My Dog Doesn't Like Me (6 page)

Chapter Sixteen

When I got home today, I banged through the front flyscreen door, patted Ugly who had come to meet me, and then walked up the hall, through the family room, and into the kitchen. That's where I'll often find Grandad in the afternoon. He'll have finished his odd jobs and vegie gardening, and he'll be sipping a cuppa.

And that was where I found Grandad, but someone else was there, too, with their back turned to me. I couldn't see the face because the person was wearing a wide, battered straw hat.

‘There you are,' said Grandad as if he'd been looking for me and I was late. ‘I've a surprise visitor for you.'

The stranger swung around and stood up – a tall woman wearing baggy pants and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. She looked younger than Grandad, but not by heaps. Her hair was short and grey above a round face that was smooth and brown with rosy spots on each cheek; she was the only person I've ever met who had what Mum calls ‘apple cheeks'.

‘This'd be Eric, then,' said the woman, her blue eyes crinkling up as she smiled. She stepped up to me and held out her hand. I put my hand forward, and she gave me such a strong handshake that I had to hold my breath to keep from saying ‘ouch'.

‘Having a spot of dog bother, are we?' she asked.

Who was this woman? Why had Grandad been telling her my business?

I mumbled something like, ‘Maybe'.

Ugly was excited that we had a visitor and excited that I was home from school. He danced about for a minute and then jumped up on me.

‘Down!' said the big woman when Ugly jumped up. She was standing next to me, but she held her hand in front of Ugly's face like a traffic policeman and stepped close to him – what Gretchen would describe as invading Ugly's personal space.

‘Sit!' said the lady in a strong, low voice.

Ugly stepped back and sat.

‘Good boy. Good, Ugly,' said the lady, patting his head and slipping him what looked like a small bit of dog biscuit.

‘Meet Maggie Buchan,' said Grandad. ‘She's my old school friend Charlie Buchan's younger sister, and she's over from Western Australia to visit her granddaughter for a few weeks.'

‘Oh,' I said, wondering what the big deal was.

‘Maggie trains dogs,' Grandad added.

‘And dog owners,' said Maggie in a stern voice.

‘She's never failed,' said Grandad. ‘Maggie's my present to you. Concentrate and learn all you can about dog training.'

‘I hear today's Ugly's last chance,' said Maggie.

Hearing about my troubles from a stranger was embarrassing. What would she think about all this stuff about me giving Ugly three chances? From an outsider's view, I might look kind of crazy. Giving a dog a last chance? It seemed mean.

I stared down at my feet. ‘I s'pose.'

‘Nothing more frustrating and unpleasant than a disobedient dog,' said Maggie in a kind way.

She understood! I looked at her to check if she was kidding me. ‘And a dog that didn't like me until just recently,' I said.

‘Ah, yes,' said Maggie. ‘But you'll have to face something, Eric.'

‘Face what?' I asked.

‘
You
are the main part of the problem.'

‘Me?'

‘Yes, face the facts, Ec,' added Grandad.

How harsh can you get? Me? The problem? How dare she! Someone, okay – a dog – has shown for ages that he couldn't care less about me, and
I'm
to blame? And
face the facts?
What a tough thing for Grandad to say.

But I'm not a wuss. I've suffered great hardship: been forced to run away, had my Parthenon model chewed up, found stinky poo under my bed, been dragged into life-threatening situations on dog walks, been ignored and been laughed at. A person can only take so much. Maggie is just a bigger, older, fatter version of Gretchen.

Did I tell that to Maggie? No way. But she must have seen my face.

‘Stormy weather today?' she said, peering at me.

I think I might have inherited Gretchen's cranky-strawberry-mouth look. You can't talk well when your mouth is the shape of a squashed strawberry.

‘Dunno watcha mean,' I mumbled. I knew I was being rude to a visitor. I wouldn't have blamed Grandad for giving me what he calls a ‘clip over the ear', but he didn't do that.

He just said, ‘It's your last chance, lad. Listen up to Maggie or you're done for.'

