Tea and Dog Biscuits

by Hawkins, Barrie

  Her face flushed with anger.

  The nurse with the big smile appeared holding a little plastic pot which she rattled.

  ‘I’ve got a right assortment here for you to take, Dorothy,’ she said.

  Dorothy managed to smile. I watched as she took tablet after tablet with the nurse making some notes.

  ‘Has your boy actually had his interview yet for Cambridge?’ I asked the nurse.

  ‘Tuesday,’ she said and crossed her fingers.

  ‘Wish him luck from me,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. And I got another one of those big smiles.

  When she’d gone Dorothy said, ‘Hospital isn’t the place to be discussing this, my Barrie… but I think you should remind yourself of somebody else who went into hospital…’

  She took hold of my hand. ‘Next time what that man said comes into your thoughts then you remind yourself of Sarah Phipps. Instead of his “Why don’t you do things for people?” spoiling your day, remember what she said instead.’

  My wife had managed to still me. There we were in that gigantic hospital with all that turmoil around us, all that activity, all those people, but in our little bit of space at the far end of the ward for several moments all was quiet. And I could hear in my thoughts the voice of Sarah Phipps. She had such courage and selfless concern: ‘I’m not afraid to die, Mr Hawkins. I’m just afraid of what will happen to my dog when I do.’

  Dorothy took hold of my other hand as well and gave them both a gentle squeeze. ‘And I bet you that man is one of those types who doesn’t do anything to help either animals or people.’

  Then she rested her forehead against my forehead.

  ‘Now let’s forget about him,’ she said. We’ve taken in eighteen homeless dogs in a year and that’s what matters.’

  ‘Seventeen,’ I said. ‘Jess that we got from Luke the young vet in London wasn’t in need of a home – he had one, remember?’

  ‘We didn’t know that. Still, I suppose you’re right. Who’d argue with a lawyer? Seventeen, then.’

  ‘Actually…’ I said, slowly, ‘it will be…’

  We were standing together, holding hands, our foreheads resting together, gazing down at the floor. My smiley nurse had returned to collect the little pot. ‘You two all right there?’ she asked.

  Foreheads still stuck together we both twisted our heads and tried to nod at the nurse. That produced the biggest smile I’d seen so far and she went off.

  ‘Twenty,’ I said to Dorothy.

  She pulled away from me to get a better look at my face to see if I was joking.

  ‘Crazy Cecilia is bringing us three this afternoon…’

  Dorothy compressed her lips together for a moment in thought before saying, ‘Well, we’ve had three in one day before now.’

  They’re… er… guard dogs,’ I said to the floor.

  This was followed by several moments of silence. I lifted my head to find that Dorothy was standing with her mouth open.

  ‘From a… car breakers’ yard,’ I added.

  Dorothy felt the need to sit down on her bed.

  ‘We’ve had one before, don’t forget,’ I said. ‘Orphan Number Seven, Digby. And I don’t suppose there’ll be any Scouts on tour this time.’

  I paused, expecting Dorothy to say something but she didn’t. I think she was speechless for once.

  ‘I’ll cope,’ I said.

  And I did. Dorothy may have been surprised when she came home the next morning to find that everything had gone smoothly.

  Their owner had come with them. He was closing his car breakers’ yard to look after his elderly mother and without the yard he had nowhere to keep his dogs. And they were visual guards: their presence and barking a deterrent against burglars. He’d had two, a male, Homer, and a female, Marge, and then an unplanned family. Mr Nolan thought his lad too old to father pups at ten but his lad had other ideas. And Mr Nolan had kept the one in the litter, Bart, that was most like his dad.

  Mr Nolan, Cecilia and I took the family to the boarding kennels who kindly took our orphans at a reduced fee when we needed somewhere to put a dog. They had a luxury brick-built kennel and run that held three dogs and so the family could stay together. But I wondered how difficult it was going to be to keep them together permanently, to home a family.

