Patsy remembered Val’s parting words when she’d brought Maya home, “She’ll need you to take things slowly. She’s still a very frightened girl, finding her feet in a scary new world… she’s raw, she has everything to discover about living with humans. Be patient. And trust Willow to show her the way.”
Patsy planned on doing just that, and had the perfect place in mind for the next stage in Maya’s journey.
18
The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.
J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
The morning sun sparkled across the sea. The sand was strewn with tangles of brown and green seaweed brought in and left behind by the tide. A young man, in a striped tee shirt and shorts was hard at work with a stiff broom scrubbing the wooden decking in front of a row of colourful beach huts.
“There he is,” Tom said, walking with Willow beside him across the sand towards the man. Patsy followed with Maya.
“Hiya mate,” the man said, as he stopped what he was doing, dropped his broom and clasped Tom in a huge hug.
“It’s been too long!” Tom grinned, as they stepped back from each other, broad smiles on both men’s faces.
“Really has, but you’re here now.”
“Yep, better late than never! Patsy meet Dave, Dave meet Patsy,” Tom said, flourishing his arms in a silly way.
“Nice to meet you at long last, heard all about you,” Dave smiled at Patsy who shook his outstretched hand warmly.
“Likewise,” she said, glancing down at Maya who stood behind her legs. Maya’s tail was tucked in, her head hung low, her black eyes were cast down; she was anxious. She must be worried about the stranger or the new environment, or both, thought Patsy with a little tug of sadness, as she realised the growing confidence that Maya showed at home was still fragile.
“And who are these beauties?” Dave asked, kneeling down to greet the dogs. Willow pushed forward to stand in front of Maya, eager to say hello to this new man who was clearly a friend of Tom and Patsy’s, and to let Maya know she was checking him out for them both and her sister needn’t fret.
“That’s Willow… think she likes you,” Tom smiled, as Willow nudged her grey head into Dave’s tanned, weather-roughened hands to get his attention.
“And here’s Maya, she’s our special girl, not used to people yet, but she’s getting there, each day she’s getting there,” Patsy added, stepping to the side so Dave could see Maya hiding behind her legs.
At the sound of her name, Maya’s ears twitched and she lifted her head a fraction, careful not to catch anyone’s eye.
“Tom told me all about her when he rang, suggesting you all come down for the day… I’ll leave her be, won’t worry her with my fussing,” Dave said, giving Willow’s ears a final ruffle as he stood upright.
“Thanks for letting us come, I’m hoping it’ll help her, having a beach day’s always fun isn’t it?” Patsy said.
“It’s a pleasure, really, least I can do. The beach hut’s yours for the day, yours any day you want to come down in fact,” Dave said, moving onto the decking and opening the white door of the blue painted wooden hut stood closest to them. Tom stepped forward and dropped the basket containing the day’s food and drinks, just inside the door onto the pale, scrubbed wooden floorboards. With a sigh he slumped onto the narrow wooden bench which ran along the length of one wall and was covered with blue and white striped cushions; a matching striped table cloth, faded with age, lay on the neat wooden table in the middle of the compact space.
“Make yourself at home Tom!” Patsy smiled, as she stood in the doorway with Dave and the dogs.
“You bet I will. Love it here. This place hasn’t changed at all. You’ve even got the same chipped china mugs,” Tom said, nodding at the back wall where four blue and white mugs hung on hooks above the small sink.
“It’s so quaint,” Patsy smiled. “I’ve always wanted to see inside one of these little huts and when Tom told me he’d got a friend with one, well, let’s just say you’ve made my day!”
“It’s a great little place,” Dave said. “Been in the family years, I’ve been coming here since I was a baby and Tom’s had plenty of good trips down since we were kids at school together eh, Tom?”
“Certainly have, and a few chilly sea swims.”
Dave grinned, “Don’t advise dipping your toes in there today, it’ll be nippy. This early in the season, the beach is nice and quiet, there won’t be many folk about, you should have a good day. Right, will leave you all to it, got to get off.”