Heck no. Everyone was getting it wrong. It was Ugly's last chance. When would grown-ups get it right? And I said that. ‘It's Ugly's last chance, not mine.'

Then came the shock of my life. I'm still shaky as I write this down.

Grandad said, ‘Well Eccle, it's actually both your last chances. You see, your mum is tired. I mean worn out with the long hours she has to do at work. She was telling me last night that although you have improved your work ethic, she still can't give Ugly what he needs. Gretchen's no help. Your dad is also run off his feet at work. That leaves you and me. And you know that since my hip operation I just can't do what I used to do. The poor mutt is neglected, and he's getting out of control. He's growing bigger than we expected him to be – a risk, I suppose, when we didn't get to see his parents – and big dogs need lots of exercise and plenty of discipline.'

‘But I've nearly always stuck to the timetable,' I said.

‘Not as often as you trick yourself into believing,' said Grandad. ‘Your mum is tired of finding half-filled cans of dog food lying around the kitchen benches, dog biscuits scattered on the floor, Ugly's water bowl empty, or precious belongings chewed to bits because Ugly is still getting bored from not enough exercise.'

‘I'm not as bad as all that,' I said. I held my breath, waiting for what he was going to say next. But at the same time, I sort of guessed. My heart was pounding. My hands were sweaty.

Grandad continued, ‘If things don't change, your mum, dad and I are thinking that Ugly might be better off with a family who know something about looking after and training big dogs.'

‘No!' I yelled. ‘You can't make Ugly an orphan. You can't just chuck him out. And I've been trying to help. You know I have, Grandad.'

Chapter Seventeen

I felt gutted. I had to fight for Ugly's right to stay in our home. I truly didn't know how I was going to save my dog. I felt like someone who was drowning because they were trying to rescue someone else who was drowning – hopeless.

After I had begged Grandad not to make Ugly an orphan, he took a while to reply. I guess he was choosing his words carefully.

‘You've certainly tried a bit harder to pull your weight with the feeding and walking and that, Ec. But it's not so simple. This is a small house. It's a squeeze fitting five humans into it, let alone a growing dog into the bargain.'

Pleading hadn't worked with Grandad. What shocked me was that he was for real. He really had been discussing Ugly's fate with Mum and Dad. The three of them had made big decisions about Ugly and me without my permission. I couldn't help it; my voice started wobbling like mad. ‘No, Grandad, no! I beg you! You can't do this.'

Ugly must have understood something. He started getting worked up. He was jumping around and barking. His tail whacked a cardboard box of Grandad's tomatoes that was sitting on a little side table. Tumble went the box. Sprawl went the tomatoes. Jump, jump, twirl went Ugly.
Squish
,
splat
went the tomatoes. It looked like blood and guts all over the kitchen floor.

‘See for yourself,' said Grandad, waving his hand around at the mess. ‘The proof is in the pudding. My best tomatoes of the season. Gone!'

Oh, cut out these idioms
, I thought to myself.

Yes, Grandad, your precious tomatoes are destroyed, but you can't say Ugly's accident proved what you're saying is right. This mess wasn't Ugly's fault! It's … it's everyone's fault.
This last bit, I said in a blurt, except I changed it a bit.

‘It's not Ugly's fault!' I yelled. ‘It's yours. And Mum and Dad's. And Gretchen's!'

‘Steady on now!' said Grandad in a loud voice. ‘You're blaming everyone but yourself. If you keep doing that, you'll never grow up. Show some character, Ec. Like I've said before: face up to yourself!'

Ugly got really worked up and started jumping on Grandad. Maggie took Ugly by the collar and put him out the back door.

She held her hands up, open-palmed towards Grandad and me, like the policewoman she must have once been; she looked as if she was in charge of crowd control at an AFL match. ‘Not in front of the dog, thank you. Set him an example.'

Grandad and I were both panting as if we'd just had a punch-up. I should have been worried about Grandad having a heart attack, but I wasn't thinking about that. I was actually thinking that maybe Ugly and I should run away – and do it properly. We have to stick together. It's amazing how many thoughts can zoom through your brain in a few seconds. Next thought was that we couldn't run away because I knew I didn't have enough money to feed Ugly. I had to think smart. Think clever. How do you do that?
For one, you don't make your grandfather any angrier.

