Eva Ibbotson: One Dog and His Boy

Hal was looking a little strained now. He had been absolutely certain that he would know when he came to the dog that was for him – yet they had passed so many marvellous dogs and no voice had spoken inside his head and said, “Stop! This is the one.”

Suppose he had been mistaken? Suppose there wasn’t one dog waiting for him which he would instantly recognize? And Kayley, seeing his anxiety, put her arm round his shoulders and they moved on into the next room, Room C, where she pointed out the special things about each of the dogs they came to: the markings round the eyes of a deerhound, which in the old days had made people think they could tell the future … the tight woolly coat of the Irish water spaniel which meant they could swim in the coldest water.

And still Hal marvelled at the dogs, and still he shook his head, and still they went on.

Hal’s father had come to join them now and he tried to give Hal some advice. “That boxer’s got a nice smooth coat – he wouldn’t make too much of a mess,” he said. Or, “I dare say your mother wouldn’t mind that little dachshund too much?”

But Hal, with his forehead crumpled up, scarcely heard what he said. With Kayley beside him, he walked from dog to dog – and looked … and did not say the words that everybody waited for.

Room A now. They passed Otto, and Hal stopped to give him an extra scratch between the ears. The beauty of his character shone through; this was a very special dog, and he saw how tenderly Kayley smiled at him. Francine too; Hal could see through the fussy poodle clipping to her hardworking, steady soul. Then the collie … Hal had seen every Lassie film ever made – but still he did not stop. Nor did he stop for the Peke, or Queen Tilly lying on her hot water bottle.

But this was the last room. There was one cage in the corner but it was empty. There were no more dogs.

“I was wrong,” he said in a small voice. “I thought I would know.”

It didn’t matter. Every dog in the place was worth having. He would get Kayley to pick one out for him, but his confidence was gone.

It was at this moment that two men in brown overalls came through the door which led from the street into the cubbyhole.

“We’ve had a message from the shelter,” one of them said. “They’ve got a burst pipe – the floor’s awash and they can’t take in any more animals tonight, so we’ve brought him back. Number fifty-one.”

“Where is he?” asked Kayley.

“He’s still in his crate out at the back. We were just going to load him up when we got the message. Where do you want him?”

“Bring him in here,” said Kayley.

“Oh, we can’t do that. Mr Carker’s signed him off – he wouldn’t want—”

“Bring him in,” repeated the kennel maid.

There was a short pause; then the men shrugged and went out again.

Kayley followed them. There was the sound of a crate being prised open, and something small and white appeared in the doorway. For a moment, Fleck stood still and looked about him. Then like a bullet from a gun he shot across the room and hurled himself at Hal. Almost at the same time, Hal dropped to his knees and held out his arms.

“I told you!” he cried. “I told you I’d know. I told you both of us would know!”

Mr Carker came in at that point and took everything in.

“Ah, you have found the Tottenham terrier,” he said with an oily smile. “We were just about to take him to … to a dog show … but there’s been a delay.” He turned to Mr Fenton. “Of course for a dog like that we’d have to charge considerably more. The breed is still very rare.”

Mr Fenton was about to complain, but then he looked at Hal. Or rather he looked at the bundle that was Hal and the dog, seeming to merge into a single thing – and he shrugged and followed Mr Carker to his office.

“He’s called Fleck,” said Kayley, when the men had gone. “It’s because—”

Hal looked up at her. “I know why – it’s because he’s got a gold fleck in his left eye.”

“Yes,” said Kayley. “That is exactly why.”

Hal woke feeling … unusual. He was warm – but that wasn’t so odd. What was odd was that he felt happy. Comfortable. Safe. Not as though he had had bad dreams – not as though he had had dreams at all.

On the other hand his bed was hard. It was surprisingly hard. Then he realized it wasn’t a bed at all. He was lying on the floor with his duvet over him, and then he remembered. He had promised not to let Fleck sleep on his bed, and he had kept his promise. But he wasn’t going to leave his dog alone on his first day in his new home.

And at this moment a cold nose was thrust into his hand – and Fleck exploded into the glory of a new day. Like his owner, Fleck woke to safety and happiness and warmth. He leapt on to Hal’s chest, he licked his ear, he jumped off and rolled over so that Hal could rub his stomach.

But Hal was remembering his mother’s words the night before.

“If he makes a puddle on the carpet he’s going into the garage and staying there.”

There was no time to lose in getting Fleck out of doors.

Getting dressed was not easy because Fleck had good ideas of how to “help” – putting Hal’s socks in interesting places and herding his shoes … but when Hal was ready he allowed him to slip on his collar and lead and followed him down the stairs like a model dog walking to heel.

Hal let himself out of the front door and down the drive. The garden, which wasn’t really a garden but a lot of raked gravel, stretched away to either side but they reached the road before Fleck lifted his leg. Opposite the house was a private garden belonging to the people in the street but there was a notice on the gate saying No Dogs or Unaccompanied Children.

But past the end of the road, where the houses were smaller and not so elegant, there was a park, open to everybody. His mother didn’t like taking him there; the children who played in it could be rough – but Fleck thought it looked good. He steamed ahead, looking back at Hal every so often, and then they were through the gates.

It was a very ordinary city park but Fleck behaved as though he was in paradise. He put his head down and sniffed the whole history of the dogs that had been there recently. He tried eating a tuft of grass and sneezed. He found a fascinating pile of raked leaves. And all the time his ears twitched with eagerness, and his face turned back to Hal, making sure that Hal too could smell the smells and feel the earth on his paws, and share.

Hal let the dog lead him – and because of that found himself face to face with a girl of about his own age with masses of fair hair and bright blue eyes. She was sitting on a bench reading and was the sort of pretty, self-assured girl that usually frightened Hal, but Fleck liked her immediately.

“He’s got a lot of breeds in him, I’d say?” she said, stroking his back, but Hal shook his head.

“He’s a Tottenham terrier,” he said.

“I’ve never heard of that,” she said. “It must be a new breed. He looks really intelligent. Why don’t you let him off the lead?”

“I’ve only just got him. I’m going to take him to dog training classes next week but I don’t know if he’d come back.”

“Of course he’d come back. He loves you.”

Hal looked at her. Her words made him feel ridiculously happy. He bent down and unclipped the lead. Fleck shook himself, then took off like a racing greyhound – and disappeared behind a clump of trees.

There was a moment of panic as Hal and the blonde girl looked at each other. Supposing he disappeared for ever? Then with as much speed as he had raced off, the little dog returned, a streak of white on his way home.