Puppy Power Read online

  For my cousin Liz, with thanks for all the Breeding Information

  Contents

  1 How to Get Nostalgic

  2 How to Come up with an Alternative Option

  3 How to Nearly Get Someone on Your Wavelength

  4 How to Get Puppy Power

  5 How to Know Your Pros and Cons

  6 How to Ask for Assistance

  7 How to Stop a Conversation in Its Tracks

  8 How to Sink into a Pit of Despair

  9 How to Have a Girls’ Night In

  10 How to Get Seriously Fed Up

  11 How to Choose Your Breeder

  12 How to Go into Planning Mode

  13 How to Cook a Dog’s Dinner

  14 How to Nearly Die from Anticipation

  15 How to Go Doolally with Excitement

  16 How to Have an Alternative Christmas

  17 How to Be Exhaustified

  18 How to Get Emotional

  19 How to Have the Best of Both Worlds

  20 How to Have the Happiest of Happy Endings

  How to Discover Your Puppy’s Personality

  Quite a lot of time has gone by since I last felt the need to write about me and my Perfect Pooch, Honey.

  Since becoming TRULY BONDED AS A PAIR through learning some mega-faberoony training tricks last summer, Honey and I had been getting along like a House on Fire, which means that we were even more the best of friends than we were before she learned how to behave beautifully.

  I have to say, it was becoming a Pup Idol that did it, in my opinion. After winning a prize for some totally fantabulous dancing, Honey’s brain seemed to suddenly click into understanding that if she did what I asked, life would be much better for All Concerned.

  In other words, if she stopped eating all the food in the fridge and my sister April’s flip-flops, not to mention her mobile phone and other personal ACCESSORIES, and if she stopped jumping up and running in crazy circles and generally behaving like a totally doolally nightmare, everyone would love her more.

  Even me.

  And I pretty much loved her one hundred and ten per cent to start with.

  In fact, over all, Honey had really calmed down these days. Even April had stopped calling her ‘that mutt’, and she actually sometimes stopped and stroked Honey or gave her a pat on the head. In fact, she even volunteered to walk Honey sometimes after work with her boyfriend, Nick (who was also Honey’s vet).

  It had all become quite nice and easy.

  ‘Do you know, Summer,’ Mum said, ‘I never thought I would say this, but Honey is so quiet these days that sometimes I almost forget she’s there.’

  Hmmm.

  When Mum said this, I felt quite a NOSTALGIC kind of feeling that sprang out of nowhere. This is a word my Bestest Friend Molly told me, which means that you realize that things that happened in the past were really rather nice, in other words you have a YEARNING for the way they were before.

  Honey had been such a cute little pupsicle, and now she was a big dog who was loving and adorable, but maybe just a teensy bit not as fun . . .

  In fact, the more I thought it over and pondered, the more I realized this: the actual Truth of the Matter was . . .

  Life as a dog owner had got a bit PREDICTABLE.

  I suppose my feelings of predictableness were not helped by the fact that I was by then in Year Five, which was quite a grown-up and serious place to be in the General Order of School Life. It seemed that the moment you went into Year Five, teachers decided you had to be given twice as much homework as a normal human being can reasonably be expected to cope with. I mean, I knew I was going to be in Double Figures in the summer term, in other words I would be ten, which is quite nice, as it meant April wouldn’t be able to get away with calling me her ‘Baby Sister’ any more. But why did this mean that I had to know the names of all the rivers in the United Kingdom and the dates that all the various Invaders decided to come and have boring battles all over the place? What earthly use was any of that information to the average ten-year-old? It would have been much more practical to my day-to-day life in the Real World if our teacher, Mrs Wotherspoon, would tell us how to get the most from the extremely MINUSCULE amount of pocket money that I received, or how to learn all the words to the High Street Musical songs so that I could audition to go on my favourite telly programme, Seeing Stars, and wouldn’t have to RELY on tiny amounts of pocket money in the first place.

  All this homework did not leave much time for SOCIALIZING – in other words, hanging out with Molly, or anyone else for that matter. Life was too serious.