  ‘Thank you for taking them, Barrie,’ said Cecilia, giving me a bear hug. ‘And this is for you and Dorothy.’ She produced a parcel, gift-wrapped in Christmas paper. It was the first time we’d seen her since Christmas and this was our present. I left it for Dorothy to open the next morning when she came back from hospital. It was a plastic dog, a novelty, with amusing big ears and big eyes. It was in fact a pencil sharpener but I could never bring myself to insert the pencil where it was supposed to go.

  That evening we were having a Chinese takeaway – a double celebration. As I sniffed the soup appreciatively I thought I heard a car door slam. We weren’t expecting any visitors. I could see through the curtain a car had stopped at the end of the drive and a young male was standing looking about him. Then I saw he had a dog with him.

  I sighed. ‘I’d better go and see what it’s about,’ I said to Dorothy.

  I opened the front door. A young woman had also now got out of the car, but she had her back to me. The young man opened our gate to let the dog in. At that distance all I could see was that it was a German Shepherd, dark, a lot more black on him than usual. The dog paused and looked about him. Then he must have seen me, for he stood gazing in my direction. The young man followed him in. The dog stood staring at me for several moments, the young man watching me. I began to feel slightly uneasy – I hoped this dog was friendly. He was certainly fixing his gaze on me. Suddenly he trotted off down the drive towards me, picking up speed as he got closer. He stopped just before he got to the Volvo estate parked on the drive. He stood with one front paw held up. I do not know how long that dog and I stood each looking at the other across the few yards of the drive, but it was one of those instances where time suddenly stood still.

  Was there something familiar about him? That face…?

  The dog took a few more steps towards me, then hesitated. He tilted his head. Looking back on it now, I realise that his hesitation was because I had not reacted how he expected. Until then I had not recognised him.

  At first, I couldn’t believe who I thought it might be. It was some months since he had gone. This couldn’t be the same dog…?

  And then he came to me. And it was.

  I dropped to my knees and put my arms around his bulky shoulders and chest.

  ‘Friend… Friend… ’

  It was making me gasp.

  The young man who I did not know waited for the young woman to join him, and that was Hannah, with whom we had homed Friend. So great, so incredible a transformation, for a moment at first it was only Hannah being there that convinced me this could be Friend.

  But of course it was Friend. Now I could see it. This hefty, handsome male with a shining, thick coat, a wagging tail and a cold wet nose, who was licking my ear.

  ‘Hello, you two,’ said Hannah and I realised that Dorothy was standing behind me. They embraced and Hannah introduced the young man as her fiance.

  I couldn’t help it. Thinking about the state he had been in, found lying on the pavement, the skeletal body, the sores, the state of his eyes, the hours I had spent sitting with him night after night in the utility room… It was all too much for me. The tears streamed down my face as I hugged him.

  For a few moments I found it difficult to get my breath. Then I thought, I must pull myself together. Dorothy and Hannah were giving each other knowing smiles but the young man was gazing at me. He was big, sporty and muscular.

  ‘You, er, must think I’m an idiot,’ I said.

  He shook his head and gave me a smile. ‘Hannah showed me the pictures you gave her of when he first came in,’ the young man said.

  A blackbird landed on the lawn and Friend went off to i
nvestigate.

  ‘He looks fantastic, Hannah,’ I said. ‘I cannot believe it’s the same dog.’

  We never could believe our luck in finding a veterinary nurse to take him on,’ Dorothy said to her. She turned to me. ‘If Melissa saw him now she would say he was three or four.’

  ‘The vet I work for thinks he’s only about three,’ said Hannah.

  The dog that used to be a hundred years old.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve spoilt him,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘He’s earned it.’

  ‘Yes, although I shouldn’t be giving him brandy ice cream,’ she said. ‘But it’s his favourite.’

  ‘What?!’ I said in mock horror. ‘Brandy ice cream? I wouldn’t mind some brandy ice cream myself. In fact, I think I could do with a brandy.’

  Perhaps Friend had heard the words ‘brandy ice cream’ for he came back to me and nudged my hand. I took hold of his pillar-box red collar to admire it. As I touched his neck I had a surprise.

  ‘He’s all wet,’ I said. ‘He’s wet all round his neck and on his shoulder – what’s he been doing?’

