Finding Dougal

Searching for this little dog reminded me what was really important in life . . .

DON’T walk so fast, Jake. These heels are killing me!” Madison clung to my arm as we crossed the Meadows.

I slowed down a little. “I don’t know why you wore them,” I replied. “You knew we had to walk to the Queen’s Hall.”

“I thought we’d be going in the car,” Madison responded, and I knew, without looking at her, that she would be pouting.

I didn’t reply. There was no point in explaining, yet again, that my Audi was in the garage.

Don’t get me wrong. I like Madison. Her tall, slim figure and blonde hair mean that men envy me this beautiful woman on my arm.

The lampposts lit our way as we walked, and a few leaves had already drifted down from the trees and carpeted the path beneath our feet.

Summer was over.

As we neared the small supermarket, I saw a figure sitting outside.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Madison pulled her coat a little tighter around her. “Is that one of those homeless people?”

When we got closer, I realised it was an elderly man sitting awkwardly on the damp pavement

Bread, teabags and tins of dog food spilled from the shopping bag he still held.

I stopped, while Madison sheltered from the cool breeze in the doorway of the coffee shop.

Before I could speak to the man, there was a flurry of footsteps from the supermarket and a young woman pushed past me to kneel at the man’s side.

“Oh, Mr Campbell, what have you done?” she asked, taking his hand.

“I went over on my ankle.” The man shook his head in exasperation.

The woman looked up at me.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, her dark hair framing scornful blue eyes.

I was taken aback. Did I know her? She looked a little familiar, but . . .

Swiftly, the woman took off her red jacket and put it around Mr Campbell’s shoulders, before gathering together the few bits of shopping and putting them back into the bag.

I lingered for a moment. Who was this woman? She looked up again. “You could phone for an ambulance.”

I took my mobile out of my pocket and dialled 999.

“Jake,” Madison called. “I need to get out of these shoes.”

“You don’t have to stay,” the woman said. “I’ll look after him till the ambulance comes. I can see you need to go.”

Madison and I walked towards my apartment for a coffee, before I ordered her a taxi home.

The last image I had of the woman was of her sitting on the cold pavement next to the man.

“You’re not to worry, Mr Campbell. The ambulance is coming. I’ll look after Dougal until that ankle is better,” I heard her say.

It was three days later when I saw the young woman again.

My car had needed more work than I thought, and I was on my way to the office when I suddenly realised that ahead of me was the dark-haired woman I’d seen outside the supermarket.

She was wearing the same red jacket and had a black Scottie on a tartan lead.

“Hello,” I said, catching up. “How’s Mr Campbell?”

She paused and the dog began sniffing round my legs.

“Improving,” she answered. “He should be home by the end of the week.”

“Good. Is this Dougal?” I bent to stroke him. “I heard you say you’d look after him.”

She smiled.

“Yes, this is Dougal.” “You seemed to know me the other evening, but . . .” I floundered helplessly.

“I was the nurse who looked after you when you came into A and E a few months ago.”

I felt my face colour up. It hadn’t been one of my finest moments.

I’d been getting stomach pains – stress-related indigestion as it turned out – and ‘d gone to A&E when the pain was particularly bad.

I also remembered making a bit of a fuss to the nurse about the length of time I had to wait to be seen.

This nurse.

“Of course,” I muttered. There was an awkward pause.

“Well, I must get on,” she said as she turned away. “Thanks for phoning the ambulance.”

I nodded and watched as she carried on down the street, the dog at her side.

My office building was built of glass and steel, with the glass reflecting the Edinburgh sky.

On a fine day it would be an azure blue, but today there were clouds and a hint of rain, so the building looked grey and dour.

“Mr Fraser wants to see you, Jake,” one of my colleagues shouted as I made my way to my desk.

I popped an indigestion tablet in my mouth, went up to the top floor and knocked on the door of the managing director.

When I heard a grunt, I went in.

“Sit down, Jake.” Mr Fraser waved a hand towards the plush chairs on the other side of his desk.

I hated those chairs. They moulded themselves around your body and it could be difficult to get out again.

“Just wanted to make sure you were set for Friday’s interview,” Mr Fraser said.

“Absolutely,” I replied. “I like to think I’m ready for whatever they throw at me.”

“So do I, Jake.” Mr Fraser leaned forwards. “Don’t forget I’ve put you forward for this, so it will come back on me if you make a mess of it.”

He took a sip of something out of a delicate china teacup that looked fragile in his large hand.

“Do you know why I proposed you, Jake?” “No, I don’t, Mr Fraser.” “Because you know how to close a deal.” He pointed his index finger at me. “You understand that you have to get something in return.

“You’ll be the youngest executive we’ve ever had, and it’s a huge opportunity for a man of your age.”

“Yes, Mr Fraser. Don’t worry,” I replied. “I won’t let you down.”

