The Scruffy Puppy

Chapter One

Bella couldn’t help doing a sort of hopping little dance as they went up the steps at the front of the animal shelter. She was just too excited to walk sensibly. She had been waiting so long for this day. It had been weeks and weeks since Mum and Dad had first started talking seriously about getting a dog, and before that Bella
had been trying to persuade them for
years
.

Still, they were really here, walking into Redlands Animal Shelter to find a dog who could be their very own.

“What sort of dog do you think we’ll get?” she asked suddenly, turning round on the top step, and looking at her mum and dad, and Tom, her older brother. They were all following behind as she had run ahead of them from the car. Bella had wanted to ask this question – and lots of others – ever since Mum had told them about the trip to the animal shelter earlier in the week. But she hadn’t quite dared. What if they couldn’t decide on a favourite breed and gave up on the whole idea? Even now, she glanced
anxiously from Mum to Dad to Tom, wondering what they would say. She’d been thinking about it a lot herself – trying to decide what her absolute favourite, best, loveliest kind of dog would be.

She hadn’t thought about much else for weeks, actually. Her friend Megan had started to roll her eyes every time Bella mentioned dogs at school, or suggested going to the library to look at dog books again. And Mr Peters, their teacher, had told Bella off for daydreaming at least three times. On the other hand, he had given her a star and two house points for her poem about dogs. So it sort of evened out.

But even after all that, Bella still hadn’t decided what her top dog actually was. She knew they were getting their dog from the shelter because buying a dog from a breeder would be very expensive, and Mum and Dad really wanted to give a home to a dog who didn’t have one, as well.
So in a way, it was good that she hadn’t set her heart on one particular breed, because the chances of that exact breed being at the shelter were probably small. Still, wasn’t it a bit strange that she couldn’t decide what her favourite dog really was, when she could choose from any that she liked? She knew what the problem was – it was just that she liked them
all
…

“If there was every sort of dog at the shelter, what would your favourite be?” she asked her mum. “I know it won’t be there,” she added hurriedly. “I’m just interested.”

Mum smiled at her. “I’d been wondering when you’d ask that. I was a bit surprised that you hadn’t been on the computer, looking at dog websites
and working out exactly what sort of dog you’d like.”

Bella gave her a little embarrassed smile. “That’s just what I have been doing!” she admitted. “But I can’t decide!”

Mum ruffled Bella’s hair as she opened the door to the shelter’s reception area. “If I could have any dog in the world, I’d like something quite little and cute. Maybe a dachshund.”

“Is that a sausage dog?” Tom asked suspiciously. “I don’t want a sausage dog. My mates would laugh. Something big would be cool.” He grinned. “I really like those big hairy things.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Great description. Which big hairy things?”

“You know. The ones in the paint ads.”

“Oh! An Old English Sheepdog!”
Bella nodded excitedly. “They’re gorgeous.”

“Sorry, you two.” Dad shook his head at Bella and Tom. “I shouldn’t think there’ll be an Old English Sheepdog here, or even a dachshund. I should think most of the dogs will be strays. Mixed breeds, probably.”

Bella nodded. Mum was over by the reception desk now, explaining that they’d like to look at dogs for adoption. Bella was so happy, she couldn’t keep still. She had to keep talking, or she might burst with excitement. “What sort of dog would you like, Dad?”

“Mmm.” Dad frowned. “I fancy something quite big. I like the idea of taking a dog when I go running.”

Tom snorted. “So, a greyhound then.”

Their dad was really tall and he liked to go on long runs. He had entered the marathon before – they’d all gone up to London to watch him.

Bella shook her head. “I don’t know about a greyhound, Dad. I’m not sure they could keep up with you. They’re more about going super-fast, but only for a short time. And anyway, if there was a greyhound here, it might be an ex-racing dog.” She frowned, and
stood still for a minute. “And they’re really sad. The owners just dump them when they can’t race any more, and they’ve never had a proper home, or been looked after. They’ve all got terrible teeth, because the owners never took real care of them. I read about one who had to have all his teeth taken out.”

Dad sighed. “I think quite a few of the dogs here might have sad stories, Bella. We just have to think that at least we’re going to give one of them a home.” He put an arm round her shoulders. “So, what do you think? Great, big, hairy dog? Tiny little fluffy thing?”

Bella sighed.

“I just don’t know! I keep trying to imagine myself with different sorts of dog, but I like all of them…” She smiled up at her dad. “When we see
them for real, it’ll be different, won’t it? We’ll know which is the perfect dog for us. I’m sure we will.”

“How are we ever going to choose?” Bella said helplessly. There were so many dogs, and most of them were really excited to see visitors. They
jumped up from their beds, and hurried over to the wire netting in the front of the pens, scrabbling madly, and begging to be stroked, loved, taken home. There were just a few who didn’t bother getting up, and Bella thought that they were even sadder. Those dogs must have been at the shelter so long that they knew it was no use. No one was ever going to want them. Their hopeless eyes made her want to cry.

The worst thing was that she could see that her family couldn’t take them, either. They were mostly elderly, and didn’t look like they’d want to go for runs with Dad, or play around in the garden with her and Tom. But she wished she could be the one to make them happy.

“Are you OK?” One of the centre staff stopped next to her, smiling. She had a badge on that said “Jo – Manager”.

Bella gulped. “Yes. I suppose. It’s just so sad. Some of the dogs look like they’ve given up.”

Jo sighed. “I know. But it’s not completely hopeless, you know. We do find almost all of them homes in the end, even though it can take a long time. Elderly dogs can be great, gentle pets.” She smiled at Bella. “I should think you and your family would like
something a bit bouncier, though.”

“Yes, please.” Bella nodded. “I don’t really mind about what breed or anything. I just want to have a dog of our own.”

Jo looked at her thoughtfully. “Did you see Sid?”

Bella frowned. “I don’t think so. Is he up there somewhere?” She pointed further down the line of pens, where her dad and Tom were crouched down looking in at a big Boxer, who was barking as if he would burst with excitement.

“No, no, you’ve gone past him. Here.” Jo led Bella back a couple of pens, and stopped so she could peer in.

The basket was in the corner of the pen, and all Bella could see was a fuzzy brown and white back.

Jo chuckled. “He could sleep for
England, this one. But when he’s awake, he’s a cutie. Well…” she paused. “He
is
cute. But he’s not exactly the
best-looking
dog in the world. I have to admit, most people pass him over. But I think he’s lovely. I’d take him home myself if I didn’t have four cats already.”

“Has he been here for ages?” Bella asked, crouching down to look at the brown and white furry lump in the basket.

“About, um, four months.” Jo sighed. “He’s starting to give up, which is so sad. I think he sleeps so much because he really hates being here. He’s lovely and affectionate with the staff, but he wants space to run in. A bit of time in the exercise yard just isn’t enough.”

“My dad really wants a dog who could go running with him,” Bella said hopefully. “And my mum just wants a
dog who isn’t too massive. Sid doesn’t look that big. Is he?” She wrapped her fingers round the wire, staring in, and wishing Sid would wake up. The fuzzy white back twitched and wriggled a bit.

“No, he’s some sort of terrier cross. Medium-sized, but with longish legs. And even though he’s still very young, I don’t think he’ll get much bigger.”

“You mean he’s a puppy?” Bella asked excitedly. She hadn’t expected they’d be able to get a young dog. Mum and Dad had explained that most of the dogs at the shelter would already have had one owner.

Jo smiled. “Well, let’s just say he’s a teenager.”

“Oh, I wish he’d wake up and come and see me,” Bella sighed.