Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
About the Book
Dog wasn’t really a dog, she was a human girl. But she was called Dog because that is what Uncle had always called her.
Dog has never been outside of nasty Uncle’s pet shop. She sleeps in a box on a floor and has no idea what the world outside looks like. Then in a flurry of colour and feathers, Carlos the parrot arrives in the shop and her world as she knows it changes for ever.
Managing to escape, Dog, Carlos and her best friend Esme the coati set out, in search of the same thing, somewhere they belong, somewhere they can call home. But the world is a huge, dangerous place, and they face danger and adventure at every turn …
A heart-warming tale of adventure, friendship and belonging by acclaimed author and animal expert, Nicola Davies.
For Eva and Libby,
and with thanks to VB and LW.
Chapter 1
DOG WASN’T REALLY a dog, she was a human girl, but she was called Dog because that is what Uncle had always called her.
Uncle had brought Dog to live in his pet shop so long ago that she didn’t remember anywhere else. She felt she had always lived amongst the cages of mice and hamsters, rabbits and budgies; eating the same food as they did and sleeping in the storeroom at the back of the shop, on an old pet bed.
It was Dog’s job to look after all the pets, and Uncle’s job to sit by the till eating sausages and reading the paper. When anyone came into the shop, Dog had to hide because if anyone saw her, anyone at all, Uncle said, she would be taken away.
“You’ll be put in a black, black box,” he told her, “and that will be the end of you!”
Uncle reminded her of this every day, opening the box he kept under the till so she could see the darkness inside, then slamming it shut so that the lock clicked; the sound made Dog shudder.
So, when customers came, Dog crouched on her bed, trembling; even when the shop was empty she kept away from the door and the windows, just in case. All she ever saw of the world outside was the weak sunlight that struggled through the dirty glass of the pet-shop window and fell on the floor between the sacks of Pussy Poo cat litter.
Uncle had a fat, angry face and a mouth that didn’t smile. Luckily he was very tall, so Dog hardly ever had to look further than his knees.
He had two moods: good and bad. When he was in a good mood, he ate sausages with his fingers, and pointed at the map above the till with a greasy finger and told Dog: “The blue part is the ocean and the green part is land. So don’t say I haven’t given you an educayshun. But you can’t say anything, can you, you dumb little mongrel!” And then he’d laugh, and bits of sausage would spray all over the shop.
Dog didn’t care that he laughed at her because she couldn’t speak; she was glad to be quiet, like Esme and the other animals, not full of shouty words like Uncle.
When he was in a bad mood, he stomped and raged, dented cages with his fists and split bags of bird seed with his kicks. Then he’d shout, “Dog, you good-for-nothing mongrel, get this cleaned up! NOW!”
But in spite of Uncle, Dog felt lucky. She didn’t have to live in a cage like the pets she cared for or watch her friends being sold as they did. Dog’s best friend was Esme the coati. Esme had a slender, inquisitive nose and a long stripy tail, with a short, cosy little body in between. She had lived at the shop for as long as Dog could remember and her fur was getting thin; there were even a few bald patches here and there. No one, Dog thought happily, would choose Esme instead of a baby bunny or a little mouse!
Esme was too clever to live in a cage, so she followed Dog everywhere, helping with the animals by checking that all their food tasted good. Her favourite thing (apart from fresh grapes and sliced banana) was sitting on Dog’s shoulders, with her tail wrapped around Dog’s neck. They shared sausage scraps when Uncle was in a good mood, and when he wasn’t, Esme hid her nose in Dog’s hair and breathed warmth onto her head.
Chapter 2
UNCLE’S BAD MOODS were happening more and more. They were keeping people out of the pet shop. Sometimes, whole days went by without Dog having to go to the storeroom so as not to be seen and taken away in a black, black box. The baby rabbits all grew up and some of the mice began to get quite old.
Late one winter afternoon, when Uncle had smashed an empty goldfish bowl in a temper because there had been no customers at all for three days, the bell over the shop door suddenly rang out. Just in time, Dog and Esme dived behind some sacks of cat litter, then peeped out through a gap. If Uncle sold something, it often changed his mood from bad to good.
However, instead of a customer, a skinny postman struggled over to the counter with a huge parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a spider’s web of coloured string.
“Delivery!” he said with a big smile, putting the parcel down on the counter in front of Uncle.
“Didn’t order nothing,” Uncle growled without looking up from his crisps.
The postman stopped smiling. “But it’s addressed to you from the Government Pest Disposal Unit,” he said, nervously reading the label. “It’s an official parcel.”
“Don’t care,” said Uncle. “I don’t want it.”
He flattened the crisp packet with a noise that made the postman jump. His face was bright, bright red.
Esme wound her tail round Dog’s arm for comfort; the last time Uncle’s face had been that colour, he’d smashed the budgie cage and cracked the mouse tank.
“I don’t care who sent it,” Uncle bellowed. “Take it away!”
The postman turned pale under his peaked cap. In a very small voice he said, “No!” and fled through the door, leaving the bell jumping wildly on its spring.