  I was thinking about this after a particularly yawnsome day at school when Mum came home and said, ‘Get your coat. We’ve got to take Honey for her annual check-up, remember?’

  I had forgotten about this. Honey needed to have injections and a check-up with the vet once a year to make sure that her teeth were all right and that she didn’t have fleas and that her General Health and Well-Being was, er, generally healthy and well-beingish.

  When we arrived, there was a Din and Clamouring of a commotion coming from inside the waiting room that was worse than usual.

  Mum caught my eye as we walked in through the door and said, ‘What a racket!’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘Anyone would think that a plague of catastrophic proportions has flooded the region and made all the animals in the district as Sick As Parrots.’

  As it turned out, there really was a parrot in the waiting room! If he had been an actual sick parrot, I would have eaten my duffle coat there and then, but he seemed anything but ill. He was certainly making more of a Rumpus than a normally sick person or animal would do. He was talking very loudly, saying quite rude things about the people in the waiting room.

  ‘Look at the ears on that!’ he said, and I am sure he pointed his beak in the exact direction of a man with such huge ears you might think he was the BFG or something.

  Normally I would have found this all highly hilarious. But I was not in a mood of Hilarity. I was in a mood of utter Dullness.

  So was Honey.

  ‘Honey,’ I said to her, as she lay on the floor waiting patiently, ‘if you think sitting in the vets’ waiting room is boring, you should think yourself lucky you are not a girl in Year Five who has to add fractions and remember who Beowulf is.’

  ‘Who’s got a big nose then?’ yelled the parrot, pointing his beak this time at someone who looked like a clown on his day off who had forgotten to remove part of his outfit.

  ‘Don’t fancy your much!’ he squawked at a man who was sitting with a lady who was not the prettiest of feminine types, even if you were trying hard to be kind and think of something nice to say.

  Just as the man with big ears looked as though he was going to pick up the parrot’s cage and fling it against the wall of the waiting area, another man walked in and everyone, even the big-eared man, turned to look and said, ‘Ahhhhhh!’

  Honey looked up in a mildly interested manner, then plonked her head back on the floor again.

  The man had the tiniest, squidgiest, softest-looking bundle in his arms.

  ‘Look, Mum! Look!’ I hissed. But Mum was already looking, and the expression on her face was one that I had not seen since . . . well, since Honey had been a tiny, squidgy, soft-looking bundle.

  ‘It’s a puppy!’ Mum squeaked, rather unnecessarily, as we could all see that.

  ‘Oh, Mum – do you remember when Honey looked like that?’ I whispered.

  Mum nodded. Then she sighed. ‘It makes me feel quite emotional,’ she said.

  ‘Why’s that?’ I asked, carefully keeping my voice low. I hoped she wasn’t going to actually get all Emotional right there in a Public Place. On the scale of Mortifyingly Embarrassing Parental Moments, that would probably score at
least one million.

  It didn’t matter though. Everyone in the room was cooing over the puppy and the parrot was shrieking, ‘Hello! Hello! Look at me!’ the top of its squawky voice.

  ‘Well, Honey’s a big girl now. You’re ten – TEN! I can hardly believe it. And as for April ... I hardly see her these days, what with her job at the solicitors and all the time she spends with Nick. All my girls are growing up.’

  I did feel a bit sorry for Mum. She looked really quite sad. I put my arm around her and we both sat staring at the tiny puppy.

  Then Honey sat up and licked Mum’s hand. It was like she was hugging Mum too.

  And that is when I had my totally inspirationalist idea.

  ‘Hey, Mum – why don’t we get another puppy?’ I asked.

  Mum turned to look at me, her eyes wide and shiny, and I felt very proud of myself for coming up so mega-speedily with such a Stunningly Intelligent and Thoughtful Solution to Mum’s emotionalism.

  ‘A new puppy?’ she said. ‘I don’t think so, Summer Holly Love.’

