I couldnt abandon him, MumI just couldnt. Do you understand? I really couldnt.
Im fourteen now, and it feels like the whole world is against me. Or maybe they just dont bother trying to understand.
There goes that troublemaker again! muttered Aunt Gloria from No. 3, scurrying across the square when she saw me. Just his mother raising him, and look at the result!
Hands stuffed in the pockets of my battered jeans, I walked past, pretending not to hear. But, of course, I did.
Mum was working late. Again. On the kitchen table, her usual note: Chops in the fridge, heat them up. And silencealways silence.
Today was no different. I was on my way back from school, after another round of “serious discussion” with the teachers about my behaviour. As if I wasnt aware Id become the problem. I knew. What was I supposed to do about it?
Oi, lad! called out Uncle Victor from downstairs. Seen that lame dog about? Someone ought to chase him off.
I stopped, looking over.
Sure enough, there was a dog lying near the binsnot a puppy, but a grown-up, pretty big, rust-coloured with white patches. He lay still, tracking everyone with big, sad, intelligent eyes.
Someone really should get rid of him! Aunt Gloria piped up. Hes probably diseased!
I walked closer. The dog didnt move, just gave a weak wag of his tail. His back leg had a jagged wound, dried blood around it.
What are you waiting for? snapped Uncle Victor. Grab a stick and shoo him!
Something inside me snapped.
Dont you dare touch him! I blurted, standing between the dog and them. Hes done nothing wrong!
Well, I never, Uncle Victor shook his head. A right little defender, aren’t you?
And I will defend him! I knelt by the dog and slowly stretched out a hand. He sniffed my fingers and licked my palm, gentle as anything.
It was like something warm was swelling inside my chest. Someone was showing me kindness for the first time in ages.
Come on, mate, I whispered to him. Lets go home.
When I got home, I made a nest for him out of old coats in the corner of my bedroom. Mum was out until late, so no one to yell or chuck a filthy stray out.
That wound looked nasty. I jumped online, searching for guides about first aid for animals. The medical jargon was rough, but I forced myself to learn it, word for word.
Need to wash it with antiseptic, I muttered, rummaging through our first aid box. Then dab the edges with iodineslowly, so it doesnt hurt.
The dog lay quietly, trustingly letting me handle his leg. He looked at me with gratitude. No one had looked at me like that for a long time.
Whats your name then? I asked while tying the bandage. Youre pretty ginger. Gingerit suits you, doesn’t it?
He gave a small bark, almost like he agreed.
That evening, Mum got home. I braced myself for a row, but she just eyed Ginger and checked his bandaged leg.
You did this yourself? she asked, quiet.
Yeah. Learned online.
Howll you feed him?
Ill work something out.
She studied me for a long moment, then the dog who gently licked her hand.
Tomorrow well take him to the vet, she decided. Sort that leg out. Have you named him yet?
Ginger, I replied with a smile.
For the first time in months, the wall between us crumbled.
The next morning, I woke up an hour before usual. Ginger tried to stand, whimpering from pain.
Easy, mate, I soothed. Ill get you water and some food.
No dog food in the house. Gave him my last chop, soaked some bread in milk. Ginger wolfed it down, licking up every last crumb.
At school, for once, I didnt answer back at the teachers. My mind was somewhere elseGinger. Was he hurting? Lonely?
Youre different today, my form tutor remarked.
I just shrugged. If I talked, theyd just laugh.
I rushed home after school, ignoring glares from the neighbours. Ginger greeted me with a wag and a yelpcould stand on three legs now.
Fancy some fresh air, mate? I fashioned a lead from a bit of rope. Careful with that leg.
Out in the courtyard, something wild happened. Aunt Gloria nearly choked on her sunflower seeds when she saw us.
Hes brought that mutt home! Alfie, youve lost your mind!
Whats wrong with it? I replied. Im helping him get better. Hell be fine.
Really? the neighbour popped up. Who pays for medicine, Alfie? Stealing from your mum?
I balled my fists but kept cool. Ginger pressed against my leg, sensing the stress.
Im not stealing. Using my own. Been saving my breakfast money, I murmured.
Uncle Victor tutted. Son, you do realise youve taken on a living soul? Hes not a toy. He needs food, care, walks.
Every day now began with a walk. Ginger was recovering, trotting along, but still limping a bit. I taught him commandssit, give pawhour after hour, with all the patience in the world.
Sit! Good boy! Give me your paw! Thats it!