“Sure you won’t stay mate?” Tom asked.
“Would love to, but can’t today, enjoy it, we’ll catch up later.”
Shortly after Dave had gone, Tom and Patsy were comfily sat on stripy cushions laid out on the decking, sipping tea, staring out across the wet sand at the turquoise sea, lapping gently at the shoreline. The tide was out, leaving a wide open, empty beach littered with pink and pearly-white shells and sea-polished grey-brown pebbles glistening in the sun. Willow was snuffling along the edge of the decking, her busy black nose turning yellow with sand as she breathed in and out rapidly, seeking out the source of the smell she’d detected. Maya’s eyes followed her sister as her soft grey ears were ruffled by the gentle sea breeze. Every now and then, her nose twitched as it caught something on the salt-laden air, but she wasn’t tempted to join in with the inquisitive sniffing that occupied her sister.
“Right, shall we see what Maya makes of the beach?” Patsy asked, taking Tom’s empty mug from him as she moved to get up. Maya stood, taking a couple of steps backwards and Willow, seeing everyone was moving stopped investigating the smells under the decking and looked up, eager to join in with whatever was about to happen.
“Ok, let’s go girls,” Patsy grabbed both dog leads, stepped off the decking onto the sand, and with Tom they all set off across the beach towards the water.
Willow bounced along, excited by the shifting sand under her paws. Maya, wary of the new sensation moved cautiously, stopping after a few seconds to size things up. She looked up at Patsy, then over at Willow before turning her head back towards the safety of the hut. Overhead a seagull caught her eye and she tracked it as it flew across out over the sea, disappearing into the distance. Giving her a few minutes, Patsy and Tom stood quietly, allowing her to savour everything: each sight, sound and smell of the beach was new to Maya. Patsy saw her tail lift, her nose twitch and a new sense came over Maya: curiosity was drowning out anxiety.
Tom bent to unclip Willow’s lead, freeing her to race ahead, and she sprang across the damp sand straight towards a clump of brown rubbery seaweed, into which she buried her nose, snorting in the briny scents. She came up for air and turned back to see where her sister was, threads of seaweed dripping from her face. Maya was stood still, watching, smelling, listening.
“Well, Willow’s happy!” Patsy smiled. “What do you think, shall we?”
“Go on, she’s ready I reckon. And there’s nothing to worry about, we’re safe here,” Tom said, scanning the empty beach. “Besides she’s going to stick with her sister there who’s enjoying herself,” Tom’s eyes rested on Willow a few metres away, bottom in the air, nose pushing into the sand, moving her head from side to side to cover as much of her face with sand as she could.
Patsy knelt down beside Maya who was intently watching Willow giving herself the wet sandy face wash.
“Ok, this is it darling, first time off-lead, first real day of freedom to run… but not too far!”
As she unclipped Maya’s lead, Patsy and Tom took a step to the side and watched as she shook herself from head to tail, sneezed loudly and walked across the sand to her sister. When Willow spotted Maya approaching, she promptly stopped messing about in the sand and bounced over to her, tail wagging happily. As she reached Maya, she play bowed, her bottom
in the air, her head down looking up at Maya. Then, up and down Willow bounced in front of her sister, who took one look at her and slowly at first, her tail just beginning to twitch, mimicked her sister’s bounces, getting faster as round and round in a loose circle they bobbed. Bottoms up, then down, paws patting the sand in front of each other, teasing, playing like normal, happy dogs.
“Oh my goodness, it’s wonderful!” gasped Patsy, grabbing Tom’s hand, tears of joy pricking her eyes. “Maya looks so happy, so normal, this is the first time she’s ever been playful.”
“She’s being a dog. Simple as that! At last she knows what it is to be happy and is showing it. It’s fab… and you’re fab to have given her this chance at life,” Tom smiled, wrapping his arm around Patsy’s shoulder as they walked along following the playful dogs, running off towards the sparkling water a short distance away.