  I was completely flabbergasted with Mum’s totally Underwhelming Reaction to my brilliant brainflash of an idea. My mouth hung open in amazement, but I didn’t have time to think of a Suitable Response, because Nick came out at that moment and called us in for Honey’s appointment.

  We followed him into his Consulting Room, which is where the vet Consults with the animals to see what is wrong with them. (Although how an actual human can talk with an actual animal is beyond me, unless he has developed the magical powers of someone who can understand animal languages like people in films and stories.)

  As we went in I muttered to Mum, ‘I don’t see what is such a terrible idea about having another dog.’

  Mum hissed, ‘Not now, Summer.’

  ‘What’s up?’ Nick asked. ‘Did I just hear you say something about getting another dog?’

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ said Mum, doing the fake smiley face she does to other grownups to cover up the fact that she’s annoyed.

  ‘We haven’t discussed it properly yet,’ I said, giving Mum a GLARY STARE.

  Nick smiled. ‘Oh, I see.’ He looked at Honey and ruffled her head. ‘One’s enough when it’s as beautiful as this little girl, isn’t it?’

  Honey closed her eyes and snuggled into Nick.

  Mum nodded most vigorously. ‘Absolutely. I mean, I know Honey can get a bit lonely sometimes when we’re out, but I just can’t face going through all that house training and the chewing and the accidents on the carpet for a second time . . .’

  I sighed heavily.

  Nick looked at me. ‘Your mum’s right, you know, Summer. Having two dogs is an even bigger responsibility than one. You know: double the mess, double the vets’ bills–’

  ‘OK!’ I butted in (a bit rudely, I know, but what was Nick doing, putting Mum off like this?). ‘But we’ve just seen the most gorgeous puppy in the waiting room and it made me so nostalgical, and even Mum said she was sad that her girls were growing up and not around so much, especially April because she’s been spending all her extra time with you–’

  ‘Summer!’ Mum almost growled at me, and looked a bit red in the face.

  What had I said now?

  Nick looked as if he’d gone a bit red too, for some bizarre reason. He bent down to stroke Honey. What was wrong in Grown-Upsville today? I thought in a bewildered fashion. They were obviously doing that thing where they can communicate on a different length of wave from younger people who are, as I had always known, much more normal than they are. So I ignored the red faces and said, ‘So shall we get on with the vaccinationing then?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Nick. ‘I’m just waiting for the nurse. So it’s a check-up today? There’s nothing specific I need to look out for?’

  ‘No, Honey’s doing really well – very healthy,’ I said proudly.

  ‘She certainly is a beautiful Lab,’ Nick said as he got up and went to get the vaccination medicine out of a white cupboard on the wall. ‘You know what? Maybe you should think about breeding from her. If you don’t want to get another dog, but you’re missing those early puppy days, it could be a lot of fun for everyone. Have you kept all the pedigree paperwork from when you first got her?’

  As he spoke a wave of rushing excitement was whooshing up from my heart to my head. ‘Wooo!’ I cried, jumping up and down and clapping my hands. ‘Puppies! What a fantastical idea!’ I flung my arms around Honey. ‘Who’s the mummy, Honey?’

  I looked at Mum with my cutest pleading expression and said, ‘Pur-leeeese, Mum? Can Honey have puppies?’

  Mum was frowning and chewing her lip. ‘Hmmm,’ she said.

  Nick looked as if he realized he had just put his foot in something unfortunate and he started babbling. ‘Listen, I didn’t mean to stir up trouble, Angela,’ he said to my mum (because that is her actual name, and he can’t exactly call her Mrs Love when he is a fully grown-up person and so is she). ‘It just suddenly occurred to me that we haven’t had a conversation about Honey’s fertility recently, and we probably should, because if you don’t want to breed from her you really should get her spayed while she’s still young.’

  I was standing in between them, feeling a bit OVERWHELMED WITH BAFFLEMENT at all the medical-ish type words that Nick was using. I made a mental reminder to look them all up in my book Love Me, Love My Dog, which is about all things dog-related and is very informative for when you don’t know something about your pooch. Nick was babbling really quite fast now, using lots of difficult words, and Mum’s face was going from frowning not-suredness through to shockedness and puzzledness. My hands started going a bit damp from nerves.