  Dorothy, Hannah and the young man all looked at me for a moment – then burst into laughter.

  What was so funny?

  ‘It’s you that’s made him so wet, Barrie,’ said Dorothy. ‘With your tears.’

  We stood on the doorstep waving goodbye.

  The car disappeared from view, leaving us both with our own thoughts. Dorothy broke the silence.

  ‘Well, we got that one right, didn’t we?’

  We sure did.

  ‘I’ve got something for you inside,’ said Dorothy.

  ‘A present?’

  ‘I couldn’t give you a better anniversary present than you’ve just had.’

  In the living room she held up a sheet of paper on which there were several paragraphs in her distinctive handwriting.

  ‘Just in case we did go on with the rescue work,’ said Dorothy, ‘I thought it might help if we tried to make clear to ourselves what it was we were trying to do. Then if we did decide to continue, we would have something to guide us.’

  I took the sheet of paper from her and read:

  MISSION STATEMENT

  Our beliefs and objectives

  We believe every dog that is brought into this world deserves to receive proper care and treatment from his or her owner.

  Every dog who comes to us is WELCOME and will be welcomed. If we are suffering pressure from workload or lack of resources we remind ourselves that this is not the fault of this dog.

  Each dog will remain with us long enough for us to get to know his or her character and ways, so as to place that dog in a home well suited to the dog and the new keeper.

  We will not home a dog where we have a lurking doubt about the suitability of the home for the dog or the dog for the home, even if we are under pressure from the lack of available homes or other resources.

  For the owner who finds him or herself unable to keep their dog, and is concerned about the dog’s future, we want to provide safe hands in which to place their friend.

  We will help the new keeper by supplying information about the dog and his or her training and care.

  We will never euthanise a dog except on the advice of a veterinary surgeon.

  IN MEMORY OF ELSA

  We had been married long enough for me to know that writing the Mission Statement meant not only that Dorothy wanted to go on, but how committed she was.

  I took the Mission Statement and pinned it up on the inside of our front door so we would be reminded of it every time we opened the door to the next orphan.

  Postscript

  A few weeks after Dorothy wrote the Mission Statement, we received a letter. It was from Mr Thomas, who had given a home to Millie, the World’s Smallest German Shepherd dog.

  4 Railway Cottages

  Darrington

  Sunday 23 April

  Dear Mr and Mrs Hawkins,

  I wanted to write and tell you how well Millie has settled in. Although I have had her only for a few months, from the very first week it was as if she had been with me for years.

  She is everything you said she would be as a German Shepherd dog, and more. We have been going to training classes, which she really enjoys, to give her something to occupy that brain of hers, and to make an evening out for both of us. She loves her walks and she and I have made friends with another German Shepherd we met and his owner.

  When I took Millie from you I thought I was doing her a favour in giving her a home, but I now realise it was you and she who did the favour for me. I have no wish to remarry since losing my dear wife, and our two sons are grown up and moved away, so Millie has become my wonderful companion.

  By providing her with a home I feel I am doing something useful and that gives me a sense of satisfaction. I must also add that once a week Millie and I visit a friend who now lives in a care home and for many of the residents it is the highlight of their week. They make a fuss of Millie and stroke her and many of them talk to me about not just the dogs they themselves had but other pets as well.

  I thank you and Millie for giving me a reason to look forward to each day. With kindest regards,

  Peter Thomas

  We added to the Mission Statement one final paragraph:

  In setting out to do our work our original concern was to help the homeless dog. We have come to realise that in giving some of our time and effort to help these animals we are also doing something for the benefit of human beings. A dog can bring to a responsible keeper companionship, an incentive to healthy exercise, enjoyment and laughter. They enrich the lives of many people.

  Author’s Note

  Barrie and Dorothy are setting up a registered charity to continue and perhaps expand the work they do. For more information about this please visit the website:

  www.gsdhomeflnders.org.uk

  Barrie continues giving talks to groups and as an afterdinner speaker – he has improved a lot since that first talk to the Ladies’ Circle! Details can be found on his website:

  www.barriehawkins.net