotten,’ said April, snapping out of her woebegoneness and putting on a huge quite fake-looking smile. I did not think my brain could cope with any more news when my heart was busy falling apart, but April carried on: ‘Summer – would it be OK if Nick and I had one of Honey’s puppies?’

  I didn’t know what to be more STUNNED about:

  A) my sister asking me something in a polite manner of speaking

  B) my sister wanting me and my Bestest Friend to be actual bridesmaids at her real wedding in true life

  C) MY SISTER AND HER FIANCE WANTING ONE OF HONEY’S PUPPIES!

  My heart suddenly miraculously repaired itself and I thought instead that my whole body might possibly explode into a million pieces of happiness right there on the very spot. ‘You betcha!’ I said.

  That night, when Mum had also been told all the most exciting news it is possible to be told in one single conversation, she said, ‘This calls for a celebration.’

  So I phoned Molly and Frank and they came round with their parents, and Nick rushed out for champagne and loads of nibbly things like those crunchy crisps made from parsnips and other disgustingly INEDIBLE grownup things, and April rushed out after him to buy corn snacks in the shape of aliens and lemonade and other yummily delicious sensible party food.

  And when we were all raising our glasses and saying, ‘Three Cheers to the Happy Couple!’ and laughing and joking and generally having a Whale of a Time, the final, last and most fantabulous thing of all happened.

  Mum said, ‘Molly and Summer – will you go round and fill everyone’s glasses? And Frank, could you pass the snacks around?’ ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘But, Molly, where’s your mum?’ I suddenly asked, as I picked up a bottle and got ready to Do The Rounds.

  ‘She went to find the bathroom,’ said Molly’s dad. ‘Mind you, she’s been gone a while – I hope she hasn’t got lost. HAR HAR HAR!’ He was in quite a merry state by then

  Molly glowered at her dad in a very dark way and said, ‘I’ll go and find her.’

  But she didn’t need to, because at that moment Mrs Cook appeared, looking quite flushed around the cheeks and smiling in a strange dreamy way.

  ‘Mum!’ Molly cried. ‘What were you– OH!’

  Mrs Cook was holding something in her arms. Something small and soft and snuffly. Something . . . puppy-ish.

  ‘I think we should have this one, don’t you?’ Mrs Cook said, stroking Titch and looking EXCEEDINGLY PLEADINGLY at Mr Cook. ‘That is,’ she added hastily, ‘if it’s OK with you, Summer?’

  Molly looked at me and I looked at Molly.

  Then Frank said, ‘Say something, you loonies!’

  And both of us yelled, ‘YIPPPPPEEEEEE!’

  ‘What’s all the noise?’ said a voice.

  Oh dear. In all our utter excitement, we had forgotten that Rosie was coming round! She was standing in the doorway with her mum, and the look on her face was one of Feeling Left-outness.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Rosie’s mum. ‘We did ring the bell, but no one heard us, so we tried the door– Oh, you’re having a party – would you like us to come another time?’

  ‘No, no!’ Mum said, and hurried to find some more glasses.

  April quickly filled Rosie and her mum in on all the news, and I interrupted and said, ‘There are still five puppies left, Rosie – that is, if you’re still interested ... Do you want to come and see?’

  Rosie and I left the others and went into Honey’s den.

  The pups were all sound asleep.

  ‘It is amazing that they can sleep with all that racket going on next door, isn’t it?’ I whispered.

  Rosie nodded. She was staring at the puppies in TOTAL CAPTIVATION. Puppies have that effect on everyone, I realized, even loud hippo-type annoying girls who are normally rude and OBJECTIONABLE.

  ‘Which one would you like?’ I asked.

  Rosie just pointed soundlessly at the tiny black boy. ‘Can I hold him?’ she whispered.

  I bent down and scooped him up. ‘You’ll love this one,’ I told her. ‘He’s just right for you.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Rosie asked, but not in her usual sneery sort of way – it was as if she actually wanted to know. I felt quite proud that I knew all about those little poochicals – for me they weren’t just little balls of fluff any more.

