The Puppy That Came for Christmas by Megan Rix

Author:Megan Rix
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

13

“Meet Mr. Pup-Pup,” said Ian as he opened the front door, plonking something completely unrecognizable into my outstretched arms. A bright almost-white wriggling little furry fluffball, more like a miniature polar bear than a puppy, as different from Emma as could be.

“Hello,” I said. “Hello, little puppy.”

At eight weeks old he was a lot more boisterous than Emma had been when she first arrived. He twisted and turned from back to front, nibbled at my long hair and then licked my face.

“His Helper Dogs name is Freddy,” said Jamie, giving Ian a look.

“Mr. Pup-Pup,” Ian mouthed at me and I tried hard not to grin.

Jamie and Ian had been entertaining Mr. Pup-Pup for the past hour.

“Why didn’t you call me and let me know he was here?” I asked.

“Because we thought you’d be back at any minute.”

“I went to buy him some toys from the pet shop and I met Liz there.”

“How was she?” Jamie asked.

“Tearful.”

I might have been tearful too, but it was hard to laugh and cry at the same time, and Freddy, wriggling in my arms and yapping his tiny puppy-dog yap, was winning the battle.

I put him on the floor and he scampered around and then ran back to me.

“Has he come far?” He didn’t seem at all tired from his journey.

“No, Summer Road,” Jamie said. That explained his energy. Summer Road was only just over a mile away. “It’s the breeder’s first litter, and she got in touch to ask if we might be interested in taking one or two of them. There were two boys we thought looked promising for us, but this one was better at retrieving—although neither of them were all that enthusiastic. Little terrors, weren’t you?”

Jamie’s attention had been drawn back to the furball; it was difficult to keep your eyes off him—he was just too bouncy and cute. Jamie wriggled the toy rattler in front of Freddy, and Freddy pounced on it as if he was a kitten and shook it with delight.

“No good at doing what you were supposed to when I wanted you to,” he said to the dog, who was now growling and playing tug-of-war with the subdued snake. “But then that’s puppies for you. Anyway, he’s yours,” said Jamie, standing up decisively, dusting himself down and taking his leave.

I shut the front door as he retreated, while restraining the pup and making a mental note to ask Ian to get the stair guard out of the loft. Then I gave Freddy (or Mr. Pup-Pup, as Ian insisted on calling him) some of the food the breeder had been giving him along with a small amount of Helper Dogs’ puppy food. He scoffed it all up, and I took him outside to use the toilet area, but it was all too far and too much for him, and he’d weed on the lawn before he’d reached it.

After that, we went back inside, and fed, watered and tired out, he fell fast asleep on the rug.

“He looks so sweet,” I said.

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