The lads used to poke fun at the limping dog. But she certainly gave them a shock one day…
She was simply called Daisy. Never mind that she bore no resemblance to any fancy breedshe was pure street mutt, the sort youd see basking in the sun outside a block of council flats, instantly recognising every resident by scent alone.
Only, Daisy had a bit of a problem with her legshe just couldnt put any weight on it.
Oi, hop-along! called out Victor, gleefully waving a stick. Bet you cant catch us!
The boys darted around her like a pack of over-caffeinated squirrels, five of them between eight and twelve years old, pelting stones, taunting mercilessly, laughter ringing out.
Daisy could only tuck her injured paw under her and retreat towards the bins, her eyes betraying the quiet intelligence of someone who understood all too well, but was powerless to do anything.
Haha! chirped up Simon, the youngest. She bounces along on three legs, like a kangaroo!
And she really did hopawkwardly, dragging her back leg behind her as if it were a broomstick.
Maybe we ought to stop, murmured Tom, the quietest of the group, only to be shot down instantly.
Whats got into you, feeling sorry for her? snorted Victor. Shes useless, that one. Whats the point of a dog like that?
But Daisy remembered all too well. Barely a year ago, a metal girder crashed down on her as she pulled three-year-old Mary Evans out from underneath the wreckage. Little Mary survived, Daisy did not escape unscathed. Shed been limping ever since.
Not that the kids knew that, of course. They just saw her weird limp and heard her pitiful squeal as she tried to flee their sticks and stones.
Look how she runs! howled Peter. Like a hare on a pogo stick!
At the very moment the backyard was filled with their cackling, a sharp cry echoed from under the old garden shed:
Help! Im stuck!
It was Simonthe youngest had crawled into a tiny gap below the shed, looking for buried treasure or maybe just nosing about. Hed wriggled throughshoulders firstbut then the timbers pinched in tight, too narrow to move another inch.
Guys! His voice grew fainter. I cant breathe…
The lads dashed frantically around the shed, tugged at his feetno luck. Tried breaking the boardssolid oak, ancient, not budging.
Minutes ticked by. Simons breathing grew heavier, more laboured.
Simon! Can you hear us? Victor hammered on the wall of the shed.
A muffled groan, growing weaker.
Should we get Mum? Tom stammered.
No time! Peter barked. Hell suffocate in there!
The boys darted every which way, like ants at a picnic, digging at the earth with bare hands, poking about for anything useful: a crowbar, an axeanything to break those cursed timbers.
Nothing worked. The shed was built like a tiny medieval fortress.
This is all your fault! Victor suddenly turned on Tom.
What did I do? Tom sobbed. I told him not to crawl in!
Then they saw herDaisystanding just a few steps away, quietly watching.
Push off! Victor yelled. We dont need you here!
But Daisy didnt leave. She moved up, sniffed the ground where Simons legs stuck out, and started to dig.
Look, Tom whispered. Shes trying to help!
Dont be daft! Peter scoffed. Shes just a scruffy mongrel!
But Daisy dug anyway, dirt flying everywhere from her good front legs. And where she dug, the ground gave easilysoft, loose, not packed in hard like where the boys were digging.
She dug and dug, despite her sore paw, each movement an effort, each scoop a jolt of pain. Still, she didnt stop.
We should help her! Tom suddenly shouted.
So all five boys dropped to their kneesmud, sticks, even a broken garden forkanything to help. Side by side with the dog theyd mocked all morning.
Daisys nose found a gap, and she began to widen it, teeth and claws biting and tearing her way to the trapped boy as if her own life depended on it.
Daisy… Tom whispered.
For the first time, he used her name. Not just oi, you, or tripod, or mutant.
Simon! Victor hollered. Hang on, were almost there!
Daisy wriggled into the tunnel shed made and disappeared beneath the shed. All they could hear was scratching and scraping from the other side.
Seconds stretched like hours.
Simon! they all cried. Are you alive?
Im here, came the muffled reply. Theres a dog with meshes licking my face.
And out of the tunnel appeared first Simons hands, then his head, and a tumble of mud and panic. Right behind him, Daisys ginger face.
