A Christmas Tail: A heart-warming Christmas romance

‘Good, good dogs,’ she panted. ‘Excellent dogs. Phew, thank God.’ She reached into her pocket and gave each dog a treat. They chewed them down and looked expectantly up at her, ready for another.

‘Having a bit of trouble, are we?’ Cat froze at the words which, while perfectly friendly, came in a voice that was not.

‘I’m fine, thanks, Mr Jasper.’ He was standing a few feet away, his arms folded across his short, rounded frame. He was smiling, and only his dark eyes and the tone of his voice betrayed what he thought of her and her dogs.

‘Did you know that over one hundred people a year are injured in accidents that can be directly attributed to dogs, within Fairhaven alone?’

Cat gritted her teeth. The dogs strained at their leads and Dior whimpered softly. ‘I didn’t, but I don’t really have time—’

‘Dog walkers are a menace,’Mr Jasper whispered, leaning in towards her, his features contorted like a gargoyle. ‘You can’t keep control of that many dogs. They’ll get loose and they’ll terrorize people. You are a menace, and I will put a stop to this.’

‘To what? To people earning a living, dogs getting exercise?’ Mr Jasper turned and strode quickly away. She called after him. ‘Are you going to stop people using the park altogether, so you can preserve it as some kind of natural relic?’ He didn’t turn, but picked up his pace.

‘OK,’ she said to her pack, ‘ignore him. Let’s try again. But I’d like you all to take a moment to consider how difficult this is for me, how I’m prepared to admit that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and that you can either hinder or help me. And we don’t want to give Mr Jasper any more ammunition, OK?’ They stayed where they were. ‘That’s it for now. One treat now, one at the end. Those are the rules. So…’ She waited. The dogs stayed still, apart from Disco, who was trying to destroy her left boot. ‘So…GO!’

The moment she said it, she realized it was a mistake.

Now she wasn’t walking, or even trotting, but was running to keep up with the dogs, the leads rubbing against her palms, wearing the skin sore. Chalky, his older bones not used to the pace, started whining. The Westies looked like summer clouds at her feet, Bertha like a small pony tearing out in front, and she couldn’t even see Disco. And then, like a flock of birds, their direction changed, and their barking got louder. They pulled her past the Pavilion café, and Cat thought she saw George staring at her, a tea towel in his hand, but she couldn’t be sure because she was focusing on not getting dragged behind the dogs like one of the tin cans on a wedding car.

They pulled her towards a clutch of trees at the edge of the park, and Cat saw the reason why. Was it possible for your heart to sink and beat out of your ribs at the same time? Cat thought it must be as she watched the grey, furry target bouncing across the grass like a Slinky, its tail a giant dandelion clock.

A squirrel.

Of all the bad luck in all the world, she had to find a squirrel on her first outing as a professional dog walker. ‘Come ON!’ She dug her heels into the grass, but they slid in the mud and she narrowly avoided ending up on her bum. ‘Come on, puppies, please!’

They’d reached the trees. The squirrel had hopped up the trunk of a large oak, so at least Cat could try to get her breath back while all the dogs – Bertha included – tried to climb up after it. Cat could feel the disapproving gaze of every other person in the park burning through her coat, tickling the back of her neck.

‘Please,’ she coaxed, ‘please stop. The squirrel won’t come down while you’re here, you can’t get up there and I promise you –I promise you –’ holding the leads in her left hand, her arm muscles burning, she managed to pull the bag of treats out of her coat pocket – ‘squirrel does not taste as nice as these.’ She shook the bag. The dogs didn’t notice.

Cat swallowed down a wave of despair.

‘Look, Disco! Chalky! Valentino, Bertha! Squirrel meat is tough, and it’s all gristle with no flavour at all. Treats are better than squirrel.’

‘Are you speaking from experience?’ a voice said. ‘I’d love to know when you’ve eaten squirrel.’

For a second Cat thought that Mr Jasper had followed her, but the voice was different and the strain on her arm disappeared as a hand gripped the leads, taking all the pressure. She risked turning her head, and found herself staring into the eyes of a man who, it seemed, had come to rescue her. Cat felt a jolt of recognition. She’d seen him and his dog before, had seen him watching her through the park railings the day she’d lost her job.

