Puppy Called Dez. John Tovey
I wagged my tail to show I was. I loved dinner and breakfast. In fact, I loved all food.
‘Well, just you pull your head out of the bars then, so I can get in,’ she said.
Like a small car in reverse, I backed my body up, but as I tried to pull out my head, I realised it was stuck. With all my might, I pulled again, but the bars pushed hard against my ginormous ears, trapping them. No matter how hard I tried, my huge, square-shaped head wouldn’t budge.
‘Oh no, you’re not stuck, are you?’ the lady gasped.
I nodded glumly because I felt pretty stupid, especially in front of Star, who’d just been telling me how clever I was. Then I watched as the lady placed both bowls of food on the floor, but far enough out of reach to stop me from snaffling them. She called out to a man who came over to help. He held my head while she wrapped both hands around my belly and tried her hardest to yank me out. They pushed and pulled for ages, but it was no good – I was stuck!
‘I think someone’s been eating too many dinners,’ the woman chuckled, as the man disappeared off to fetch a sponge, some water and soap.
‘Oh no, I’m going to be stuck here forever!’ I wailed as Violet began to laugh behind me.
‘Look at old fat bum,’ she crowed.
I pulled again, but it was no good. My big ears were firmly wedged between the metal bars. Now I was well and truly stuck.
It took a whole bar of soap, a lot of bubbles and a bit of brute force. My head was soaked in slippy white foam, but somehow they managed to pull me free. My ears were full of bubbles, but other than that, I was as good as new and cleaner than I’d been in ages.
‘I think someone needs to go on a diet,’ Violet sneered later, as I snuggled down next to Mum for a cuddle. She waited until Mum wasn’t looking and poked me hard in the ribs with a sharpened claw. It made my belly wobble like a jelly.
‘You’re useless,’ she whispered, so the others wouldn’t hear. ‘Anyway, I’ve told you, you’ll never become a guide dog because you’re fat and stupid. It’s the big test next week and you’re bound to fail. If you fail then they’ll send you away from here, forever! You’ll never see us or Mum again…’
But I’d stopped listening.
‘Hang on, what test?’ I said, sitting up.
‘Puppy SATS! Why, haven’t you been practising? I’ve been practising for weeks and I know it all off by heart,’ she crowed.
I gulped because I didn’t know what she was talking about. No one had said anything to me about a puppy test.
‘Violet,’ I said, beginning to panic, ‘will you help me practise? Will you show me what to do?’
‘No chance! I’m not helping you because if you fail then they’ll send you away and I won’t ever have to see your ugly mug ever again.’
With that, she turned and fell asleep.
But I couldn’t sleep because I was worried – worried about Puppy SATS.
What if I failed? Then I’d never become a guide dog. What would I do then? Who would have me? I’d be sent away and I’d never see Mum or my brothers and sisters again.
While the others slept soundly with their heads against Mum’s warm body, I was so worried that it made my stomach hurt. I was exhausted but eventually I fell into a fitful night’s sleep. But then I had nightmares. I heard Violet laughing as I was picked up and carted off in a van. I was so scared and tired in the morning that by the time breakfast had arrived, I’d completely lost my appetite.
‘What’s the matter, Dezzy boy, not eating? That’s not like you,’ the handler said.
I turned and walked away from my bowl. As I wandered over towards my bed and flopped inside, my mind whirred with worry. The others seemed confused as they finished their breakfasts, but I didn’t want to talk to them because I was all churned up inside. I couldn’t face them or food because I felt as sick as a dog – sick with nerves. If I failed the test then I’d never become a guide dog and my dream would be over before it had even begun.
With the test looming over me, I tried my best to remember what it took to be a good guide dog.
Number 1. Looking all around. I scribbled at the top of the list.
Number 2. Listening.
Number 3. Being a good friend, I wrote, but then I stopped because I couldn’t think of a number four.
I held the pencil in my paw and scratched the back of my ear with the tip of it.
‘Whatcha doing, Dez?’ a voice called from over my shoulder.
It was Vicky.
‘Nothing much, I’m just trying to remember what it takes to be a good guide dog.’
I sharpened up the end of my pencil. Wooden shavings curled out in small ribbons and fell against the piece of paper in my hand. I took a deep breath and blew them away.
‘What for?’ she asked, with a puzzled look on her face.
‘Because we’ve got some exams coming up, Violet said so.’
Vicky shook her head. ‘Oh, Dez, you’re such a worrier! Anyway, it’s not a written test, it’s a physical one.’
‘Physical?’
‘Yeah, it’s to test how good you are at running through tunnels, whether you know your name, that sort of thing.’
I placed the pencil down on the floor.
‘So we won’t have to write anything?’ I gasped, sitting up with my back against the side of the pen.
‘No, not at all! Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.’
‘But… but… Violet said…’
Vicky waved her paw as if trying to swat Violet’s name away.
‘Oh, don’t listen to a word she says, because you know what she’s like. Violet says things to wind you up, because she knows how much you worry.’
I scratched my head.
‘So, I don’t have to do this sort of thing?’ I asked, pointing towards the list.
‘Nope.’
‘So, would you help me?’ I begged. ‘I mean, would you help me pass the exam?’
Vicky wrapped a comforting paw around my shoulder. ‘Of course I will, little bruv. Now, stop worrying and you’ll be fine.’
For the rest of the day, Vicky had me running through tunnels we’d built using bits of cardboard. My stomach got wedged in the middle of them a few times, but by now, I was determined to become the best guide dog ever! I even started to watch how much I ate. And I practised until I became as fast as I could. In fact, I was so fast, I was knocking things over.
‘No, Dez, you need to slow down if you want to do well,’ Mum called from her bed.
But Violet disagreed. ‘No, you need to go faster. In fact, the faster, the better! The quicker you are, the better guide dog you’ll make.’
‘Really?’