“Mum, I’m ten years old now, right?” said Michael suddenly as he got back from school. “So what?” Mum stared at him in surprise. “What do you mean, so what? Have you forgotten what you and Dad promised I could do when I turned ten?” “Let you do what? What did we promise?” “You promised I could get a dog.” “No!” Mum exclaimed in alarm. “Anything but that! Would you rather have an electric scooter? The most expensive one. But only if you never mention a dog again.” “That’s how it is, then?” Michael pouted. “And you call yourselves parents… You tell me to keep my promises, but don’t keep yours…” Michael locked himself in his room and didn’t come out until Dad returned from work. “Dad, do you remember what you and Mum promised…” he began, but was interrupted. “Mum already called me about your wish! But I don’t understand why you even want this.” “Dad, I’ve dreamed of having a dog for such a long time! You know I have!” “We know, we know! You’ve read too many stories about little boys and their dogs—you’re acting like a child! You know pedigree dogs are expensive, don’t you?” “I don’t want a pedigree,” Michael blurted out. “I’d be happy with any dog—even a rescue. I read online about abandoned dogs. They’re so unlucky.” “No!” said Dad firmly. “What do you mean, not pedigree? Why would we want that? They’re not pretty! All right, here’s the deal: I’ll agree to adopt an abandoned dog, but only if it’s young and a pedigree.” “A pedigree?” Michael wrinkled his nose. “Yes!” Dad winked at Mum. “You’ll need to train her, enter her in dog shows and all that. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. So if you can find a beautiful, abandoned young pedigree dog in this town, we’ll consider it.” Michael sighed, knowing he’d never seen an abandoned pedigree on the streets, but hope is the last thing to die, so he decided to try. On Sunday, Michael called his friend Jack and after lunch, they began their search. By evening, they’d walked what felt like half the city, but still hadn’t spotted a single stray pedigree. Although there were plenty of lovely dogs out, all were with owners and on leads. “That’s it,” Michael said wearily. “I knew we wouldn’t find one…” “Let’s visit the shelter next Sunday,” Jack suggested. “They have pedigree dogs there, I’ve read about it. We just need the address. But for now, let’s sit down and rest.” They found an empty bench, chatted about finding the perfect dog at the shelter, and strolled home dreaming of training their new friend. Suddenly, Jack tugged Michael’s sleeve and pointed. “Look, Michael.” Michael glanced over and saw a tiny dirty-white stray puppy wobbling along the pavement. “A mongrel,” Jack said surely, and whistled. The puppy looked over and bounded towards them, but stopped two metres away. “He doesn’t trust people,” said Jack. “Someone must’ve scared him.” Michael whistled softly and stretched out a hand. The puppy crept forward and, when Michael got close, wagged his filthy tail rather hopefully instead of running away. “Come on, Michael,” Jack said nervously. “Why would you even want that dog? You’re looking for a pedigree. You could give a pedigree a fancy name. This one could only be called Button.” Jack turned away and walked quickly off. Michael patted the pup a bit more, then, sadly, started after his friend. Secretly, he would have loved to take the little dog home. Suddenly, there was a startled yelp behind him. Michael froze; the puppy whimpered, and Jack whispered, “Michael, come on! Don’t look back! He’s looking at you!” “How?” “Like you’re his owner—and you’re leaving him. Run!” Jack ran off, but Michael’s feet wouldn’t move. Finally, as he began to run, something tugged gently at his trouser leg. Michael glanced down and saw two trusting black eyes. Right then and there, Michael picked the little dog up and hugged him to his chest. He’d made up his mind—if Mum and Dad said no, he’d run away from home tonight—with this puppy in his arms. But it turned out his parents had kind hearts after all… The next day, when Michael got home from school, Mum, Dad, and a freshly-washed, snow-white, happy Button were all there to greet him. (TITLE:) “You Promised Me a Dog When I Turned Ten, Mum! — A Heartwarming Story of Promises, Friendships, and Finding the Perfect Four-Legged Friend”

Mum, I am ten already, arent I? piped up Michael as he returned from school, dropping his bag with an unnecessarily dramatic thud.

So you are, said his mother, giving him a look that suggested hed better not be angling for something expensive.

Well then? Michael pressed, eyes wide enough to swallow a biscuit whole. You havent forgotten what you and Dad promised I could do when I turned ten, have you?

Promised what? Mum asked, brow furrowing as if shed just tried to decipher Dads handwriting.

To get a dog! You said I could have a dog!

Oh no, absolutely not! Mum yelped, leaping up as if shed sat on a drawing pin. Anything but that. Ill buy you an electric scooter, the fanciest one in the shopprovided you never mention a dog again.