‘Sit down, Grandad,' I said. ‘I'm sorry about the tomatoes. I'm sorry about saying nasty things about my family. I'll clean up the mess.'

Grandad plonked down in his chair, leant his elbows on the table, and put his head in his hands. He was still getting his breath. It came to me then that all this carry-on isn't good for an old man. This fight could kill him. I'd be a murderer.

‘Good boy,' said Maggie. She figured out where the kettle was and started getting Grandad a cuppa while I fetched the compost bin and a rag, as well as the mop, and began the disgusting job of cleaning the floor.

While I was working, Grandad, his head still in his hands, said quietly, ‘We're not trying to be cruel to you, mate. It's just that it's all too much.'

I didn't trust myself to say a lot. I had to save Ugly from a terrible fate. I had to control myself. ‘Sure, Grandad. What do I have to do?'

‘Over to you, Maggie,' said Grandad.

We all sat down at the table. I put my extra-polite, listening-carefully face on. Maggie explained that she was going to come three times a week for a few weeks to show me how to train a dog. Actually, the words she used were, ‘to train you how to teach your dog'.

The deal is I have to keep up Ugly's lessons before and after school, as well as on weekends. Maggie will give me a test just before she goes back to Western Australia. If I pass this test of hers, I get to keep Ugly and the two of us will go to Puppy School for a few months. She says this is run at the local vet's.

Of course I said ‘yes' to everything. And I do think it's a good thing to learn how to train your dog. I also agreed that I'm lucky to have an expert give me some lessons for free. But I really don't agree about the ‘or else Ugly goes' bit. That's totally unfair.

I didn't say that, though. I said, ‘Thank you, Maggie, I'll try my hardest.'

Maggie said the first lesson would start tomorrow after school. Then she said she had to go. I was glad of that, because I was finding it hard to look cheerful.

After Grandad and I waved Maggie goodbye, I took Ugly to the park. I sat on the swing, and Ugly sat opposite me and plonked his paw on my leg. He knew I was feeling down.

‘Thank you, Ugly,' I said. ‘I have to tell you some terrible news. They're sending you away if I can't train you properly. We have to stick together or we're done for.'

Ugly turned his head to the side, like old deaf people do when they want to use their good ear for listening carefully. That's what Ugly does when he's concentrating. His bright eyes looked straight at me from under his messy fringe. I know he understood because something amazing happened later.

I was sitting up in bed, reading my latest library novel. I'd pushed the bedroom door nearly shut. I like to be private, but I also like to hear what's going on around the house. About 8.30pm, something shoved at the door, and it moved a bit.

Was Gretchen spying?

No.

The door swung open a little further and Ugly walked in. He padded up to my bed, looked at me,
and then jumped right up. I put my arms around him
and we snuggled down. I was almost asleep when I wondered what Mum would think about a dog on my bed? I got out, went to the family room, and brought back Ugly's dog bed, which I put at the foot of my own bed. I gave Ugly a hug and then gently moved him off my bed and pointed to his bed. Ugly climbed on. I got back into my own bed and went to sleep. In the morning, when I saw Ugly still asleep in my room, I couldn't believe it. It was what I had dreamed of and hoped for when I first got a dog. Ugly definitely likes me, but is it all too late?

Chapter Eighteen

At recess today, I told Milly Dunn and Hugh Cravenforth all about my troubles and how I was going to have my first dog training lessons this afternoon.

Later on, Miss Jolly was cross with me because I was being fidgety.

Milly told Miss Jolly, ‘Eccle is facing an ordeal when he gets home.'

‘He's in deep trouble,' added Hugh.

Miss Jolly came over to me while the other kids were doing small group work. ‘Would you like to speak to me about this ordeal, Ec? It sounds like you have to go through something painful and dangerous.'

‘No-one can help really, ‘I said. ‘It's all up to me.'

