Sunshine and Spaniels

‘She loves you,’ someone laughed. ‘Though God knows why.’

‘This dog is harassing me!’ Alison moved further back and Chips followed, her tongue lolling out. She lifted her paw and looked up at Alison expectantly. Alison, her cheeks red, turned and pushed through the laughing crowd. Mr Jasper followed her, their placard discarded. Chips lay on the grass and rested her nose on her paws.

‘What was that all about?’ Polly was drying off quickly in the sun, her blonde hair forming wispy tendrils around her face. ‘I didn’t know Alison could be so cruel.’

‘I took Elsie’s puppy into her nursery,’ Cat shrugged. ‘She obviously holds grudges. But I’m so sorry, Joe, about your—’ She turned but he was no longer next to her. ‘Joe?’

Polly pointed to where Joe was crouched in front of Chips, laughing and rubbing her ears. ‘Good dog,’ he said. ‘What a clever dog.’

‘Oh my God,’ Cat whispered, ‘why is he doing that?’

Polly shrugged.

‘He’s not a dog person.’

‘I never said he wasn’t—’

‘He won’t let me have them in the house. Joe?’

Joe’s shoulders tensed and he stood up quickly, flashed them a quick smile and disappeared into the café.

Cat shook her head, feeling a mixture of confusion and relief. Maybe she was right, and that by coming into contact with so many dogs, he was slowly realizing how lovable they were. But he’d seemed so easy, so comfortable with Chips. ‘I don’t understand your brother, Polly. Either there’s something I’m not getting or that kiss with Jessica turned him into some kind of dog-loving wonder boy, like a modern-day princess kissing a toad.’

Polly put her hand on Cat’s shoulder. ‘Joe’s not a toad. It’s summer, and he loves summer. The whole Rosalin-and-Alex thing is further in the past, and I think his business is doing OK, despite losing Alison’s custom just now.’

‘But Chips is a dog.’

‘Yes, I know. Look, Cat, there’s something I haven’t—’

‘Joe hates dogs.’

Polly was looking in the direction of the café, chewing her lip. ‘It’s not that simple,’ she said. ‘Joe’s had a hard time of it, and maybe he’s realized he was an arse when you first moved in. He’s trying to make it up to you.’

Cat nodded. ‘He’s helped me with Twitter, he’s given me great advice, thought of the whole Pooches’ Picnic idea. He’s been really helpful, actually.’ Polly laughed. ‘No need to sound so surprised. He’s trying hard, and whatever impression he’s given you, he doesn’t hate dogs. He’s giving credit where credit’s due.’ She pointed at Chips.

Cat waggled her fingers and the Border collie raced up to her. She pulled a few treats out of her bag. ‘That, Chips, was brilliant. Maybe some of Mark’s cheekiness has rubbed off on you after all?’ Chips gave a single, cheery bark. ‘Do you miss him?’ she asked. Chips pressed her damp nose against Cat’s leg. ‘Yeah, I do too. Come on, let’s see if anyone still wants to talk about dog walking, or if they’re all convinced I’m completely incompetent. Coming, Pol?’

They made their way across the grass, saying hello to the few people who remained. Most had drifted off after Mr Jasper’s intervention, whether embarrassed to stay, or just seeing it as the perfect time for lunch. The sun was high in the sky, baking down on them all. Cat thought the dogs could do with going inside and cooling off. Maybe they’d all be happy to have a bucket of water thrown over them.

She could see Captain and his perky-eared papillon, Paris, on the veranda of the Pavilion café, talking to the owner George. And she could see Joe through the glass, helping to clear up. Cat really had to thank him for all he’d done. She’d found herself doing that quite a bit lately, and was starting to think she would have to change her opinion of him as a grumpy sod. She let Chips go ahead of her, but a dog started barking behind them and, intrigued, Chips changed course.

‘Chips,’ Cat called, ‘come on, let’s go inside.’ But the Border collie was intent on her new pursuit.

A small sandy-haired dog was haring across the grass towards Chips, running as fast as its tiny legs could carry it. At the last minute it jumped, its floppy ears flying, and came to an untidy halt next to the collie.

It continued to make a high, squeaking noise like a broken bicycle horn, and started running backwards and forwards. A classic Zoomie dog, Cat thought.

She approached the puppy, cautiously at first and then, when it seemed intent on tiring itself out, she pulled it into her arms, lifted it up and stroked its head, calming it. It was a cocker spaniel, and Cat thought it could only be about six months old. She turned its collar around and found a heart-shaped name tag. Olaf, it said, followed by a phone number.

Cat scanned the park. It was still busy, the grass dotted with groups kicking footballs and having picnics, but Cat could see no one who looked frantic, as if they’d lost someone important. Olaf. That name was familiar, and not just because it belonged to a snowman she’d heard about non-stop at the nursery. The nursery – that was it! She remembered Alison telling Emma to say goodbye to her dog; the little girl fighting back tears.

‘Where’s Emma?’ she asked Olaf, who was shivering, depleted of exertion and confidence. ‘Where’s your family?’

‘I think you might be looking for these two?’ It was Joe, ushering a couple of young girls towards her.

‘Olaf!’ the older one squealed. They were both crying loudly, and looked ragged despite their bright sundresses and sandals.

‘Is he yours?’ Cat held the puppy out to the older girl. She recognized four-year-old Emma, and there was something familiar about her sister too, despite her being too old to attend nursery. ‘Hey,’ she said gently, ‘there’s no need to cry. He’s had an adventure and now he’s tired, but he’s fine.’

‘And you did well to keep up with him,’ Joe added. ‘I saw how fast he was going. Maybe you two need to think about careers in athletics.’

The older girl started to sniff, restraining her tears, and reached out to take her pet. She cuddled him against her, and Olaf nuzzled her cheek. Cat thought she was probably about ten or eleven, skinny, with long, flyaway mousy hair and freckles. Emma was still sobbing, one hand gripping onto her sister’s dress.

‘You’re Emma, aren’t you?’ Cat asked.

The little girl nodded through her tears.

‘I’m Cat, from the nursery. Do you remember me?’

Again she nodded, then gulped and wiped her eyes with her hands. ‘Alison made you leave because you were too funny.’

Cat tried to hide her grin, which wasn’t easy when Joe was rolling his eyes.

‘Alison and I weren’t always best friends, Emma, but I loved all of you, and I miss you.’

‘We miss you too,’ Emma said. ‘And your puppy.’

‘But you’ve got one of your own. Olaf. Is this your sister?’

The older girl gave her a small smile. ‘I’m Lizzie. I’m ten.’

‘Nice to meet you, Lizzie. I’m Cat, and this is Joe. Were you bringing Olaf to the park?’

They both nodded, Lizzie’s eyes cast down to the ground. ‘Mum said could we take him out, because she’s busy with Henry. That’s our brother.’

‘He’s only ten months,’ Emma added, ‘and a handful.’

‘Shhh,’ hissed Lizzie. ‘Mum said not to say.’

‘Your mum told you not to say anything?’

‘About how stressed she is,’ Lizzie blurted, then gasped, her eyes filling up with tears again.

’That’s OK,’ Cat said reassuringly. ‘I won’t say anything. Do you want me to come with you and explain about Olaf to your mum?’

Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, it’s OK. We can take him back. Mum doesn’t need to know he got off the lead.’

‘You took him off!’ Emma squealed.