The Girl Who Thought She Was a Dog

by Clare Balding

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Fennel and Twiglet are best friends. They do everything together, from curling up in their basket to playing fetch in the park. Twiglet understands Fennel like no one else, especially her life-long dream of winning Crufts.

  There’s just one problem: Fennel isn’t a dog. And a girl can’t win a competition for dogs, no matter how much she acts like one.

  Can she?

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE: A New Arrival

  CHAPTER TWO: First Words

  CHAPTER THREE: Human Training

  CHAPTER FOUR: Guard Duty

  CHAPTER FIVE: Starting School

  CHAPTER SIX: Fitness

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Crufts

  CHAPTER EIGHT: Teamwork

  CHAPTER NINE: Champions

  Read More

  For Archie and all the other dogs

  who have brought joy into my life

  CELEBRATE STORIES. LOVE READING.

  This book has been specially written and published to celebrate World Book Day. We are a charity who offers every child and young person the opportunity to read and love books by offering you the chance to have a book of your own. To find out more, as well as oodles of fun activities and reading recommendations to continue your reading journey, visit worldbookday.com

  World Book Day in the UK and Ireland is made possible by generous sponsorship from National Book Tokens, participating publishers, booksellers, authors and illustrators. The £1 book tokens are a gift from your local Bookseller.

  World Book Day works in partnership with a number of charities, all of whom are working to encourage a love of reading for pleasure.

  The National Literacy Trust is an independent charity that encourages children to enjoy reading. Just 10 minutes of reading every day can make a big difference to how well you do at school and to how successful you could be in life. literacytrust.org.uk

  The Reading Agency inspires people of all ages and backgrounds to read for pleasure and empowerment. They run the Summer Reading Challenge in partnership with libraries, as well as supporting reading groups in schools and libraries all year round. Find out more and join your local library. summerreadingchallenge.org.uk

  World Book Day also facilitates fundraising for:

  Book Aid International, an international book donation and library development charity. Every year, they provide one million books to libraries and schools in communities where children would otherwise have little or no opportunity to read. bookaid.org

  Read for Good, who motivate children in schools to read for fun through its sponsored read, which thousands of schools run on World Book Day and throughout the year. The money raised provides new books and resident storytellers in all of the UK’s children’s hospitals. readforgood.org

  *€1.50 in Ireland

  CHAPTER ONE

  A New Arrival

  They say that all dogs are born with different personalities. Terriers love to dig and will often go missing for hours, disappearing down a tunnel after the faintest glimpse of a rabbit’s tail. Greyhounds like to run in short, sharp bursts – and then happily sleep on the sofa for the rest of the day. Dalmatians were bred as carriage dogs and they love to trot alongside a horse or a jogger. With their funny faces and daft behaviour, boxers give the impression of being the jokers of the pack. But they’re serious about one thing: boxers are born to protect.

  So when Twiglet the boxer’s owner, Rosie, brought home an unfamiliar basket one day, he was immediately on his guard. Something inside was making a tremendous noise.

  Twiglet walked warily around the small basket, sniffing cautiously. Finally, he peered inside and there it was! A tiny human puppy, its face as wrinkled as a prune, screeching like a cat on the attack. He drew back his head in shock.

  ‘It’s all right, Twiglet,’ said Rosie, bending down to stroke his head. ‘She’s only a baby. She won’t bite.’

  Twiglet wasn’t so sure. He nervously took a second look. As he did, the baby stopped crying, reached out a tiny hand and grabbed his ear.

  Twiglet yelped.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry!’ said Rosie, gently prying the baby’s fingers apart to release Twiglet’s ear. ‘She didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  Hmm, thought Twiglet. She doesn’t know her own strength.

  Rosie carried the basket into the sitting room, and sank down into the sofa. Twiglet jumped up beside her and nestled into her chest, just as he had done every night for the past two years. He thought she looked exhausted.

  ‘We’re in this for the long haul, Twiglet,’ Rosie sighed, closing her eyes. ‘It’s up to you and me to teach this little lady about life.’

