Follow My Lead

There was surely an explanation for my dog’s sudden change . . .

ARE you sure about staying for the weekend?” my mum asked me on Saturday as I lugged my suitcase into her terrace.

She’d move to a street in the town of Harringforth.

It was a place with many backstreets and alleyways, a fact not lost on some.

“Of course I’m sure,” I replied. “I’ve told you a hundred times that I don’t blame you.

“I just need to find out what happened if I can.

“He’s been acting weird since he came home. I’ll go and fetch him.”

Out in the street, I returned to the car I’d tucked up against the kerb.

Inside, little Jules sat patiently in the passenger seat.

In the old days he’d have leaped around, scraped at the fabric beneath his claws or licked at the windows.

He’s a liver and white spaniel with floppy ears and expressive eyes.

He used to sleep on my bed as a puppy; he’d cry and whine all night otherwise.

He used to chew the leg off my settee and chase next door’s cats down the garden.

These days I wondered if somebody had swapped the identity chip hidden beneath his thick fur.

Maybe it was the one responsible for getting him home to me after he got lost.

I’d left him with Mum when I attended a friend’s wedding abroad.

During a walk, a car backfiring startled him and he’d slipped his collar and bolted.

Distraught, Mum did all the right things.

She’d put up posters and rung the vets; she left messages on sites all over the internet.

Once I flew home, I’d stayed with her and done a search of my own.

Only, like I said, her town’s a rabbit warren of alleys and backstreets.

The task proved fruitless.

I’d returned to my own house 50 miles away weeks later, heartbroken, thinking I’d never see my dog again.

I didn’t for a whole year, until a couple of months ago, when a veterinary practice rang with some good news.

Glossy, well fed, his eyes sparkling, Jules greeted me with great excitement when I went to fetch him.

I cried, so did all the veterinary nurses and half of the pet owners waiting in the surgery.

I drove my dog home that evening thinking Jules and I would carry on as we’d left off.

How wrong could I be? Now, back outside, I circled the car.

I opened the door and reached into the passenger side to take hold of his lead.

I don’t know why I bothered. During his absence he’d learned to walk to heel.

He’d sit on command now, too, and he no longer jumped on people on walks, covering

them in muddy paw prints.

It seemed to me that I’d lost an exuberant child and a well-mannered adult had returned.

He jumped out of the car, his tail swishing with restraint.

Not for the first time, I looked at him and frowned.

“Who are you? Where did you go? What happened?”

I’d checked the internet and all Harringforth’s local sites for weeks after he returned, seeing if anybody else was missing a pooch like mine.

No clues appeared. Whoever had looked after him daren’t draw attention to themselves.

Now I’d returned to the town to find out the truth at last.

“Come on, Jules, let’s grab some breakfast before we start our investigation.”

In Mum’s kitchen, Jules lay at my feet as I sat at the table.

He showed no interest in the toast I’d made.

In the old days, he’d have stared me out until I relinquished the crust.

With still greasy fingers, I made a call to my boyfriend.

Wasting no time on chit-chat, he got straight to the point.

“Any more thoughts on the plan?” Kyle asked.

We’d discussed a few ideas days earlier.

I’d walk around with Jules to see if anybody recognised him.

I’d walk him on an extendable lead, too, to see if he’d guide me along.

Surely he wouldn’t have forgotten his way back to the other house he’d shared.

If I found it, I’d demand an explanation.

“The plan’s the same,” I said. “I’m still upset. Do the people who kept him have any idea how devastating it

is to lose a dog?”

“Any thoughts on the other thing?” he enquired.

“It’s a big step,” I replied. “Moving in with you, I mean. It took me ages to find a house I could afford. It took even longer to do it up.

“I’m not sure I want to lose it all, and I’m not sure Jules is well-behaved enough for your city apartment.”

Kyle, as usual, tried to reason things out.

“We’ll train him. He’ll be fine, and if you move in with me you’ll be closer to your job. You won’t have to commute.”

I really didn’t want him listing all the pros and cons, not with my mum listening in.

“Let’s talk about it later, all right?” I said. “I’ll give you a ring tonight.”

Mum turned from her work as I said my goodbyes.

“Jules is perfectly wellbehaved.

“You’ve just been telling me how different he is. Isn’t that why you’re here, to find out how it happened?”

Kyle’s building did allow dogs.

He owned a cat, too; one Jules would no longer chase around the lounge.

Whoever trained him had done me an enormous favour, but I didn’t want to admit that to anybody.

“Oh, Jules still has his wild moments,” I lied as my dog lay quietly at my feet.

I cringed, hoping Mum wouldn’t point out it seemed like I was hunting for as many as excuses as I could find not to move.