As the sisters shot across the wet sand, first one would stop, distracted by something and take a swift sniff, before the other quickly joined her, and two noses were then pushing in to get the best smell. Then, as fast as they stopped, off they rushed, running ahead, zig zagging across the wide beach before hurtling back to check on Patsy and Tom, whose beaming faces the dogs scanned before turning tail and zipping away again.
As they reached the shoreline together, both dogs skidded, their paws cleaving eight deep grooves into the sand as they came to a sudden halt. Hopping backwards to keep their paws clear of the lapping waves, they stood, side by side, matching noses high in the air, taking in the moist salty air.
“Do you reckon they’ll go in?” Tom said as he and Patsy reached the water’s edge.
“Not a chance! Willow hates being wet and I doubt Maya’s any different, nor will she go in without her big sis.”
No sooner were Patsy’s words out of her mouth, than Willow and Maya both turned round and headed off back up the beach, distancing themselves from the chilly water.
“What did I say?” Patsy laughed.
Later, back at the hut, Willow and Maya lay on the seagrass matting, Willow’s head resting on the soft cushion of Maya’s body as they napped, exhausted by a morning of beach games and fun. Soft snores from both dogs matched Tom’s, as he stretched outside in the deckchair in the afternoon sun. Patsy, propped against the hut’s painted blue wall, which faced out to sea, watched over them all, smiling to herself as she looked at both dogs, their coats thick with sand, their faces mussed up and gritty. Patsy sighed, happy in the knowledge that the mess the dogs would take home with them was worth it. It made her eyes prick with happy tears as she thought of Maya so joyful and free, doing exactly as she pleased and, with the soft warmth of the sun on her face, Patsy closed her eyes and pledged that this was what Maya’s life would always be from now on.
19
You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.
J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
I woke before dawn today. I often do. Years of living in a disturbing din have left their mark on my sleeping habits. As I woke, I felt the warm, soft snoring body of Willow next to me. Willow, my beautiful, kind sister. Her warmth seeped into me, giving me a comforting peace I didn’t want to disturb. So I lay still, matching the rhythm of my breathing with each of Willow’s gentle snores:
ZZZZZ… in… zzzz… out… ZZZZZ… in… zzzz… out… ZZZZZ… peace… zzzz… in… ZZZZ… out… zzzz… ZZZ… peace…
Peaceful breaths… in… out. Such peace like I could never in my wildest dreams ever have thought I’d feel. Never, ever.
“YAARFFF!”
Just as I drifted back into sleep, Willow startled me and herself awake with a yawn, her wide open mouth revealing a set of perfect, gleaming white teeth, right next to my face.
“Morning precious,” I said to my sister, I love having someone to say this to each day.
I’m impressed every time I see her perfect teeth, although there’s a dash of sadness as I think about my own gummy mouth. One of the good things to happen to me – and there have been many since I was carried out of the puppy farm a few months ago – was the removal of my rotten, broken and aching teeth. Although it left me with many gaps and I’ve no front teeth on the bottom row, the pain I’d lived with for a very long time disappeared as if by magic. Dogs have forty-two teeth, so despite missing a few it still leaves enough for me to eat with.
Eating. Who would have thought eating can be so enjoyable? I’ve had a great number of tasty meals, since coming to live with Patsy and Willow. Every single thing that I’ve eaten here, has been tummy-tingling delicious. Patsy loves to cook, and I love to eat. We’re a match well suited.
This is a funny thing, Willow’s nibbling me, she wants me to join in with her daily game of ‘wakey-wakey-chewy face’. It’s another lovely new moment I enjoy each day: when we wake, we stay in our bed and before Patsy stirs, nibble each other’s faces. With small, soft nips of my ears, Willow begins the game just as she is now, and something stirs inside me, a deep, long forgotten memory of something like this when I was an itty-bitty puppy.
