The Puppy Present (Red Storybook) (5 page)

Poor puppy! He wasn’t a criminal.

“Why can’t we keep him until his owners come?” said James.

“I don’t think we could do that,” said Mum.

“Why couldn’t we?” said James.

“Well, because… we don’t know how long it would be! It could be days. Who would look after him?”

“I would look after him,” said James.

“You?” said Mum.

“I could! I could look after him!”

“He certainly seems like a very mature and
sensible young man,” said the cat lady.

Mum looked at James.

“
Are
you a mature and sensible young man?”

“I’ve held the baby!” said James.

“So you have,” said Mum. “You’ve held him very nicely. All right! We’ll take the puppy home and you can look after him. He’s your responsibility!”

“So this is it, is it?” said Dad. The shop had closed for the day and Dad had come through to the house for his tea. “This is the puppy?”

He looked at the small ginger heap lying on the hearth rug. A pair of anxious brown eyes looked back up at him. Slowly, not quite certainly, a tail gave a little wag.

“He’s saying hello to you!” said James.

“And how long is he going to be here?” said Dad.

“I told James,” said Mum, “that we’re only looking after him until his owners get in touch.”

“
I’m
looking after him,” said James.

“James is looking after him,” said Mum. “Because he’s a good sensible boy and he held
the baby for me.”

“And because I’m mature,” said James.

“And because he’s mature,” said Mum.

“I’m very glad to hear it.” Dad squatted down, to take a closer look at the puppy. “So we don’t know anything about the little chap? No name or address tag?”

“Nothing,” said Mum. “People are so irresponsible! But I’ve rung the police and given them the details.”

“What shall we call him?” James had knelt down, with Dad, beside the puppy. “He ought to have a name!”

“Well, but I expect he’s already got one,” said Mum. “I don’t think we should give him another. It might confuse him.”

“And remember,” said Dad, “he’s only going to be here for a short time. His owners could turn up any moment.”

“He’s got to have a name.” James said it stubbornly. “I’m going to call him Ginger, ’cos that’s what he is.”

The puppy didn’t seem in the least confused by being called Ginger. He thumped his tail and wriggled, as if he were used to it.

James lay down on the rug and put his arm round Ginger’s neck. “See, he’s licking me!”

“Just don’t get too attached to him,” warned Dad. “I’m not at all sure,” he added to James’s mum, “that this was a good idea.”

Ginger would have disagreed. Ginger couldn’t remember when he had last felt so secure and so loved. The little boy had spent all day stroking him and whispering to him.

“Poor puppy! It’s all right now, puppy! You’re safe now. I’ll look after you.”

Sunday came, and no one telephoned to say
that they were Ginger’s owner. Mum said that James could take Ginger into the garden and play with him, just for a short time.

“But be gentle with him! Remember, he’s been very badly bruised.”

James and Ginger had a gentle game of ball and then went for a gentle stroll round the garden.

“These are the flower beds,” said James. “We’re not supposed to play on those in case we break Mum’s flowers. This is the lawn.” He patted at the grass. “We can play on the lawn. We can play anywhere, really, except the flower beds. This is my tree that I climb. This is the garden shed. This is the bird table. And this,” said James, “is the compost heap.”

Ginger really liked the compost heap. He jumped on it and rolled on it and covered himself all over in delicious smells.

“For goodness’ sake!” said Mum, when James and Ginger came back indoors. “What
has
that dog been up to?”

Ginger immediately cringed. He thought James’s mum was going to beat him. He was so frightened that he made a little puddle on the kitchen floor.

“Mum! What’s the matter with him?” cried James.

“He’s terrified,” said Mum, “that’s what’s the matter with him.” And she knelt down and held out her hand and told Ginger that it was all right, she wasn’t cross with him. “I’m not going to hit you!”

“Mum never hits anyone,” said James. “Not even me,” he added.

“Yes, and there are times when James deserves it,” said Mum. “But not you, little chap!” She picked Ginger up and kissed him. “You haven’t done anything naughty.”

Ginger could hardly believe it. He had been out in the garden, he had walked on the grass, he had rolled in the lovely smelly heap, he had made a puddle on the floor – and no one had smacked him for it!

“Can I show him the baby?” said James. “He’d like to see the baby.”

Ginger had never met a baby before. He and the baby looked at each other. Ginger sniffed, cautiously. The baby gurgled and waved its starfish fingers.

“Nice doggy,” said James. “Nice baby!”

Next thing he knew, Ginger’s little pink tongue had gone snaking out and planted a wet doggy kiss on the baby’s hand.

James held his breath. Now what would the baby do?

The baby kicked up its legs and crowed with delight.

“He likes him!” said James. “The baby likes him!”

“That’s good,” said Mum. “Maybe when Alex is a bit older— ”

“He likes
Ginger
!” roared James.