Michaels lower lip trembled, and he looked as betrayed as someone whod just discovered theres actually no such thing as bottomless chips at the pub. Is that how it is, then? Some parents you are. Youre always telling me to keep my promises, but you can just break yours, can you? Fine. Whatever.

With a dramatic flair that would win him awards on the West End, Michael stormed into his room and refused to come out until Dad got home from the office.

Dad, Michael said the minute the front door clicked, do you remember what you and Mum promised me

Your mother already rang, Dad interrupted, not even removing his coat. Why on earth are you set on a dog?

Dad, you know Ive always dreamt of having one! Ever since I read those stories about The Boy Next Door and his dog. You know!

Yes, yes. Filled your head with nonsense, those books. Just because we all have dreams doesnt mean we get them. Besides, you know purebred dogs cost a fortune. Thats, whathundreds of pounds?

I dont need a purebred! cried Michael, seizing his chance. Id take the scruffiest dog in England. Even one no one else wants. I read online about abandoned dogstheyre so lonely.

No! Dad shot down that idea quicker than you could say woof. Why on earth would we want a mongrel? Theyre hardly the picture of elegance. Look here, Michael, Ill tell you what. If you can find a beautiful, young, abandoned pedigree dog in this town, your mum and I will just about allow it. Provided you train it and show it at dog shows, mind.

Michael scrunched up his face. Seriously?

Absolutely, Dad said with a sly grin at Mum. A promise is a promise, right? So, if you find one that ticks all the boxes, well reconsider.

With the weight of British pessimism in his sigh, Michael trudged back to his room, knowing full well that pedigree strays in their neck of the woods were about as common as sunshine on a bank holiday. Still, he resolved to have a go.

That Sunday, Michael rang his mate, Charlie, and after lunch, the boys set out on their hunt.

They traipsed through nearly half of townover hills, down high streets, and round all the parksuntil their feet hurt and their trainers turned the colour of weak tea. They saw plenty of lovely dogs, but every last one was with its owner and on a lead, not a stray in sight.

Thats it, Michael groaned, flopping onto the nearest bench. Told you we wouldnt find anyone.

Lets go to the shelter next Sunday, Charlie suggested. Theyve got pedigree dogs there sometimes, honestread it online myself. First, though, lets get the address. Right now I just need to sit down, my legs are absolutely done.

They perched on a rusty bench, daydreaming aloud about finding the worlds most beautiful dog at the shelter, and how theyd train it together and come home with prize ribbons. Then, having sufficiently indulged in daydreams (and caught their breath), they started to amble back towards their block of flats.

Suddenly, Charlie tugged Michaels sleeve and pointed. Look, Mick.

Michael turned and spotted a pint-sized, dirt-smudged white puppy hobbling across the pavement like it had learned to walk by watching a documentary on penguins.

Definitely a mongrel, Charlie declared, and gave a low whistle.

At the sound, the puppy paused, tail giving a cautious wag, then tottered overonly to stop short a couple of feet away, staring at them with suspicion.

See? said Charlie, He doesnt trust people. Someones probably scared him half to death.

Michael gave a soft whistle of his own and reached out a hand. The puppy, after a moments hesitation, inched forward and, instead of bolting, wagged its tail nervously.

Come on, Michael, Charlie urged. Youre supposed to be finding a pedigree. If you take that one home, whatll you call itButton? Only name itd suit, really. With that, Charlie rolled his eyes, stuck his hands deep into his pockets, and strode off.

Michael patted the puppys muddy head, then sighed and shuffled to catch up with his friend. Though, truth be told, hed have happily taken even a Button home that very minute.

Suddenly, a pitiful yelp stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see the puppy looking at him, heartbreak painted across its little face.

Dont look back, Michael! Charlie whispered urgently, eyes wide. Hes looking at you like youre his owner and youre just leaving him.

He tried to walk on, but Michael couldnt move. It felt as if his Wellington boots were full of concrete. And then, just as he turned to leave, he felt a gentle tug at his trouser leg. Looking down, he met the puppys soulful, pleading eyes.

Right then, all plans, negotiations, and parental ultimatums melted away. Michael scooped the little dog into his arms and hugged it tight, mind already made up. Hed take Button homeno matter what Mum and Dad said. And should his parents say no, well, there was always his mates shed

But as it turned out, Michaels parents had hearts far softer than theyd let on. The next afternoon, when Michael trudged home from school, he was greeted not just by Mum and Dad, but by a freshly washed, white-as-snow, jolly little Button, wagging her tail as if she owned the place already.