Tuesday 14th May – Found a puppy! Or rather, it found me. I was halfway across Mowden Moor when the storm arrived. One minute the sky was clear, the next there was thunder, a wind that smelt of burnt earth and death and a noise I’ve never heard before. I sounded like thousands of dogs but I couldn’t see any anywhere. Then suddenly it was gone. I looked down and there he was. About the size of a Labrador but obviously just a pup. He’s pure white with red ears and huge amber eyes. I petted him and he licked my hand. No collar and there was no owner in sight so I obviously brought him home. Sandra says I’m an idiot…
Wednesday 15th May – Named him Dave. Sandra say’s he doesn’t look like a Dave. Dave stared at her for several minutes without blinking. Sandra apologised.
Friday 17th May – Dave ate three tins of pedigree chum. Then the washing up bowl. Then the tins.
Sunday 19th May – The vet says he’s never seen anything like him. He said his temperature was ‘impossible’, he couldn’t find his pulse and his weight kept changing because he didn’t fit on the scales.
The bill was £94. The diagnosis – Large Breed. Helpful…
Tuesday 21st May – Dave has grown alarmingly. The neighbours Great Dane refuses to leave its kennel whenever Dave wanders down the garden. The postman now throws letters from the gate.
Thursday 23rd May – Dave bit my finger off today. Entirely my fault. He’d found what looked suspiciously like a femur in the compost heap and I attempted to take it from him. The vet says he won’t be able to retrieve the finger. Dave looked terribly guilty afterwards. Brought me a sheep…
Saturday 25th May – The butcher has asked me – politely – to stop coming in the shop. Apparently asking for ‘whatever is left over when the wolves have eaten’ is not a normal request. No sense of humour, that one…
Monday 27th May – The moon affects him. He sits in the garden facing North. Sometimes he howls. Every dog in the village answers, even that little yappy one that hates everyone. Especially that one.
Thursday 30th May – Sandra has left. She said it was either her or “That bloody demon dog”. Fair enough. Dave looked genuinely upset. He went and buried her slippers in the garden with surprising dignity for a big dog.
Sunday 2nd June – Council planning officer visited after reports of an ‘unusually large white wolf’. Dave sat politely beside me throughout. The planning officer kept glancing over my shoulder. Eventually he asked ” Has – has he always had red ears?”. I said yes. He left rather quickly.
Wednesday 5th June – Something chased Dave last night. Or maybe something was looking for him. I woke up and it was thundering. Not like a normal storm though, it was like the one the other week. It sounded like hooves and horns and dogs. Dave was stood at the garden gate wagging his tail so hard I thought he was going to take off. He didn’t bark, he just waited.
Thursday 6th June – Found enormous paw prints in the garden this morning. None leading in. all leading out.
Friday 7th June – The old woman from down the road came to see me. just stood there at the gate, clutching her shopping bag. “That’s one of theirs” she said. I asked “Whose?”. She just looked at Dave who was minding his own business , sat chewing a breeze block and then scurried away. Bonkers, she is.
Monday 10th June – I’ve stopped pretending. Dave isn’t a dog. Dogs breathe and sleep. Dogs don’t stare into the fire as though they are missing someone…
Thursday 13th June – He’s restless. Won’t eat, can’t settle himself. Keeps looking towards the moors. I think he’s homesick.
Friday 14th June – They came for him just after midnight. The storm arrived without warning. The windows rattled and every light in the house went out. The sound of hunting horns rolled across the moor. Then came the hounds. White as moonlight and ears red as burning embers standing silently by the hedge. One stepped forward and I swear he was as big as a horse. Dave padded out to meet it. For a moment they touched noses then Dave looked back at me. I told him “Off you go then.” and he disappeared into the mist. The last thing I heard was him barking as the hunt went over the hill.
It wasn’t scary. Just… sad.
Sunday 16th June – Garden is strangely quiet.. I found one white hair caught on the gate, and something else. Half my missing finger wrapped neatly in a rabbit skin. I think that was his way of saying thank you.
Good doggie.
Probably shouldn’t have petted him though…
