Eva Ibbotson: One Dog and His Boy

But the phantom dog remained a phantom. Nobody scratched on the door when Hal’s birthday came and the sound of barking which made Hal’s heart beat fast turned out to be in the street. Hal dressed and went downstairs, where his mother waited beside the breakfast table piled high with parcels. Hamleys was not the best known toy shop in London for nothing; they had sent the latest Xbox game, and a new board game and a laser gun and a radio-controlled metal-detecting car. Harrods had sent an iPod and a giant chemistry set and a Roboquad…

“Now are you happy?” said his mother, watching him as he opened his parcels, and he said yes, he was, and she told him that his father would be back that evening and would bring something from the airport.

“Did my grandparents send me anything?” asked Hal, and Albina sighed and produced a small packet wrapped in brown paper.

Her husband’s parents were poor and lived in a small cottage on the Northumbrian coast. They had come on a visit once when Hal was small, carrying their belongings in an ancient suitcase tied up with string – and really it had been impossible not to be ashamed of them. They hadn’t come again, but they sent the most extraordinary gifts for Hal at Christmas and on his birthday. If one couldn’t afford a proper present, surely it was better to do nothing than send a seashell or a piece of rock, thought Albina. Yet Hal always looked pleased with their gifts, and now he gazed at something small and brown and crumbly as he had not looked at any of his other things.

“It’s a sea horse,” he said, looking at the note that came with it. “It got washed up on one of the rocks. The fishermen say that it brings luck.”

So Hal took his presents upstairs and played with them, and in the afternoon the van arrived with the party tea and the birthday cake shaped like a pair of trainers (because nothing that Albina ordered was shaped like itself, and a cake that looked like a cake would have bored her very much). Then the friends came – only they weren’t really his friends; he had left those at his old school – and played with his toys and broke the metal-detecting car and tipped the chemistry set on the floor.

But after they had had tea and watched a conjurer there came a surprise.

A van drew up outside; the bell rang – and then the door opened and a … thing … burst into the room. It was big and dressed in a yellow furry skin, and it had floppy black ears, a lolling pink tongue, and a tail.

For a moment it pranced about on two legs; then it dropped down on all fours and crawled towards Hal and an odd strangled noise came from it which sounded like “Woof, woof.”

When it reached Hal, it dropped a big greeting card from its mouth – and in a hoarse voice it began to sing.

“I am your Birthday Doggie,

Your Doggie for the day.

Just pat me and I’ll—”

But the song broke off with a splutter because Hal had gone mad.

“Stop it. Come out of there,” he yelled, pulling at the creature’s head. “How dare you?” He gave a last tug, and the sweaty red face of the man from the Huggograms Agency stared at him. “How dare you pretend to be a dog!” And he began to kick at the man’s shins. “You’re disgusting. Get out. Go away.”

But Alfred Potts, the man inside the suit, had worked hard at his routine. He hadn’t had a fag for a whole hour, and he’d cut down on the beer before he came, and he wasn’t going to be kicked by a flea-sized kid.

“Now you just pipe down, will you,” he said, gripping Hal’s arm. “Here’s your mum trying to give you a bit of fun, you ungrateful little—”

But before he could finish, Hal slipped from his grasp and ran sobbing out of the room.

And that was the end of the party.

It was late in the evening before the big Mercedes came up the drive and disappeared into the underground garage. A few minutes later Donald Fenton came in and was greeted by his wife.

“Have you got something for Hal?” she said hurriedly. “You haven’t forgotten it’s his birthday?”

Mr Fenton clapped his hand over his mouth. He had forgotten. “I was in a meeting till an hour before the plane was due to leave. I nearly didn’t make it.”

“Oh dear! He kept asking if you’d be back. Well, go and say goodnight to him anyway, he’s upset.” And she explained about Mr Potts and the huggogram.

Donald went slowly upstairs. He shouldn’t have forgotten Hal’s birthday, but he hadn’t had a minute to himself all day – and the boy would have had tons of presents – Albina always saw to that. When he was Hal’s age all he’d had for his birthday was a home-made fishing rod.

Hal was sitting up in bed waiting. He looked small and peaky and there were dark rings under his eyes.

“I’ve come straight from the airport,” explained his father. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to get you a present, but we’ll go shopping tomorrow. I can get away early. Is there anything you’d like?”

Hal shook his head. “All I ever wanted was a dog.”

But he spoke listlessly; it was all over. That horrible man smelling of cigarettes and beer had somehow destroyed his dream.

Mr Fenton looked at his son – and then he had an idea. “All right, Hal. We’ll go out tomorrow and get one.”

Downstairs, Albina Fenton heard a shriek of joy coming from Hal’s room. “What is it?” she asked her husband when he came downstairs. “What’s going on?”

Donald was smiling, looking very pleased with himself.

“I’ve told him we’ll get a dog. Tomorrow.”

“A dog! You’re mad, Donald. I’ve told you and I’ve told Hal, I absolutely won’t have my house destroyed by an animal.”

“It’s only for the weekend, Albina. They don’t rent them out for longer than that.”

“Who doesn’t? What are you talking about?”

“The Easy Pets people. It’s a place where they rent out dogs – it’s round the corner from the office. My secretary told me about it. You can get any dog you like for an hour or a day – people rent them when they want to impress their friends or go into the country. They’re very carefully chosen – housetrained and all.”

“Yes, but what happens when it’s time to take the dog back? Are you going to tell Hal it’s only for the weekend?”

“Good heavens, no! By the time the dog has to go back, Hal will be tired of him – you know how quickly children get bored with the things you give them. He only played with that indoor space projector we got him for Christmas for a couple of days and it cost the earth.”

“Well, I hope you’re right. I really couldn’t stand any fuss.”

“I am right,” said Donald firmly.

And anyway, when it was time for the dog to go back he’d be on the way to New York.

The Easy Pets Dog Agency was owned by a couple called Myron and Mavis Carker. The Carkers were greedy and selfish and they liked making money more than anything in the world.

But they were clever. They had realized that nowadays most people didn’t want anything to last for a long time. People changed their houses and their cars again and again; they changed their children’s schools and the places where they went for holidays – they even changed their wives or their husbands when they looked like they were becoming a bit ordinary and dull.

So why would they want to hang on to their dogs? The slogan “A Dog is for Life and Not Just for Christmas” simply wasn’t true for a great many people. Dogs, like children, were a tie; you couldn’t do exactly what you wanted with a dog in the household.