Wary of a grilling, I shot to my feet.

“I’m going to make a start. Walkies, Jules! Let’s go and see what we can find out. ”

Certain my mum would have spotted Jules if he’d been living close by, I drove to the other side of town.

There, I walked my dog down street after street, past houses, bungalows and shops.

After another hour of pounding the pavements,

Jules turned a corner on his own.

Had he come this way before?

It seemed likely as we ended up in a sunny park, surrounded by marauding squirrels and kids yelling and laughing.

Jules towed me right across the grass, past two boys kicking a ball about.

He exited from the far gate.

There I discovered one of those cloned estates where all the houses looked the same bar the colours of the doors.

You’re doing it, I thought as Jules tugged me round another corner.

You’re a homing pigeon and don’t even know it.

He finally towed me up a drive of number 14, Newbold Avenue.

He stood, wagging his tail in anticipation on the step, pleased with his efforts.

I held my breath and rang the bell.

A woman in her thirties answered the door.

She peered down at my dog and gasped.

“You found Monty!” She noticed my frown then and closed her mouth.

“He’s Jules, and he’s mine,” I pointed out. “You stole him a year ago. The vet returned him when he got loose.”

I might have added more, and worse, if a little girl hadn’t stuck her head round the door.

“Monty!” she squealed. That’s when Jules lost all his new aplomb and reserve.

He turned into a ball of unbridled joy.

His tail swishing, he surged forwards, his extendable lead reeling out like a fishing line as he charged into the hall.

Down on the carpet, the girl wrapped her arms about him as he wriggled and whined in delight.

The girl’s mother wrung her hands.

“I knew we should have handed him in the day she found him.” She kept her voice low. “I said we’d keep him for a day then look for his owner.

“Only . . .” She glanced back to the happy reunion. “I’d never seen Sophie so happy for months. We lost her dad last year. It’s been a very hard time.

“I put it off, then we lost Monty, too. We took him for a walk, you see, and this other dog picked on him and he went charging away . . .”

She carried on explaining, only I tuned her out.

Her little girl had lost her father.

The fact gnawed at me the way Jules gnawed on bones.

Cold to my middle, I backed off a step.

When I was nine, my dad packed his bags and loaded everything into his car.

He’d driven away from Mum and me, even though I begged him to stay.

I’d barely seen him afterwards, then he drifted right out of my life.

I’d never really had a steady boyfriend. I’d never told Kyle that fact.

It took me 26 years to commit to having a pet.

I had to admit it: I wasn’t good with commitment.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked, snapping me back to reality.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Come and sit down.” She waved me inside.

Photos lined the hall she led me into, her husband smiling from each one.

I blinked at the sight, my insides churning.

In the kitchen, I slumped into a chair and gulped.

Losing her dad then losing Jules.

Would Sophie turn out like me?

“Roll over,” she told Jules, before feeding him a dog biscuit she took from a cupboard.

“He’s so good,” she said. He is now, I thought. As she showed off a few more tricks she’d taught him, her mother thrust a mug of tea into my hands. “You look pale,” she said. “My boyfriend’s asked me to move in with him,” I confessed suddenly.

She likely couldn’t see the connection between Kyle’s request and my visit, but I think my mum might have harboured a few suspicions.

I’d come looking for the truth of Jules’s disappearance completely ignoring how many times in relationships I’d vanished myself.

I put my mug down and stood up in a dizzying rush. “I really ought to go.”

I’d made an unselfish decision, one not based on my insecurities for once.

I crouched down to my little dog then handed over his lead to the girl.

“You have to keep him,” I said. “He’s more your dog now than mine. He can’t disappear from your life.”

The girl and her mother looked thrilled but confused.

Swallowing hard, I gave Jules one last hug.

“I’ll visit,” I told him.

I walked home in a daze, down more unfamiliar streets, past houses that all looked the same.

Turning a corner, I dialled on my mobile.

“Hi, it’s me.” I said to Kyle. “My dog’s gone again.”

“What?” he said. “You mean he escaped?”

“No, he went home.” Kyle didn’t speak as I rattled on and on.

He listened as I walked. I needed to find the right path and he couldn’t do it for me.

He was my destination, not my map.

“Kyle, I’ve had issues since my dad walked out,” I told him. “I’m afraid to love you in case I lose you, too.”

“I know,” he replied gently. “We’ll work though it. This is a good start.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I said.

I’d finally admitted I had a problem.

I smiled as I turned another corner and saw a landmark I recognised.

“I know something else as well,” I said to my future housemate. “For once in my life, I don’t feel lost. I’ve finally found myself.”