Neighbours kept watch from afar. Some shook their heads, others smiled. I only saw Gingers trusting eyes.
I changed. Not overnight, but slowly. Stopped mouthing off, started cleaning up at home, even my grades improved. Suddenly, I had a purpose. And that was just the start.
Three weeks later, my worst fear came true.
Walking Ginger home one evening, a pack of strays burst out from behind the garagesfive or six, wild-eyed and snarling in the dark. The leader, a hulking black dog, bared its teeth and advanced.
Ginger instinctively hid behind me. His leg was still wobbly, he couldnt run, and the pack sensed weakness.
Back off! I shouted, swinging the makeshift lead. Go away!
The pack wasnt backing down, encircling us. The black leader growled louder, preparing to pounce.
Alfie! shouted Aunt Gloria from her upstairs window. Run! Leave the dog and run!
Other neighbours appeared behind her, faces pale.
Dont try and be a hero, lad! Uncle Victor hollered. He cant run, hell get caught anyway!
I glanced at Ginger. He was shaking, but he didnt run. He pressed closer, ready to face whatever came with me.
The black dog leapt first. I shielded myself, but its jaws tore into my shoulder, right through my jacket.
But Ginger, bum leg and all, flung himself at the leader, clamping on its leg with all his strength.
All hell broke loose. I kicked and punched, shielding Ginger from snapping jaws. Took bites and scratchesbut didnt back down.
Oh, God, just look at this! wailed Aunt Gloria. Victor, do something!
Uncle Victor charged down with a stick, grabbing what he could.
Hold on, lad! he yelled. Im coming!
I was going under, overwhelmed, when I heard Mums voice.
Get out of here!
She dashed from the entrance, tipping a bucket of water onto the pack. The dogs scattered, snarling.
Victor, help! she shouted.
Uncle Victor and some other neighbours joined in, waving sticks. Realising they were outnumbered, the pack turned tail.
I lay on the pavement, hugging Ginger, both of us bleeding and shakingbut alive. In one piece.
Son, Mum knelt by me, checking our scratches, her face pale. You scared me so much.
I couldnt leave him, Mum, I whispered. You get it, dont you? I couldnt.
I understand, she said quietly.
Aunt Gloria came down, her face strange, as if seeing me for the first time.
You could have got yourself killed all for a dog.
Its not just a dog, Uncle Victor interrupted. Its for a mate. Know the difference, Gloria?
She nodded, silent, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Lets get inside, Mum said. Need to clean your woundsand Gingers too.
I struggled up and carried Ginger. He whimpered, but his tail thumpedglad I was there.
Wait, Uncle Victor said, stopping us. You off to the vet tomorrow?
Yeah.
Ill drive you. Ill pay for the check-uphes earned it, being such a brave dog.
I stared at him.
Thank you, Uncle Victor. But I can
No argument. You can pay me back when you earn. For now He clapped me on the shoulder. Were all proud of you, yeah?”
The neighbours nodded.
A month passed. Just another chilly October evening. I was coming back from the animal clinic, where I help out weekends as a volunteer now. Ginger ran alongsidehis leg much better, barely limping.
Alfie! called Aunt Gloria. Come here a sec!
I braced myself for a lecture, but she handed me a bag of dog food.
For Ginger, she said, embarrassed. Good stuff. Expensive. You look after him so well.
Thank you, Aunt Gloria, I said, genuinely. But honestly, weve got foodDr Anna at the clinic pays me now.
Take it anyway. Might need it later.
At home, Mum was making dinner. She smiled when I walked in.
Hows the clinic? Anna pleased with your work?
She says Ive got the right hands. Shows real patience. Im thinkingmaybe Ill be a vet one day.
And school?
Better. Even Mr Peterson praises me in physicssays Im more focused.
Mum nodded. This month Id changed so muchno more backchat, helping at home, even greeting the neighbours. Most of all, I had a goal. A dream.
You know, she said, Victors coming tomorrow. Wants to offer you another job. His mates got a kennel, needs an assistant.
I grinned.
Really? Can I bring Ginger?
I expect so. Hes nearly a working dog now.
That evening, I sat in the square with Ginger, teaching him a new commandguard. He concentrated, waiting for my next move, watching me with those loyal eyes.
Uncle Victor ambled over and sat beside me.
So youre going to the kennel tomorrow?
I am. With Ginger.
Better hit the sack early. Tough day ahead.
When he left, I stayed a bit longer. Ginger laid his head on my knees, sighing contentedly.
Wed found each other. And wed never be alone again.
