FIONA HARRISON has been a freelance journalist, writing for a wealth of publications including the Sunday Mirror, Daily Express, Prima, Woman and Grazia for several years. Originally from Cornwall by way of Bath, this is her first novel. She lives in Berkshire with her husband and when she is not writing can usually be found devouring other people’s novels.
For Chris, the only human version of Percy I know
Contents
My eyelids felt heavy, and the pull of sleep prevented me from opening them, despite the early morning autumn sunshine streaming through the windows. Instead, I snuggled deeper into the blue cashmere blanket my owner Javier had bought for me. I screwed my eyes tight, happy to enjoy a few more minutes in bed with the blanket I loved, and wriggled around until I was comfortable. Yet no matter how hard I tried to return to the land of nod, something felt wrong.
Blinking my eyes open with renewed determination, I scrambled onto all four of my paws and looked around. With a start I realised the room I found myself in was completely unfamiliar. Where was the sofa I liked to nap on? The television I liked to watch Tom and Jerry on? The glass coffee table I always ran into, and the thick multicoloured rug I liked to roll around on? Why was I not at home?
My heart pounded with fear as I glanced over each of my shoulders to find I was alone in a small room, containing my bed and an old basket of toys, while on the other side stood an old easy chair. My food and water bowls were near the door and an old sheepskin rug lay on the floor. Hearing the sound of feet scuffling outside the room, I turned my head and peered through a large Perspex window that looked out onto a busy corridor and saw it was teeming with excited dogs and humans in green uniforms.
All too quickly, the memories flooded back as fast as a speeding greyhound and my entire body trembled as I realised I was as far away from home as it was possible to be. I remembered only too vividly that I had been dumped in a dog shelter by Javier but had no idea why. Was it because I had been bad? Did Javier no longer love me? Was I mean to another dog? Or worse, had I committed the ultimate dog sin and bitten a human for no apparent reason?
Filled with despair, I slumped back onto my bed, flung my paws over my eyes and tried to understand why Javier had left me here to rot like so many other good dogs before me. I knew the tails of the forgotten, which was what we in the dog community called dog shelters like this one, was for hounds that were unwanted. It was the home for waifs, strays and the unlovable. Was that me now? Was I unlovable? I had adored my owner Javier, and I thought he loved me too. We had been together for three years, since I was a small pup, and I had been incredibly happy. I thought he was too. What had happened to make him fall out of love with me? I let out a howl of despair. I would do anything to turn the clock back and undo whatever it was I had done to make Javier leave me in this place. I loved him, he was my owner, my entire world and, quite simply, I would