  Just as I thought Mum might say, Tm beginning to wish I had not said yes to having a dog at all!’ or something equally distressing, the door to the Consulting Room opened.

  ‘Hello, Nick. Do you need me now? Heeheeheehee!’

  ‘Yes, er, thank you, Felicity,’ Nick said, his face going even redder than before. ‘Angela, Summer, this is our new veterinary nurse -Felicity Shufflebottom.’

  SHUFFLEBOTTOM? SHUFFLE followed by BOTTOM? All in the same name? Was there really a name of such comedical proportions? It made being called Summer Love seem positively boring and run-off-the-hill in its normality. No wonder Nick was red in the face!

  The Bottom Shuffler giggled in a way that reminded me of April. I suppose she was embarrassed about her name. She tossed her head around like April too, and I noticed that her blonde hair was tied back in a long swishy pony tail. This was probably to stop it getting covered in blood and medicine and stuff while she was working.

  ‘Are you ready to do the vaccinations, Nick?’ she asked, blinking a lot as if she had something in her eye.

  Nick muttered, ‘Yes, Felicity. Would you please hold on to Honey here and distract her while I inject her?’

  Honestly, I thought, is that all she’s here for? I could have done that. You don’t exactly need a Universal Degree in Veterinary-Type Nursing to give a dog a few cuddles.

  Nick was as careful as always when he stuck the needle in, but Honey still felt it and she tried to whip round and nip him. However, the Bottom Shuffler obviously had a Grip of Iron, because Honey could not get free. (Maybe you do need a Universal Degree after all, so that you can disguise your Grip of Iron ii normal cuddle-type situation.)

  I was glad that I had got over my unfortunate habit of fainting whenever I saw needles, as I would not have wanted the Bottom Shuffler to try to catch me with her Grip of Iron. I was getting a distinctively strong whiff of her perfume, which was in the Category of overwhelmingness and not a perfume I wanted to get any closer to, thank you very much.

  Mum looked very impressed. ‘You certainly know how to handle Honey,’ she said to the Bottom Shuffler.

  ‘Oh, it’s all down to having such a good teacher,’ she replied, and blinked hard at Nick again.

  I wondered if I should offer her a hanky or get some water to help her sort out her eyes. They were quite obvio
usly causing her a lot of botheration.

  ‘Yes, well, thank you, Felicity,’ said Nick. ‘You can go now.’

  ‘She’s quite a character,’ said Mum, smirking, as the nurse shuffled her bottom out of the room.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Nick, raising his eyebrows. Then he changed the subject (thank the high heavens, as it was hardly a very interesting one) and went back to talking about my pooch. ‘Well, that’s Honey done for today. I’ve noted everything in her health record book. And, er, do have a bit of a think about what you want to do with her as regards breeding, won’t you, Angela? I don’t know if it would make any difference, but I would be keen to help out if you did decide to . . .’ He trailed off.

  Mum was frowning again. ‘Thank you, Nick. We’ll think about it.’

  I didn’t like the sound of that last bit. It was what Mum said when she was actually saying something quite different inside her own head.

  In other words, a Big Fat NO.

  Once we got home Honey bounded out into the garden to chase leaves. I didn’t blame her. I would have done too, if I’d had a morning of being poked by needles while being held in a Grip of Iron.

  Mum put the kettle on and then she fixed me with a very serious face and said, ‘Summer, I think we need to talk about this puppy idea.’

  ‘Faberoony–’ I started.

  But Mum held up a hand and shook her head. ‘No, Summer, what I was going to say was, please don’t get your hopes up.’

  April came in at that moment, which was probably a good thing as it stopped me from stamping my foot and putting on a very SCOWLY face, which is what I felt like doing, but which is never a particularly Effective Way of getting Mum to come round to my way of thinking, I have found.

  ‘You two look serious. What’s up?’ April asked.