Buttons the Runaway Puppy

Chapter Seven

With no Buttons, it felt like there was a hole in the house. She wasn’t jumping hopefully round while the Martins got ready to go out, begging with her enormous eyes for them to take her, too. She wasn’t there barking with delight when they got home again. She wasn’t sitting under the table during meals, her nose wedged lovingly on someone’s knee, waiting for crumbs or the odd toast crust. She wasn’t on Sophie’s bed at night, so Sophie could burrow her toes underneath her warm weight. She was gone.

The summer days stretched out emptily with no dog to walk. Everyone moped around the house, until Mum and Dad sat the children down to talk one morning, just a few days after they’d taken Buttons back.

“Look, I know you all miss Buttons,” Dad told them gently. “We had her for nearly a month, long enough for it to feel like she was ours. But try and think of it like this. You did such a good job looking after her, and now she’s back where she belongs. Mr Jenkins needs her more than we do – she’s all he’s got. We’re really proud of you, you know. Especially all that hard work you put into training her.” He smiled at their mum, and she nodded. “So we were thinking, maybe it’s time we let you have a dog of your own.” He sat back and looked at them hopefully, but no one said anything. And then Sophie got up from the table and ran out of the room.

“She only wants Buttons,” Michael muttered.

Dad nodded sadly. “I guess it might be a bit too soon. But I mean it, boys. You all did well. And you deserve a dog of your own, when you’re ready for one.”

That weekend, Dad loaded them all into the car, and refused to tell the children where they were going. “It’s a secret,” he said, smiling at their mum.

They drove through the town, and Sophie and Michael and Tom tried to work out where they were heading, but Dad wouldn’t say if they were right.

Then suddenly Sophie gasped. “The shelter! We’re going to the dogs’ home, aren’t we?” Her voice shook, and she was choking up as she went on. “Please don’t, Dad. I don’t want to look at other dogs.”

“Hey, come on, Sophie, let’s just go and see,” Tom said excitedly. “Is she right, Dad? Are we going to the shelter?”

“Yup.” Dad pulled up close to a big blue sign that said Rushbrook Animal Shelter. “And we’re here. Come on, everyone.”

“Remember we’re just looking at the moment,” Mum warned the boys, as she walked in with her arm round Sophie, who was trying really hard not to cry.

“We know!” Michael promised, but he and Tom were racing ahead, eager to see all the dogs they were imagining could be theirs.

“I hope this wasn’t a bad idea,” Mum murmured.

The shelter was full, and all the dogs looked desperate for new homes. Even though Sophie hated the thought of getting another dog – it would feel like she had forgotten Buttons – she had to read the cards over the pens. And once she knew the dogs’ names, and their stories, she couldn’t help caring about them a little bit.

“Oh, Sophie, look…” Mum was crouching next to the wire front of a pen, gazing at a greyhound, whose long legs were spilling out of his basket. “He’s lovely, isn’t he? Not that we could get a greyhound, they must need so much exercise. Look at his legs!”

“Actually it says here that older greyhounds don’t like too much exercise. They’re quite lazy. He’s called Fred and he’s looking for a quiet, loving home.” Sophie looked at Fred, snoozing happily. “He looks pretty relaxed,” she said, giggling.

“Oh, it’s nice to see you smile!” Her mum hugged her. “Sophie, you know, even if you don’t want a dog now, I’m sure you will one day. You were so wonderful with Buttons.”

“That’s because she was wonderful,” Sophie whispered, digging her nails into her palms so as not to start crying again. “Sorry, Mum.” She sniffed hard, and turned back to look at Fred. “He does look lovely, though,” she said bravely.

Michael and Tom wanted about six different dogs each, but on the way home in the car even they had to agree that the perfect dog hadn’t been at the shelter this time. “But they said they get new dogs all the time, Dad,” Tom pointed out. “Can we go back soon?” Sophie leaned against the window and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could bear to go again. All those gorgeous dogs, all wanting a home and someone to love them. But Sophie just couldn’t love another dog. Not yet.

At Mr Jenkins’s house, Buttons was moping, too. She tried not to show it, but it was so hard going back to little short walks. Mr Jenkins was much, much better since his operation, but he still had a stick, and he couldn’t walk fast, or for very long. There were no more fantastic runs over the common. No imaginary rabbit-hunting in the woods. Just slow, gentle ambles round the streets. Mr Jenkins couldn’t help noticing on their walks that his bouncy, overexcited little puppy had turned into a sad young dog instead. He was glad that she was so well-behaved, of course – Sophie and her brothers had done wonders with her – but he almost wished that just occasionally she would be her silly, happy little self again.

Buttons was very good. She walked to heel, like Tom and Michael and Sophie had shown her. She wondered if Mr Jenkins would let her off the lead, so she could fetch, but she supposed he didn’t know she could do that now. She never tried to get out of the garden, even though she could have done, if she’d wanted. She knew how to open the bolt after all. She looked at it sometimes, and wondered about going to see Sophie. But she wasn’t supposed to. She didn’t belong there any more.