‘How else do you suppose I get them to stop trying to climb the tree?’ She should be grateful, but his flippancy when she was so flustered made her instantly defensive.

‘You think that they’re going to listen to your culinary advice?’

He was walking backwards, forcing her to move with him as the leads were still wrapped round her hand, and as he did so, the dogs, resisting at first, realized the game was up and turned away from their conquest. Disco bounded up to Cat’s rescuer and put her paws on his jeans. He let go of the leads and lifted Disco into his arms, just as his collie dog, tongue lolling, trotted up and sat at his feet.

Cat felt her annoyance rise. His dog didn’t try and antagonize Bertha or the Westies who, tired out by their chase, gave the new dog a cursory sniff and settled down on the grass. Here, they were sheltered by the trees, the rain still falling beyond their natural canopy.

‘What are you?’ Cat asked. ‘Some kind of dog whisperer?’

He laughed, and while Disco struggled in his arms, Cat had the opportunity to look at him up close. His black-brown hair was expertly dishevelled, just asking to be ruffled, and his leather jacket – the same one as before – was worn at the elbows. He had the beginnings of stubble and there was amusement in his dark eyes. Was that amusement aimed at her? She was sure he’d been watching her before, and now here he was again, stepping in to help her.

Her irritation was swiftly replaced by curiosity.

‘I’m Cat,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Thank you for…for that, back there. With the squirrel.’

‘No problem.’ He smiled at her and took her hand. ‘I’m Mark. And this –’ he nodded towards the collie – ‘is Chips. We’re new to the area.’

‘Chips?’

‘After Chips in Dawn of the Dead. The remake, obviously.’

‘You named your dog after a zombie? That’s not very kind. How long have you been in Fairview?’

Mark blinked at her and ran a hand over his jawline. It was quite pointy, quite determined, Cat thought, if jaws can be determined. ‘A few weeks. You’ve not seen it, then, Dawn of the Dead?’

Cat shook her head.

‘Chips is the dog, unsurprisingly, rather than a zombie. She’s a hero – she saves the main characters from certain death. I’m splitting my time between here and London – it’s lovely round here, very…peaceful.’

‘Are you training your dog to survive a zombie apocalypse? What happens to her when you’re in London?’

‘Chips wouldn’t need training, she’d know exactly what to do.’ He grinned at her with white, even teeth.

Cat decided his jawline wasn’t determined, it was smug, but he was a potential punter all the same. This was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she said. ‘I could always look after Chips for you when you’re back in London – feed her, take her for walks.’

‘That’s a very kind – and unexpected – offer. She’s fine with me – she can cope on her own for a few hours if I’m working. Do you always go around offering to look after strangers’ pets, or am I special?’

‘Oh, oh, no, I mean…’ Cat felt heat rush to her cheeks. ‘It’s what I do. I wasn’t just…offering.’ She shrugged.

‘Ah.’ Mark nodded. ‘So all these dogs aren’t yours, then?’ Disco was burrowing into the crook of his arm, her stumpy tail wagging as if her life depended on it.

‘No,’ Cat said. ‘I’m walking them.’

‘Sure it’s that way round?’

Cat gritted her teeth and gave him a tight smile. ‘This is just…I’m still working out the best combinations, the easiest way to run things. Big dogs and little dogs together are a bit of a handful.’

‘They are,’ he agreed. ‘I’m not sure Primrose Park knows what’s hit it. And who’s this little guy? Come out, buster.’ He lifted Disco up, and the puppy started licking his chin. ‘Hey.’ Mark laughed and put her on the ground.

‘She’s a girl. Disco,’ Cat said. Something flashed in her mind, making her do a double-take. She looked at Mark, but he was intent on the puppy and all the love she had to give. ‘And Chalky’s the older mini schnauzer and the Westies are Valentino, Coco and Dior. That’s Bertha.’ She pointed at the largest dog, who was staring out across the park, looking noble.

Mark pressed his lips together and looked at the ground.

‘I didn’t name them. God, I wish I’d never said anything now.’

‘It’s an impressive outing,’ Mark nodded, unable to hide his smirk. ‘And you’ve done well, considering.’

‘Considering?’ Cat shot back.

‘Considering how unruly they are.’