  ‘He’s just not as boisterous as some of the other boy pups,’ I explained. ‘In Monica Sitstill’s Perfect Puppies book it tells you how you can do a personality test to check what kind of TEMPERAMENT your puppy will have – in other words, you can see whether it’s going to be quiet or nervous or jumpy or bouncy or shy or whatever,’ I said. ‘You should get a copy. It’s a fab book!’

  Rosie carried the little fellow out of the den and went to show her mum.

  ‘Three down, four to go,’ I thought. But I didn’t feel so sad any more, I realized. These three pups were all going to people I knew and would see quite often. I would not be losing touch with all of Honey’s puppies. I would in fact, have the Best of Both Worlds, as I would still be the owner of a totally fantastical pooch myself, and I would be In Touch on a Regular Basis with some of Honey’s puppies without having to actually own them.

  I went back into the party, feeling quietly happy.

  Over the next month all the puppies went to new homes. April and Nick took their golden pooch when he was seven weeks old, after Nick had wormed all the pups and had given them their first injections.

  ‘I think we should call this cute little chap “Cupid”,’ April had said to Nick, ‘because if it wasn’t for these puppies, we might never have got back together again.’

  Mum explained to me that Cupid was the name of an ancient god-type baby with wings who had fired his arrows into people’s hearts to make them fall in love.

  ‘Urgh. Poor puppy!’ I had said.

  But as usual April got her way, and so that’s what the poor dog was called. I personally thought even ‘Meatball’ was a better name . . .

  Rosie called her puppy ‘Chutney’ and had a whale of a time training him. Chutney was the gentlest of the puppies and seemed to adore Rosie (‘Each To Their Own’ as Molly said.) It was truly a miracle, but for the first time in her life Rosie could be as bossy as she liked to someone and they actually did as they were told!

  As for Molly and Titch – they Bonded the minute Molly got him home. Even Mrs Cook admitted to Mum that the palaver of having a puppy was worth it as Molly was doing all the work of looking after Titch and did not ‘have her nose stuck in that idiotic puppy game�
� any more.

  So all was well that was ending well. April was happy because she had her own dog at last, AND she was marrying the Man Of Her Dreams (yeuck!); Rosie was happy because she had Chutney; Molly was OVER THE TOP OF THE MOON with happiness with Titch, and I was happy because my gorgeous poochical had had gorgeous pupsicles and I would still be seeing at least three of them and not losing them for good.

  Actually there was one person who wasn’t happy, and that was Frank. Nick had asked him to be a pageboy, and Frank had told me that he would rather ’stick spiders in his ears and eat drawing pins for the Duration of the ceremony than be forced to wear a frilly shirt and knickerbockers like some kind of

  ‘Don’t worry, Frank,’ I said one day at school. ‘I’m sure we can find a way of telling Nick Politely But Firmly that you are Not Interested.’

  But Frank said his mum had told him he had to do it. ‘She said it was a great honour,’ he moaned. ‘What am I going to do?’

  Molly thought the whole thing was hilarious. ‘You’ll look lovely in a gold-and-white outfit with bells round your knees and flowers in your hair!’ she teased.

  Frank grimaced. ‘That’s morris dancers, you idiot,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know why I’ve been asked anyway,’ he continued, turning to me. ‘I haven’t even known Nick that long, and your sister never spoke to me before the puppies were born. It would make more sense if Honey was a bridesdog.’

  ‘FRANK GRITTER, YOU ARE A GENIUS!’ I cried, stopping myself just in time from hugging him.

  ‘What?’ he said, in a puzzled and bewildered fashion.

  ‘Eh?’ said Molly, in a Similar Tone.

  ‘Molly – you remember when we used to do our Celebrity Club before we got more sophisticateder and had our dogs to look after?’ I said, feeling quite out of breath with excitement at the blinding brainFlash I had just had.