The neighbour reminded Edward that Fred had taken me on as an unwanted pup, and said she doubted there would be any ownership papers. She told him that as far as she knew, Fred hadn’t even had me microchipped.
This was true. As Fred and I were always together, he never saw the point.
Edward bundled me into his car. I was shaking with nerves, wondering what would become of me at this rescue centre where I was being taken. It was only a couple of days since Fred had died, and I missed him so badly. Everything in my life was in turmoil.
We’d been driving for fifteen minutes when Edward got a call on his mobile phone. When he answered it, he spoke for several minutes with the caller, who seemed to have some urgent work issue Edward needed to deal with. Edward’s mood, which was never good at the best of times, only got darker as the phone call continued. By the time he hung up, it was obvious that the work issue required him to return to Birmingham immediately.
Edward pulled the car to the side of the road, turned around in the driver’s seat and scowled at me. He then tapped at the map on the dashboard screen and sighed, before looking around the area where he’d stopped the car.
Edward didn’t speak to me—he wasn’t the sort of person who had time for chatting with ‘dumb’ animals—but the dark intensity of his thoughts made it impossible for me not to read them.
No time to get to the stupid rescue centre with this stupid dog… Need to get back to work, back to my own life, not waste time faffing around with idiots at a rescue centre who’ll ask a million questions before they let me leave… The stupid mutt isn’t my responsibility… Don’t know why my idiot father hadto get a dog anyway, just one more thing for me to deal with now he’s gone… Can’t be doing with all this inconvenience… No choice really, and if there’s no microchip, no one will ever know…
My heart was pounding as Edward steered the car off the road towards a woodland area. The rutted gravel road was rough as we bounced along. At length, Edward stopped the car and performed a three-point turn and then parked along the verge, pointing in the direction we’d come in.
Edward got out of the car and took me with him. There was a small box of toys in the car beside me, balls and squeakies and whatnot, and when Edward grabbed one of the balls, I wondered if I’d misread the man’s thoughts and he just wanted to stop on the journey and make sure I got some exercise.
Edward clipped my lead to my collar and led me into the woodland. After walking for about twenty seconds, we were already deep into the dense trees. He stopped and looked around him. We were all alone.
Edward reached down and unfastened my collar. I blinked in confusion. Fred never removed my collar when we were out and about. Attached to my collar was the little metal disc on which was engraved Fred’s phone number, which he’d always said was in case I ever escaped into a neighbour’s garden and they needed to phone him to come and fetch me.
In the quiet patch of woodland, Edward shoved my collar and lead into his jacket pocket and then looked around him, as if checking the coast was clear. In his other hand, he was holding the ball he’d brought and he tossed it in the air.
“Do you want this, you dumb mutt?” he said.
His tone was laced with malevolence, but the excitement of seeing my favourite ball about to be thrown triggered my instincts, and I planted my bottom on the ground, just like Fred had taught me.
Edward grinned, a nasty grin that I should’ve been alert to, but wasn’t. Maybe I was a dumb mutt after all, just like he said.
He pulled his arm back and lobbed the ball deep into the woodland. I gave chase, hurtling after the ball as it soared through the air between the trees and bounced along the ground before rolling down into a ditch where a small stream ran. The sides of the ditch were steep, and I tumbled off my feet in pursuit, landing in the mucky stream with a splash. The ball was already being carried off with the current of the little stream, and I plunged after it.
By the time I grabbed the ball in my mouth and hauled myself out of the muddy ditch, I was wet all over and very dirty. But that meant nothing in the excitement of having caught my ball.
Triumphant, I ran back to where Edward had been standing when he’d thrown the ball… and realised he wasn’t there.
Baffled, I looked around, wondering if I’d veered off course while running back to the spot where we’d started. That’s when I caught a flicker of movement on the edge of the treeline.
Edward was running out of the woods and back towards where he’d parked the car.
Even more confused now, I let out a woof and chased after him.
When I reached the edge of the woodland a few seconds later, Edward was already in the car and turning on the engine.
And by the time I made it to the car, he was accelerating away, the car bouncing over the rutted gravel road as he sped off.
A tidal wave of alarm and panic crashed through me. Dropping the ball from my mouth, I barked and gave chase.
But my tiny terrier legs were no match for a motor car. It vanished around a bend on the gravel road, and when I finally reached the same spot and peered into the distance, I saw Edward’s car turning back onto the main road beyond.
It disappeared into the traffic and was gone.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, wet and muddy and panicking, before I started running again. Some part of my brain must have known my chase was futile, but what else could I do? Where else could I go?
I raced along the gravel road and out towards the main road… and I just kept running.
All I knew was panic.
Because of that panic, I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, and I wasn’t making good choices.