“Now, James!” His mum wagged a finger at him. “You know what we agreed… just until his owners come.”

But maybe his owners never would? James crossed his fingers. Please,
please
, don’t let Ginger’s owners come!

Sunday was almost over. James had had his bedtime bath and been allowed back downstairs for a final cuddle with Ginger. He sat on the sofa with Ginger beside him. If Ginger had dared to get on the sofa at his other home, there would have been trouble. He would have been yanked off by the scruff of his neck and thrown squealing to the floor. But here, nobody seemed to mind. Nobody ever got cross with him, or shouted. Ginger hated it when people shouted. It usually meant that a kick or a blow would be coming his way.

He closed his eyes and gave a great sigh of contentment as he snuggled down next to James.

“I think he’s settled here, Mum,” said James. “Don’t you?”

And then, at eight o’clock…

“Telephone!” said Mum.

“I’ll get it.”

Dad left the room. He came back looking rather grave.

“James, I want you to be a big brave boy,” he said. “That was Ginger’s owners. They’ve been away for the weekend and they’ve just got back. They’re coming round to fetch him.”

James’s lower lip began to tremble.

“We did warn you,” said Dad.

A tear went plopping down James’s face.

“Darling, think of Ginger,” urged Mum. “They’re his people. He’ll be so happy to see them!”

But Ginger wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy at all. When the door opened and Maisie and her mum came in, he shrank close to James as if for protection.

“Ginger!” cried Maisie; but Ginger flattened his ears and wouldn’t go to her.

“That wretched animal!” said Maisie’s mum.
Ginger shivered. “Chewed through his rope and dug a hole right under the fence, if you please! Now I suppose we owe you a small fortune in vet’s fees.”

There was a pause.

“You’re not telling me,” said Mum, “that you went away and left him tied up all weekend?”

“Well, we couldn’t take him with us.” Maisie’s mum sounded quite aggressive about it. “My mother-in-law won’t have dogs in the house. He’d have been nothing but a nuisance. To be perfectly honest, we should never have got a dog in the first place. It was Maisie talked me into it. Goodness knows why! She never takes the thing out or exercises it.”

“I will, Mum! I promise!”

“That’s what you said before. We’d be far better off getting rid of it.”

“No!” Maisie stormed across the room. “He’s my dog! I want him!”

She snatched at Ginger by his ruff. Ginger
gave a terrified yelp.

“You stop that!” James rushed forward. “You stop doing that! You’ll hurt him!”

“He’s my dog,” said Maisie. “I’ll do what I like.”

“But you’re hurting him! You’re frightening him!” James was almost sobbing. “Mum! Stop her!”

Mum and Dad exchanged a quick glance. Then Mum stepped forward. Very firmly, she removed Ginger from Maisie’s grasp.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I really don’t think that anyone who goes away and leaves a young puppy tied up in a garden is fit to keep a dog. Do you?”

Maisie opened her mouth, but her mum got in first.

“If that’s the way you feel,” said Maisie’s mum, “then I suggest you keep him. Come along, Maisie.”

“But,
Mum
— ”

“I said, come along,” said her mum. “We’ll
get you something else, instead. A new pair of trainers, or something.”

“I’ll see you out,” said Dad.

When Dad came back, Ginger was curled up on James’s lap, on the sofa.

“Well! It looks as if we’ve got ourselves a dog after all,” said Mum.

“Can he be mine?” said James. “Just mine and nobody else’s? ’Cos I was the one who found him. And I’m grown up. I can look after him. The baby can’t. He’s too young. Isn’t he, Mum? The baby’s too young!”

“Far too young,” agreed Mum.

“I’m mature,” said James.

“You are. I think you’ve proved that.”

“However,” said Dad, “mature or not, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“Ginger’s, too,” said Mum.

“Go on,” said Dad. “Off you go!”

James stood up, holding Ginger in his arms.

“Can Ginger sleep with me?”

Mum and Dad spoke at the same time.

Mum said, “Yes, I suppose so, if you want.”

Dad said, “Certainly not!”

James beamed.

“Thanks, Mum!”

Dad threw up his hands.

“Why do I bother?”

“You let the baby sleep with you,” said James. “And that’s all Ginger is… just a baby.”

“Oh, get on with you!” said Dad. “It doesn’t seem to matter what I say, I’m always overruled.”

But he was only pretending to be cross. Even Ginger knew that.

“Go on, then,” said Mum. “I’ll come and tuck you both up.”

As Mum was leaving the bedroom, she suddenly stopped.

“By the way,” she said, “you never told me what you were doing, when you found Ginger. What did you go out of the garden for?”

“I was running away,” said James.

“Good heavens!” said Mum. “Were things as bad as that?”

“Yes, but they’re all right now,” said James. “Because I’ve got Ginger.”

James had Ginger and Ginger had James. And they were just as blissfully happy as a boy and his dog could be.