  Twiglet cocked his ear. Now that was something he could do. Lead the baby in the right direction. Show her how to smell good and bad people, how to play fetch, how to chase a squirrel and how to swallow a whole bowl of food without chewing. Oh, yes, he would be an excellent teacher.

  ‘What do you think of the name Fennel?’

  Twiglet put his head on one side as he looked up at Rosie. He knew Doris the dachshund, Betty the cockerpoo and Jess the Great Dane. He’d met a William and a Colin and a Dougal but he’d never met a Fennel.

  ‘For the baby, I mean. I don’t want her to have the same name as all the other girls. She needs to stand out. She’s special!’

  Rosie smiled lovingly at the baby, peacefully asleep in her basket. Twiglet thought it was good to see Rosie happy again – even if she did look tired. The baby gurgled contentedly in her sleep and Twiglet wagged his tail.

  ‘Good,’ said Rosie. ‘Then Fennel it is.’

  Later that night, baby Fennel started to cry again. Before she could wake Rosie, Twiglet padded over to Fennel’s basket. The baby reached up and, this time, Twiglet didn’t shy away, letting her touch his ear and the soft skin round his mouth. Her cries settled down to soft whimpers, and eventually she fell back to sleep.

  With his keen boxer instincts, Twiglet quickly became Fennel’s guardian. The first time Rosie took Fennel for a walk round the park he even growled at Betty the cockerpoo because she bounded up too fast. He told the other dogs to be gentle with her and stuck to Fennel’s side the whole morning, only leaving her to quickly do his business under a bush.

  When they got back to the house, he sniffed Fennel all over to check she was in tip-top condition. She gurgled happily, snuffling at his fur. Rosie looked on fondly and Twiglet could tell she was glad that the two of them were such fast friends.

  Twiglet didn’t like it when strange humans came too close to Fennel’s basket, and liked it even less when they picked her up and made stupid cooing noises in her face.

  They don’t even let her sniff them first, and that’s just rude, he thought to himself.

  ‘Twiglet, don’t growl!’ said Rosie. ‘You know Grandma. She’s not going to do Fennel any harm.’

  Twiglet did know Grandma so he stopped growling, but he kept his eyes on her as she sat Fennel on her lap. He lay down at Grandma’s feet and pretended to go to sleep. He didn’t really, of course; he just closed his eyes and let his ears move left and right, listening out for any dangerous noises.

  ‘He’s very protective,’ said Rosie. ‘Even when we go for a walk, he won’t leave Fennel’s side. Lord knows what he’ll be like when I start taking her to baby groups. He’ll probably try to come too!’

  ‘What about when you go back to work, dear? What’s your plan then?’ asked Grandma.

  ‘Well, you know I can’t afford child care or a nanny …’ Twiglet heard a pleading note enter Rosie’s voice. ‘I was hoping you might be able to help me out?’

  ‘And get to spend even more time with Twiglet too?’ Grandma ga
ve a delighted laugh and clapped her hands together. ‘I’d love to. And I’m sure your brother would be happy to offer his services as well.’

  Twiglet knew that Fennel’s Uncle James and his partner, Matt, were great fun (they always brought him a bone whenever they came to visit), so he relaxed a little, knowing that he and Fennel would be in good hands.

  CHAPTER TWO

  First Words

  ‘My granddaughter is a delight!’ Grandma beamed. ‘Babysitting her is just like looking after a dog. I even found her trying to eat one of Twiglet’s biscuits this morning, if you can believe that!’

  Rosie frowned. Fennel looked up at her and lazily let her tongue hang out from the corner of her mouth, just like Twiglet did.

  ‘I suppose it’s not surprising when she spends so much time with him …’ Rosie said. ‘But I hope you gave her a proper biscuit instead.’

  It had been a year since she’d brought Fennel home and her little girl and Twiglet had become the best of friends.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a bit dog,’ Grandma said. ‘I’d rather be with dogs than humans most of the time!’

  Rosie picked up Fennel, who sniffed her behind the ear and then carefully licked her cheek.

  ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ Grandma chuckled. ‘It’s just a phase. She’ll grow out of it!’

  But Fennel didn’t grow out of it. As the year went on, Rosie began to observe that Fennel would much rather chase a ball in the garden than listen to a story and, if they were to avoid a tantrum of epic proportions, all her meals had to be served in a metal bowl rather than on a plate. Twiglet seemed to know exactly what Fennel meant if she gave a little bark or a whine but, despite Rosie’s best efforts, Fennel had yet to say her first words.

  ‘Mama,’ said Rosie, pointing to herself. ‘Mama.’

  Fennel barked.

  ‘Oh well,’ Grandma said, as Rosie’s shoulders slumped. ‘It’ll happen when she’s ready!’

  One Sunday morning, when two-year-old Fennel was slurping up cereal from her bowl, she suddenly looked up. She pointed at her best friend and said, clear as anything:

  ‘Twiglet!’

  Rosie beamed at her. ‘Well done, darling! That’s Twiglet. And what about me?’

  ‘Twiglet!’ Fennel said again.

  Rosie laughed and texted her brother:

  Fennel just said her first word!

  Wow! What did she say? replied Uncle James.

  Rosie sent back the answer with a crying-laughing emoji. Her phone pinged straight away with a row of little dogs.

  Uncle James and Uncle Matt came over later that day to play with Fennel and took her into the garden to throw her favourite ball.

  ‘Fennel!’ Uncle James shouted, when she was over on the other side of the lawn. She bounded towards him on all fours, Twiglet right by her side. Uncle James smiled. ‘Look, Matt – she really does act just like a dog!’

  Fennel sat on her haunches and looked up at him. Twiglet did the same. Uncle James ruffled Fennel’s hair, and then stroked Twiglet’s head.

  Uncle Matt looked bemused. ‘You’re right, she does. That’s … err … different.’

  Fennel went over to Uncle Matt’s side and he lifted her on to his lap. She curled into his chest and licked his hand. Then she grinned at Twiglet and gave a gruff bark. Uncle James laughed – but Twiglet’s heart leaped as he realized she was trying to speak in his language.

  ‘Best friends!’ she gurgled, in broken Doggish.

  Twiglet wagged his tail excitedly and barked back, ‘Forever!’

  Fennel soon grew into a gentle and obedient toddler. As long as she was near Twiglet, she was never any trouble at all.

  But at bedtime it was a different story.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ Rosie said to Grandma, after yet another sleepless night of tears and tantrums. ‘She’s got a lovely new bed and a beautiful night light but she just won’t go to sleep.’

  ‘Have you tried letting Twiglet sleep in her room?’ Grandma suggested.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s already so dependent on him.’

  Grandma shrugged and gave her a knowing look. ‘If you’re sure …’

  But after a few more sleepless nights, Rosie was ready to try anything.

  ‘Come on, then, Twiglet,’ she said, opening the door to Fennel’s room and letting him bound inside. Sure enough, as soon as she had her best friend cuddled up beside her, Fennel’s tears stopped.

  Fennel was becoming more and more like Twiglet as the months passed. Whenever someone came to the house, Fennel would wag her bottom from side to side as if she had an invisible tail. She would occasionally stand up if she wanted to reach something, but mainly she stuck to crawling around on all fours. It seemed that if that was good enough for Twiglet, it was good enough for her.

  As much as her mum loved to see her happy, sometimes Rosie had to draw the line.

  ‘FENNEL, NO! Get your face out of there!’

  Fennel lifted her face from Twiglet’s water bowl in surprise. She had been trying to scoop the water up with the end of her tongue like Twiglet, but human tongues weren’t made like a dog’s and it was proving impossible. There was water all over the kitchen floor.

  ‘Darling, you are NOT A DOG!’

  Rosie’s voice came out more firmly than she intended and immediately she could see the tears forming in Fennel’s eyes. Fennel slunk away and curled up with Twiglet in his basket, silently crying into his fur.

