Adrian
Woody didn’t care about the rain.
In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, racing through puddles with his coarse yellow fur plastered to his back, splashing and skidding along the path by the woods.
Running for the old green ball again and again, returning each time with a delighted wag of his tail.
It was hard to believe he was the same dog as a year ago, back when he’d been a skinny little thing frightened of his own shadow.
He was winding up to throw the ball one last time when he heard the cries. The same name, over and over again, a single word that he couldn’t quite identify over the steady patter of rain on the hood of his anorak.
The calls grew louder as a figure came into view, splashing unsteadily along the path and still shouting that single word into the woods, thick with dark dripping trees.
A slight figure in a long yellow coat, face hidden beneath the soaking spines of a purple umbrella.
Young, perhaps twenty, a brown leather leash doubled uselessly in their other hand.
Adrian called to his own dog, who came obediently to heel to have his black collar clipped to the lead. He looked into the trees as the figure approached, but the light was fading and his rain-spattered glasses made it difficult to make out any movement.
“Are you OK?” he called out. “Have you lost someone?”
The figure turned toward him, tentative, but moving a little nearer.
“My dog, she’s still a puppy really and we’re still training her; my dad said I shouldn’t let her off the lead yet but I thought if I kept her close it would be OK.
” The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other.
“Then she saw a rabbit and just went flying off into the woods and I couldn’t keep up with her. Dad’s going to kill me.”
“She can’t have gone far,” Adrian said calmly. “What’s her name?”
“Bella.” The voice was high and tight, almost hitching with a sob.
“I’m just worried that if she gets through to the other side of the woods there’s a road there and she’s not really the best with roads; she doesn’t understand the danger.
She’s lovely but she’s silly, you know? She loves everyone she meets but when she gets excited she just runs and runs, oblivious to everything else.
God, I’m so stupid for unclipping her. She’s a Dalmatian, as mad as they come.
” Woody allowed his head to be stroked, tail wagging slowly. “What breed is yours?”
“Oh, this little guy is a Heinz beans breed—fifty-seven different varieties.” He took his glasses off, wiped them on his jeans. “Look, do you have any dog treats on you, that Bella likes?”
“No, they’re at home.”
“She’s probably close by,” Adrian said. “Don’t run when you see her because she might think that’s part of a game and run away even further, or else she’ll get scared. And when she does come back to you, don’t be cross with her, OK? Just be calm, and positive.”
The stranger stared into the trees.
“Could you… help me look?” Another sob. “Just for a few minutes?”
Adrian checked his watch again. He didn’t like leaving Max at home on her own too long.
She’d been so low recently, always blaming herself—especially after the last time, getting to fourteen weeks before things went wrong.
He’d been thinking maybe it was time they asked for help: there was a lot they could do now on the NHS.
They would find a way. And maybe one day it would be his own son or daughter out by these woods, walking a dog, asking a stranger for help.
He would help a fellow animal-lover today.
Then he would go home.
“Of course,” he said. “Come on, let’s find Bella.”