Simon staggered into daylight, filthy, petrified, but breathing greedy gulps of air.
Daisy emerged next, paws bleeding, muzzle caked in mud, breathing in wheezes.
The boys crowded round her.
Daisy! Victor sat down beside the dog. You saved him.
The dog lifted her head, looked calmly at the boy whod thrown stones at her only an hour ago, and wagged her tail.
Im so sorry, whispered Simon, stroking her gently. Sorry we were horrible to you.
Daisy licked his hand with a wet tongue, as if to say, Its all forgotten. No hard feelings.
We need Mum, Tom said. She needs a vet. Her paw looks really bad.
Victor took off his jacket and wrapped Daisy up.
Well carry you home, he decided. Mum will understand. She has to.
Victor and Tom carried the dog together, cocooned in the jacket.
Mum! Victor shouted, bursting into the stairwell. Mum, quick!
The other boys tumbled in after them: Simon, still shaking, Tom with red eyes, and silent Peter, lips tightly pressed shut.
What on earth happened? Their mum, Mrs. Evans, ran onto the landing in her dressing gown. Heavens, whats happened to the dog?
She saved Simon, panted Victor. Under the old shedhe got stuck, couldnt move, and she dug him out.
Mrs. Evans knelt, gently felt the injured paw.
Oh my goodness. Her paws are shredded. Look, thats a nasty wound.
Well keep her! Right, Mum? Please? Victor pleaded. Well look after her!
Of course we will, said Mrs. Evans, checking Simon for injuries. But first, the vet. Immediately.
Auntie Janethe family neighbour everyone called auntiecarried Daisy gently like a baby down to the car.
At the vets, a young man in a white coat bent over Daisy for ages, frowning and muttering.
Well? Victor couldnt contain himself. Is she going to be alright?
Her paws are badly torn. One claws practically gone. And heres a deep splinter… But the real worry is this old fracture. See? The bones healed poorly.
And is that why she limps? Simon asked.
Yes. And I expect its painful. All the time, probably.
The boys glanced at each other, shamefacedWe laughed at her. Threw stones.
Doctor, Tom spoke up, can anything be done? To fix the bone?
The vet shrugged. Its possible in theory. But its complex. Expensive. No guarantees.
How much? Victor asked bluntly.
About two thousand pounds. Perhaps more.
Silence. Two thousand quida kings ransom to a group of schoolboys.
And if we dont? Auntie Jane asked quietly.
Shell limp for life. But she can still liveif someone cares for her.
Well look after her! chorused the boys.
The vet smiled. I believe you. I really do.
Daisy lay quietly on the table, not understanding the words, but picking up the toneshe knew these strange people wanted to help.
Victor fell silent, then fished a crumpled tenner from his pocket.
Its all Ive got. I was saving up for ice-creams. Take it, please. For Daisy.
Ive got more, Simon said, dumping £20 of birthday money. I was saving for new trainers.
Ive fifty, Tom whispered. It was for a bike.
One by one, the boys emptied their pocketsfivers, coins, whatever they had.
Oh, boys! Auntie Jane dabbed at her eyes. Youre good lads, really.
What else could we do? Victor shrugged. She risked her life for us. We can do something for her, cant we?
The vet scooped up the money, counted quickly.
Thisll pay for her wounds at least. The operation… well, well see.
Thats alright! Simon piped up. Well raise the rest. Whatever it takes!
Daisy suddenly lifted her head and looked at the boysthe same ones whod bullied her that very morningand wagged her tail.
She understands! Tom whispered. Look, she does!
Of course she does, the vet nodded. Dogs know everythinglove, hate, gratitude.
From then on, the boys came to visit Auntie Jane nearly every day, where Daisy now lived.
Daisy! Peter would yell. Time for walkies!
In the neighbourhood, no one teased dogs anymore. In fact, the lads even slipped food to the strays that wandered by.
What if theres another hero among them? Peter mused.
Nowadays, Daisy parked herself on her own soft bed, warm and content. The flat always smelled of pies. Something on the stove simmered just for her.
And outside, the children playedthe very kids who once threw stones, now inviting Daisy to join them every single day…
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