Mr Fraser leaned back. “Excellent.” He picked up a pen and twirled it in his fingers. “How’s Madison? We never see her any more.”

“She’s fine, Mr Fraser. Just busy, I suppose.”

“Her mother misses her, you know, so tell her to call home, will you?”

I pushed myself out of the chair’s embrace.

“I will, Mr Fraser,” I said as I walked to the door. “I’ll tell her that.”

Yes, Madison was Mr Fraser’s daughter.

I’d sometimes wondered if she was attracted to me because she saw me as an up and coming executive

– a copy of her father.

I wasn’t too sure how I felt about that.

I liked to think that my apartment reflected my success. The sofa, chairs and dining suite were all designer furniture.

The standard lamp which shone out of the window towards the castle had Fresnel lenses, similar to those in a lighthouse. Quite eye-catching.

My pride and joy was my Calvin Klein rug on the polished wood floor.

On Thursday evening I was just settling down to some preparatory work before the interview when I heard my intercom buzz.

Imagine my surprise when I checked the video doorbell to see the nurse standing at the door to the building.

She looked upset. “Dougal’s gone,” she said as she came through the door.

“Gone?” I repeated. “He pulled the lead out of my hand and ran off across the Meadows. I have to find him.”

She sat down in my Eames chair and put her hand over her eyes.

“What if he gets run over?”

I was bewildered. Why had she come here to tell me this? How did she know where I lived?

“I thought you could help me look,” she continued. “Mr Campbell will be home tomorrow and I can’t tell him that Dougal is lost when I promised to look after him.”

Her voice had become wobbly.

“How did you find me?” She flushed a little. “I heard your girlfriend call your name and saw which block you went into. I tried all the buzzers with ‘J’ as the first initial.”

She pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Anyway, my friends are all on shift or busy, and you’ve met Dougal and Mr Campbeli, so I thought you could help me look.”

“How many buzzers did you try?”

“Only four. I never realised J was such a common initial.”

I groaned inwardly. My first instinct was to say no. I had a lot of work to do before the important interview.

I couldn’t just go running off looking for a lost dog! Yet that’s what I did. I grabbed my coat and we went out into the cold night to search for a Scottie who was probably running around Edinburgh, having the time of his life.

We walked for miles that night, and I found out the nurse’s name was Hannah.

We walked around the Meadows, then into the city, in and out of ancient closes and down cobbled streets, shouting “Dougal!” to no avail.

Eventually we trailed wearily back up the Royal Mile and down past Greyfriars Bobby.

“Wait, I have an idea, Hannah.”

I pulled out an old notebook and pen from my coat pocket and tore a page out of the notebook.

Then, in the grey light of an early dawn, I drew up a “missing” poster, describing Dougal and giving my mobile number if anyone found him.

We put the poster below Bobby’s front paws, secured with two stones.

“Come back to my place,” I suggested as we neared Hannah’s flat. “I’ll make some tea.”

She nodded and we carried on walking.

She sat down in the Eames chair again when we got back, while I busied myself in the kitchen.

When I took the tea to her, she had fallen asleep.

I looked at her for a long time, then did something I hadn’t done in years.

After rummaging in a cupboard, I found what I was looking for.

I sat down and sketched her as she slept.

I wanted to capture the translucent beauty of her face, the shadow of her eyelashes as they curved down on to her cheeks.

Once I had a childhood dream of going to art college, but that was before I developed a ruthless ambition to be a “success”, whatever that really means.

Soon the sketch was complete, and I laid down my pencil.

I’d forgotten how much I loved art, but I was tired.

The next thing I knew was my phone waking me with a start.

“Jake?” The voice was gruff and loud. “Where on earth are you?”

It was Mr Fraser and I was late.

Muttering some excuse and promising to be there as soon as possible, I hung up and ran into the bedroom, scattering clothes as I ran, grabbing my shirt and suit.

There was no time for a shower.

“Got to go,” I shouted as I ran through the hall. “Lock the door when you leave.”

Hannah, too, had woken up and was staring at me in confusion.

There was no time for the lift, so I pounded down the stairs and out into the cool morning air.

I had just reached the car park when my phone rang again.

“Hello,” a young boy’s voice said in my ear. “Are you the man looking for Dougal?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Well, I’ve found him.” And that, I suppose, was my watershed moment.

I had believed, to paraphrase Mr Fraser, that a good deal was one where you both got something out of it.

Never give something for nothing.

Hannah had reminded me that true compassion, without thought of recompense but simply because it was the right thing to do, was the better way, and I felt better for it.

I hadn’t needed an indigestion tablet all night.

So did I go to the interview, become a clone of Mr Fraser and marry Madison, or did I take Dougal back home?

And was it ever too late to fulfil a childhood dream?

When I opened the door, Hannah was standing gazing at the sketch.

She looked up enquiringly as I entered.

I smiled at her. “Shall we go and fetch Dougal?” ■