A big and scary adventure for a very little Chihuahua

Today two bad boys came up to Jakey. One took his cup of money and the other one took me

I realise how comfortable I am and how warm and nice the world seems now

The Herald and publishing firm Mighty Pens teamed up to encourage short story writers with a competition earlier this year. We received well over 150 excellent submissions and ran the winning entries in the spring. Mighty Pens has now worked with the best commended authors and we will be running their stories over the summer. Here’s Sasha Goes Awol by Shirley Ellis of Glasgow

THE most elegant Chihuahua in the West End, I find myself in a very large vehicle called a “bus”. Squashed down in a boy’s jacket. I have tried to get my nose out for a better view but he keeps pushing me back down. His neck has a picture painted on it of a snake.

Earlier this morning I was sitting with Mr A. He is 93 years old. I am just two. I came to him from “Little Italy”, where he takes coffee every morning and agreed to take me from the waitress when she left. He is very clever and teaches me every day. I can almost read and help him with the crossword.

We like to sit at the window and look out over Ashton Lane when we guess which girl will fall over first on the cobbles. Anne takes me for walks. She’s nice but she likes shopping, not walking.

We go to the top of Byres Road outside Waitrose and she gives me to my friend, “Jakey”, with a pound. She returns for me in an hour. Sometimes people are nice to Jakey, who sits at the same spot most days. Some of them give him a drink or a sandwich. But some are rude and say things like, “Look at that lazy Jakey!” They don’t know he has a bad paw which he drags when he walks and hurts him a lot. Perhaps his first owners couldn’t keep him either.

Today, two bad boys from his old school came up to Jakey. One took his cup of money as a joke and while Jakey tried to get that back, the other took me. Jakey can’t run so he couldn’t catch him. Now I’m on this bus and feel sick. And frightened.

I’ve been brought to a place with a very scary dog who’s done nothing but bark since I arrived. The boy doesn’t seem to understand what this dog, “Terminator”, is saying but the gist is that he will eat me if “Snakeboy” doesn’t take me away. It’s making me cry.

The boy’s gone out saying he can’t stand the racket. He’s put me in another room. But now I hear scratching at the door and Terminator trying to open it. I never bark normally, but I leap up to the window and screech for help.

Nobody can hear me – we are very high up, like planes in the sky. He gets the door open and bounds in, leaping up and putting his paws on the window either side of me. “Hello,” he says. “Please don’t eat me,” I say.

“Oh that – that was just to make him think I hate you. Now, we’d better be quick. I heard they are going to try and sell you – take some photographs and put you on Gumtree. So I advise you to look scared and sickly. Pin your ears firmly back and shake, like you’re doing now.”

“That won’t be difficult,” I replied.

“And keep whining,” he concluded. Later, Terminator’s owner, who seems to be called “Giro”, arrives. It doesn’t take those boys long to realise that no-one will want to buy me. I screw up my beautiful big eyes, look very forlorn, and whine, while they try and fail to get a good photograph. Their next plan is to get a “ransom”, whatever that is. They argue who should go back and ask Jakey about my owner until Terminator’s howling persuades Snakeboy to go.

While I am whining at the moon in harmony with Terminator next door, I see Snakeboy return.

And then, as he opens the door below, I see a friend. Jakey is standing on the other side of the street, waving. I jump up at the glass scratching at it and howling. But, now he knows I see him, Jakey just stands there dead still.

Terminator barks through from the other room, “What’s going on?” I tell him about Jakey. Silence. Then I hear, “Right, here’s the plan. These two have started their drinking. I’m going to sneak out and open your door. Then I’ll bark to get let out. Giro’ll open the front door for me. I’ll keep it open somehow. You come out and follow me down. Let Jakey know what’s happening.”

“He doesn’t speak dog,’ I shout back. “But I’ll keep barking at him so he can see me.” Terminator growls, “What use is that?” A few minutes later I hear him open my door. “Shhh. Quiet now. Stand just inside the door and get ready to run when I call.” He goes away again.

Suddenly, I hear him barking as though the walls are falling down. I peek out. His owner is shouting at him as comes into the hall. “Pee in the close,” he orders, ‘“you don’t need to go out. I’m no’ going doon all they stairs again the night. No’ wi’ thae spitters.” He goes back.

Terminator sticks his head back inside the front door and calls me. I run out. We flee down the stairs. But there’s another door at the bottom. Terminator says, “I can’t open this on my own.” He jumps up, pulls the letter box open with his nose and paws, and barks. I can hear Jakey now at the door. He’s fiddling with something. Next thing we hear is, “I’ve still got it!” and the door opens. Jakey grabs me in his arms.

“Now,” says Terminator, “you got to make a run for it.”

“He can’t run,” I explain.

“Oh. Well, do your best. Get a cab.”

Jakey is mumbling to himself, “We’ve got to get away but I’ve only got two quid. It’ll have to be the bus.”

Terminator raises his eyebrows in exasperation.

“Make it the bus then. But Giro’s bound to come looking for me soon.” He looks up at the windows, frowning. “Leave it to me. I’ll play dead. Now go.”

Jakey limps along the street to the bus stop. It’s only a few minutes from the house but as he makes his way skidding on the slushy pavement it feels like an eternity. And then another eternity, waiting. I can feel Jakey shaking and whispering to himself, “If they find me…”

Suddenly I hear a shout, “Terminator!”, howling and then – dead silence. Followed a few moments later by a human howl. “Yee’ve ate the f***ing chi, man. It’s poisoned ye!”

While we listen, Jakey’s limbs are buckling beneath him. He pulls his hood right over his face and zips up his jacket so I can’t see.

“Now’s the time to believe, Sasha. Pray,” he whispers. Followed by, “Thank God, thank you, God – thank you,” a loud rumbling engine, and Jakey climbing on the bus saying, “Okay my man, drive on!” As he sits, I can feel the relief flood through his body. He puts his head down to me. “I think we’re okay, Sasha. Keep your paws crossed.”

When Mr A hears what happened, he insists Jakey stays with us and be my new dog walker. We’re going to get a special machine to help him.

Sitting on Mr A’s lap while they talk I start to think about the day and about Terminator. I silently thank him and then realise how comfortable I am and what a day it has been and how warm and nice the world seems now.

My eyes start to feel heavy and I drift off thinking of chocolates and other good things.

Bernard Bale, of Mighty Pens’, says

WHO can resist a story about a cute dog that has a happy ending? Not many. So this has much going for it simply because of the idea and a human affinity and goodwill towards animals and especially man’s best friend. The lesson perhaps is to pick something that touches your own heart and it will surely touch the hearts of readers.

This of course, can present one of the most common dangers in writing – we have to remember that the reader cannot see inside our head and thus what seems perfectly understandable to us does not necessarily convey to the reader.

As an example, when you are in conversation with someone you might say, “You know Margaret Smith, did you know she has just won the lottery?”

What have we done here? We have clearly established in the mind of our audience who we are talking about and what we are talking about. It is surprising how often people do not do that whether in conversation, on television or writing. So, we want the reader’s empathy with our story but we have to help them by not assuming that they know who we are talking about. This is why with dialogue it is important to keep established who is talking.

Likewise, breaking your block of copy into suitable paragraphs is vital. Otherwise readers can be justifiably confused and give up. They cannot be blamed for that – it is our fault as the writer. It is one of the fundamental differences between writing for ourselves and writing for others.

AUTHOR’S COMMENT

THANK you for this and I am delighted for The Herald to publish my story. I have noted your comments and found them to be really useful, especially since I do intend to carry on writing and perhaps one day to have a novel published.

This kind of coaching is invaluable.