  Twiglet looked at Rosie and shook his head from side to side.

  Rosie glared at him. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Don’t you start!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Human Training

  ‘We need to talk about Fennel.’

  Uncle James and Uncle Matt were standing with their arms folded in the sitting room.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ Grandma said, looking offended.

  Rosie put a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Look …’

  They all turned to look at the dog basket, where Fennel and Twiglet were sitting in quiet companionship. Fennel stretched and started to lick the back of her hand.

  Grandma flushed. ‘I don’t think it’s that bad, do you? We all love dogs here.’ Twiglet got up and walked towards her, wagging his tail. She took his head in her hands and kissed him on the soft bit of his forehead.

  ‘Well, I’m worried about her,’ Uncle James continued. ‘Every other child her age is talking. They’re at least able to say ‘Mama’ or ‘Dada’. She can only say ‘Twiglet’ and bark. She eats her food out of a bowl, without using her hands, let alone cutlery. I’m not sure Fennel understands that she’s a human being at all. She thinks she’s a dog.’

  Grandma sniffed. ‘It’s probably because Rosie gave her a name that rhymes with kennel!’

  Rosie caught her brother’s eye. The two of them started giggling while Uncle Matt struggled to keep a straight face.

  ‘It might sound funny now,’ Uncle James said gently, ‘but it won’t be funny when she goes to school and the other parents see her behaving like a dog. They won’t want her round to play with their kids if she’s likely to growl at them and cock her leg on the tulips!’

  Twiglet was listening to all this with his head on one side. Uncle James had a point. Twiglet knew that he couldn’t be Fennel’s only friend. And if she was going to make new friends, he would have to help her act more like a human.

  Twiglet knew that Fennel was learning English just as quickly as she was picking up Doggish. She just needed to practise a bit more. So the next day, after they had both had their tea and he had let her win tug-of-war with a rope, Twiglet took Fennel into the garden and explained that her family were worried she was acting too much like a dog.

  ‘You’ve got to be more human,’ he said, as kindly as he could.

  ‘Why?’ Fennel sniffed. ‘Fennel and Twiglet. Dogs together.’

  ‘I know – I get it!’ Twiglet replied. ‘And we’ll always be toget
her. But you have to try to make human friends, otherwise you won’t fit in.’

  Twiglet had seen the way humans often seemed to be scared of being different. They dressed the same, did their hair the same, ate the same food, watched the same TV programmes, went on holiday to the same places, even painted their walls the same shade of cream.

  ‘Want to be a dog,’ Fennel insisted, crinkling her brow.

  ‘I know,’ said Twiglet, ‘but dogs don’t rule the world – humans do! And for your own sake, you need to try a bit harder to be like one.’

  They were interrupted by Rosie walking into the garden. ‘What are you two up to?’

  Fennel and Twiglet exchanged a glance.

  ‘Mama!’ said Fennel loudly, reaching up with her arms.

  Rosie hugged her tight, closing her eyes with glee. ‘Oh, you little star!’ she said, swinging her round. ‘You clever, clever girl. Isn’t she brilliant, Twiglet?’

  Twiglet wagged his tail. Excellent, he thought. It’s working.

  When they went to the park the next day with Grandma and Uncle James, Fennel put her new resolve to the test.

  Most toddlers would point at Twiglet and say, ‘Doggy!’ Their parents always looked proud and praised them for their mastery of the English language. Fennel couldn’t understand what the big deal was. Of course it was a ‘doggy’, but what breed was it? Fennel’s knowledge was far more advanced – she and Grandma often spent entire evenings watching old YouTube videos of Crufts. She pointed at different dogs and said:

  ‘Whippet. Border terrier. Poodle.’

  Sometimes she added a bit more detail.

  ‘Ugly pug. Fat Labrador.’

  ‘Fennel, shh!’ Grandma blushed and mumbled her apologies to the dogs’ horrified owners.

  ‘She’s the brightest toddler in town,’ Uncle James said proudly. ‘That Labrador was definitely on the podgy side …’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Guard Duty