But the memory of that game is nothing like this; for one thing, we play while we’re lying in this enormous, squishy bed that I’ve learnt is ours to share. When I first came, I slept on the floor, not knowing I could climb in with Willow each night. Now, I’m usually in there first, and I’m always last to leave each morning. I love the cushioned comfort around my body and sometimes I head back upstairs during the day, on my own, just to get back into the deep nest of a bed for a minute or two. Ooooh, the pleasure of sinking down into it is worth the stair climb, which can be a bit of a chore with my stiff hips. I’ve almost forgotten what it felt like to lay night after night on the hard concrete amid the dirt and dust of the horrible barn. Almost, but not quite.
Once Willow starts the nipping of my ears, I give into the pleasure I get from her doing this, and soon start returning the nibbles. As my teeth are few, it’s more like a gummy suck than a toothy chew, although we call it a game of ‘chewy face’. Over each other’s faces we go: nip, nibble, tug and pull, mouthing with low mumbling sounds rising into our throats, from deep wells of doggy joy. As our enjoyment grows, so do the sounds and strength of nips. Most times, Willow ends up rolling onto her back with her legs in the air, paws twitching and tapping the air, and as the game reaches its climax, one of us usually gets a little too excited and the other feels the faint sting of a nip that’s a little too nippy for comfort. And we stop. Happily played out. Set up for the rest of the day.
20
All shall be done, but it may be harder than you think.
C.S.Lewis,
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
“I need to see the vet please. Yes, soon as possible, it’s an emergency,” Patsy spoke into the phone with an urgency Willow hadn’t heard before. Patsy was worried, so she was worried too. Maya was too ill to be worried.
Maya had been with them for several weeks and although things frightened her that Willow never gave a thought to – walking on the tiled kitchen floor had been terrifying for a couple of weeks – she’d seemed to be making good progress and feeling more confident by the day. Her health had been improving, she’d been getting stronger and her weight was good, she was no longer the skinny, fragile dog who’d been carried out of the puppy farm in the arms of kind rescuers.
It had all been going so well. And now it wasn’t. Patsy was on the point of panic as overnight things had changed. Out of the blue, Maya started vomiting. Not just a small bit of sick, Willow did that sometimes and, disgusting as Patsy found it, she’d swiftly eat it up again, it was no big deal to Willow. But last night, Maya’s sickness was different. She was properly ill and wouldn’t touch her supper. Although at that point neither Patsy nor Willow were overly concerned, Patsy had hoped a good night’s sleep and no evening meal w
ould see things right by the morning. And as Patsy wasn’t too anxious, Willow relaxed and secretly thought a small perk of having a sickly sister, was that she got to gobble up Maya’s leftovers before Patsy could whip the uneaten meal away.
But, this morning Maya had not only turned down her breakfast, and been sick when she gulped some water, she’d emptied her bowels with a soggy pile of sloppy poo, which Willow, who normally enjoyed a quick inspection of other dogs’ poop, hopped away from in horror. The smell was bad, rotten and not in a good way as some rotten stinks could be; in fact some, like fox poo, or even better, horse manure Willow found irresistible. No, there was nothing good today about the product of Maya’s bottom, nothing good at all. There was something sinister about it. Since the first messy lake of slimy sludge, Maya’s poops had been coming with more force and frequency. She hadn’t even managed to get to the back door, let alone out into the garden, and as Patsy rushed to clear up the last messy pool on the tiles, she’d gasped in alarm as she saw it spreading across the floor, crimson with Maya’s blood.
“Ok, we’re on our way,” Patsy slammed the phone onto the table, and grabbed Willow and Maya’s leads. “Come on Willow, you’d best come with us, Maya will feel better if you’re with her.”
Maya, weak with exhaustion lay on the mat by the kitchen door, she was too poorly to move into her warm bed just a meter away in the corner.
“Oh sweetheart, don’t worry, we’ll get you better, promise we will,” Patsy leaned down and scooped Maya’s frail body into her arms. “I really know you’re not yourself, there’s no way you’d usually let me pick you up without a little squirm is there?” she nudged gently into Maya’s neck with a soft kiss of comfort as she carried her to the car.
Saving Maya Page 7
