NEW DOGS IN THE VILLAGE by Wendy Lewis

Author:Wendy Lewis [Lewis, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mazard
Published: 2015-03-18T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Patch was sitting in the sunshine outside the village shop, the end of his lead tied to a ring in the wall, while Dad was inside the shop talking to some other villagers. He was quite happy to sit there by himself because it gave him time to think; when there were other dogs around he became easily distracted. He was just getting deeply into wondering why humans controlled dogs, when really dogs were so much more intelligent, and trying to catch the stray thought that had crossed his mind on the Agility evening, that maybe it was really the other way round and dogs controlled humans to make sure that they had a warm bed and a constant supply of food; when something white caught his eye.

A rather hairy white terrier of almost his own size and build was just cresting the brow of the hill into the village. The dog appeared to be alone, no human followed behind. This might not have been so unusual on the common but dogs didn’t normally walk alone on the roads in the traffic…not that there was any at the moment.

It trotted on towards the village green, saw Patch and slowing to a walk, came towards him, warily poised between greeting and battle depending on Patch’s reaction to him. Patch stayed sitting down in a very unthreatening manner. Then stood up for a bit of mutual sniffing.

‘You’re new here. Who are you?’ asked Patch, having established that he was not going to have to put up a show of aggression to defend himself.

‘My people call me Gregory. My mother called me Traveller. She said, ‘You will go far,’ and I have. Yesterday I got a lift in a car and went to Brighton. Turned out to be the wrong way but it was a very comfortable car, and they had biscuits.’

‘You’re lost,’ said Patch: ‘The dog warden was looking for you.’

‘What does lost mean, boy?’

‘You…er, don’t know where you live.’

‘Of course I know where I live. It’s over there,’ Gregory turned in the direction of Groffholm: ‘I can navigate my way back by the sun, the scent of the woods and the soil texture…if I want to…which I don’t. I’m on a quest, you see. I’m trying to return to Wales, to the land of my fathers.’

Patch was puzzled by the plural: ‘How many fathers do you have, then?’ His scant knowledge of reproduction suddenly called into question.

‘No, no boy, it’s an expression, means my homeland, where my roots, my ancestors, were. I’m a Sealyham you see…a Sealyham terrier.’

This was a new breed to Patch. At that moment Flash’s owner led his dog out of their garden gate and across the green, heading for the common. Gregory let out a series of the highest pitched barks Patch had ever heard. Even higher than Chico’s. He winced.

‘Oh, sorry, boy. I’ve got this very high pitched bark, something not quite right with my vocal cords. Down the vets they call me the Helium

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