‘Is this something scary and bad? You're not alone if you share a problem with a grown-up you can trust. A problem shared is a problem halved. Maybe I could help you?'

‘If you are an expert at dog training it might help,' I said.

‘Oh dear,' said Miss Jolly. ‘I only have a cat. They tend to train the humans. Anyway, I'm sure everything will turn out okay.'

Miss Jolly meant well. I knew she was checking to see if I was safe at home. But her ‘sure everything will turn out okay' was just washing her hands of the problem. The ‘washing hands' is another idiom, but there's too much on my mind to research this one.

Milly was more helpful. Just before the bell went, during pack-up time, she said, ‘Write down everything the dog lady tells you. Stick the list on the wall next to your bed so you can revise.'

Maggie was waiting for me when I got home. She'd brought a dog halter for Ugly.

‘This makes it easier to control a dog when it's on the leash,' she said.

Ugly, Maggie, and I went down the backyard for our first lesson. It was about heel, sit, stand, come, and watch me.

Ugly seemed to like his lessons most of the time, especially as Maggie told me to pat him, tell him he was a good dog, and then give him treats every time he got something right. He seemed to learn faster that way. A few times, he got bored and played up, but then Maggie told me to play a game with him. I'd chuck Ugly's ball or play tug-o'-war with his rope, then he'd concentrate again.

Maggie has a clever way of teaching a dog to heel. You just go a few steps and then reward the dog. Then you make him go a little bit further and reward him again. Maybe I'll be able to walk Ugly without having my arm yanked off. I also liked the way Maggie used hand movements with voice commands. She didn't even have to speak; she just used the hand movements to tell the dog what to do. I can think of heaps of times it'd be useful not to have to speak aloud when you're with your dog.

The dog training – or should I say ‘dog-owner training' – was interesting. But like waves dumping on a beach, it kept coming to me that if I didn't become a good trainer, I would lose Ugly.

I think Ugly understood how important it was to behave. His ears were sort of half down, in a sad kind of way. He kept looking at me all through the training session, as if to say, ‘I'm trying my best. Do you reckon we're winning? They're not going to send me back to the orphanage are they?'

Knowing the lesson was serious helped me concentrate, but it's not a nice way to learn. Even tonight, as I'm writing this in my bedroom, I keep looking at Ugly and my heart turns over. He's a lovely dog.

I asked Maggie for the dog training rules, and I scribbled them out using my own words. This is a neat copy here:

1. 1.
   Don't drag out the training; keep the lessons short and interesting (just like school should be).
   
2. 2.
   Swap lessons around in a different order each time, so that the dog doesn't start guessing what's going to happen (which means it's more interesting).
   
3. 3.
   Start off using yummy treats as rewards. When your dog has the hang of his lesson, only sometimes give a treat.
   
4. 4.
   Give your dog tons of praise when he obeys you, but don't make a big deal when the dog stuffs up. You want a happy obedient dog, not a scared obedient dog.
   
5. 5.
   Don't tell a dog off for getting things wrong.
   
6. 6.
   Never ever scare your dog.
   
7. 7.
   Don't physically punish or hurt a dog.
   
8. 8.
   You should be patient and kind during every training session. Never shout – that's just a human's way of barking.
   
9. 9.
   End a training time happily. Finish with something your dog does well and praise him heaps, and maybe reward him with a treat. He'll then think that training sessions are fun and look forward to the next one.
   
10. 10.
    A good way to make training fun and never boring is to break it up with playing and walks.
    

‘Good to see you taking this seriously,' said Maggie as I was writing.

‘I want to keep Ugly,' I said.

‘We'll see how you're going by the time I have to go back to Western Australia,' said Maggie. ‘He could be quite a handful if he's not properly trained soon. He's an active little fellow, and he's still growing. Imagine if your grandfather got knocked over and broke his other hip! You'll really need to be consistent with Ugly.'

I asked her what ‘consistent' meant.

‘Regular,' said Maggie.

So that's why I'm confused and sad tonight. Maggie could see I was trying today. And I know I'll keep my promise about being regular with Ugly's training, but that's just not good enough for the grown-ups around here.