Dog and Esme stayed in their hiding place while Uncle stamped about the shop shouting, “Delivery! I’ll give you delivery! I didn’t order anything!” He pushed the parcel off the counter and gave it a good kick. But there was something very hard under the brown paper; Uncle yelped with pain and sat down.
“Dog!” he yelped. “Dog! Get out here.”
Uncle this angry was dangerous. Dog made Esme stay behind the sacks and slunk out to the front of the shop.
“Sort that parcel out!” Uncle screamed. Dog concentrated on the floor and got ready to dodge a kick. But suddenly Uncle’s anger went down like a soggy balloon. He limped over to the door and turned the sign to CLOSED. “I’m going upstairs,” he growled, “and I don’t want any disturbing. All right?”
Dog shut her eyes, and nodded hard. When she looked again, he’d gone. She heard his footsteps going up the stairs to the flat above the shop. A moment after that, the sound of the TV came through the floorboards. Esme came out from behind the sacks and pushed her nose into Dog’s hand: they knew that once Uncle had his telly on, they were all safe for the night.
Chapter 3
DOG WALKED ALL around the parcel and took a good look at it. There was a row of pictures of animals – an ant, a dog, a small bird and a snake, all of them with big red crosses through them. She didn’t need to be able to read the words beside the picture to understand what the “Government Pest Disposal Unit” was for. There would be something dead inside the box and she would have to sort it out, as Uncle had ordered. But not now, because this was her favourite part of the day and she didn’t want to spoil it with something dead.
With Uncle safely snoring in front of his TV, Dog could give all the animals a little freedom. She opened the cages, and slowly all the small prisoners came out into the faint light that shone in from the streetlamp. There was no hurrying or scurrying. Most of the animals didn’t even stray very far from their cage. The budgies did a few circuits, then perched on the counter in a row to preen and gossip. The mice and rats wandered about for a while, then settled down to groom their fur, or chew thoughtfully on a bit of saved supper. Nobody looked for a way to escape. For Dog, Esme and everyone else, it was just nice to be out of reach of Uncle’s bad temper for a while and enjoy a little peace and quiet.
Squuuuaaaawwwwkk! Squawk!
The loudest sound that Dog had ever heard was coming from the box! Whatever was in there was definitely not dead. All the animals froze in shock. At once, the TV upstairs fell silent and Uncle’s footsteps crossed the floor. If Uncle came down and found everyone out, free in the shop, Dog didn’t want to imagine what might happen.
Squuuuaaaawwwkkk! The sound came again, even louder than before. Tiny feet pattered and wings fluttered as all the animals fled towards their cages. Even with everyone back behind bars, Dog knew that Uncle would still be furious at being disturbed and she would be blamed, because she hadn’t “sorted out” the strange parcel.
Dog rushed over to the box. Whatever it was inside, it must be made to shut up. Frantically she ripped away the string and paper. The box had fallen so that the lid was at the side. Dog pulled at it, and Esme scrabbled at the edge, trying to lever it up with her long claws. From upstairs there were the unmistakable sounds of Uncle getting ready to come down! Then, suddenly, with a sigh and creak, the lid lifted and a cloud of sawdust spilled onto the pet-shop floor. In the middle of it, something was flailing about, making that terrible, terrible noise, louder still now without the box to muffle it.
Squuuuaaaawwwwkk! Squawk!
Desperate to make it shut up, Dog simply jumped on the whatever it was, pinning it to the floor. It gave one last Scrreeeeeeech! and was silent. Dog lay there with sawdust up her nose and in her eyes, listening. Footsteps came to the top of the stairs, then stopped. There was a pause that seemed to last for hours. All the animals held their breath … The footsteps retreated, the TV blared out again. They were safe!
The sawdust settled, and in the glimmer from beyond the pet-shop window, Dog could finally see what she had caught. A single furious eye stared up at her, and below that, a huge curved beak. Esme realized what it was at once and, with a contemptuous snuffle, wheezed off to bed. She didn’t like birds of any sort, especially not big ones, and this one was big. Very big. A huge parrot – a macaw, in fact, almost as long from beak to tail as Dog was tall. It had big feet, with sharp claws. What with those and the beak, Dog realized that it could have hurt her very badly, and yet it hadn’t.
The bird sneezed, and some sawdust fell off its body. In the dim light it was impossible to see what colour its feathers were, but it was plain that there weren’t many of them. There were patches of bare skin, just a few feathers in the tail, and the wings were so ragged that Dog doubted if the bird would be able to fly. No one, she thought disgustedly, had looked after this bird for a very, very long time!
The bird turned to look at her with both its eyes. It didn’t seem angry at all any more. It opened its beak, but this time it wasn’t a scream that came out but a much, much quieter and more surprising sound. “Hungry!” said the bird. “Very!”
Its voice wasn’t human – more like an un-oiled hinge – but it had clearly spoken. Dog had never heard of creatures speaking, and it startled her so much that she dropped the bird immediately. This proved that it definitely couldn’t fly, because it stayed sprawled on the floor in a tangle of wings.
“Ow, ow, ow,” it cried. “Hurted me!”
It lay there, flapping weakly and waving its legs in the air, then went quite still.
“Help!” it said rather sadly. “Help. Please.”