Read A Home for Shimmer Online
Authors: Cathy Hopkins
A Home for Shimmer (12 page)
Mum looked over to where Robbie was playing with Shimmer. ‘I know what you mean.’
Chapter Thirteen
Disaster
‘Have you seen this?’
I’d just got home with Dad, who’d picked me up from school on Wednesday afternoon. He was in a good mood because he’d had news. The bank was going to give him a loan and it would be enough to start the work converting the stables into a shop and café. All the way home, he’d added whistling to his usual tuneless humming. I joined in for a while. Hmm, hmm, hmm, whistle, whistle, dum de dah da.
‘Seen what?’ Dad asked Mum.
She handed him a copy of the local paper. ‘It’s a disaster,’ she said. Dad took it, read it then sighed.
‘What? What is it?’ I asked. I picked up the paper and read for myself. ‘Oh
no
.’
ANIMAL RESCUE CENTRE FAILS BEFORE IT HAS BEGUN
, said the headline.
After an animal themed afternoon on Saturday 17th May, the Westall family managed to lose their first animal resident, Shimmer. A search party was sent out but to no avail. ‘I looked around and she was gone,’ said Amy Westall (11) after the event had ended.
Newcomers to the area, the Westalls, spoke about plans to offer employment for locals and a shelter for lost pets. However, after managing to lose their first puppy, it makes this local wonder if they can be trusted to deliver on any of their promises and if maybe it was all hot air.
I looked to see who had written it. Nathan Braithwaite, it said.
‘I know who he is. He’s the man Caitlin and I bumped into when we were out looking for Shimmer,’ I said. ‘He said then he wasn’t impressed.’
‘But it wasn’t our fault,’ said Mum. ‘It’s very unfair of him not to get the facts. Someone should set him straight.’
‘We can’t do that, love. We can’t tell him what really happened,’ said Dad. ‘We promised Mrs Watson that we wouldn’t say anything about Robbie and now I’ve met him, I’m inclined to agree. I don’t want the boy getting into trouble. Sadly, Mr Nathan Braithwaite has got us over a barrel. We can’t go back to him and defend ourselves without naming names – but I agree, it seems very unfair.’ He sighed again. ‘Just as we’d won over the locals, they’ll see something like this.’
‘So what can we do? What if anyone asks?’ I asked.
‘Josh’s already taken down all the posters we put up around the village. If anyone asks, we say Shimmer wasn’t lost. We say it was a case of miscommunication and a friend was looking after her all the time,’ said Dad.
‘Sounds fishy to me,’ said Mum. ‘But I don’t think we have any choice. We can’t land Robbie in it. We’ll just have to prove Mr Braithwaite wrong, that’s all. We have to show him that Shimmer is the most obedient, well-behaved and well-looked-after dog that ever lived.’
Josh came in to join us. ‘And I can keep putting stuff on our Facebook page to show that Shimmer’s home and safe. It’s all set up now.’
‘I know what else we can do,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen it on other doggie pages online. On days like Christmas, they put tinsel on their dogs; on St Patrick’s, a green hat; and things like that. One lady even put heart-shaped glasses on her dog on Valentine’s Day. They look
so
cute. At least it will show Shimmer is well and happy, and each festival or diary date is an excuse to show an update of her and what’s happening here.’
‘And if we do some basic training with her,’ said Dad, ‘we can put some photos of that up. Show that we are responsible. Good idea, Amy. That’s what we need to keep doing, posting stuff so that Mr Braithwaite’s article becomes yesterday’s news.’
‘So, Shimmer, are you ready for your training sessions?’ I looked over at Shimmer, who was at that moment chewing one of Dad’s shoes. Luckily it was one of an old pair. ‘Hmm, I reckon we might have a challenge on there. OK. Shimmer, come here, girl.’
Shimmer looked at me then back at the shoe. She rolled on her back and carried on chewing the shoe. I got up and went over to her. ‘Drop,’ I commanded. ‘Drop shoe.’
Shimmer thought it was a game. She got the shoe firmly in her mouth and went and hid under the table where I couldn’t get at her. I followed her over. ‘Shimmer, drop. Drop the shoe.’
She ran out into the hall, still with the shoe in her mouth, and hid under the hall table, her tail wagging. She was good at this game. Next she ran up the stairs. I followed her up to see she’d hidden under my bed. She was peeking out, the shoe firmly under her front paws.
There had to be another way.
I went to my laptop and Googled ‘how to train your dog’.
I sat at my computer for hours. I watched videos on YouTube. I read websites with top tips. I made notes. I watched training sessions on how to get a dog to sit, stand, roll, stop on command. All the time, Shimmer lay at my feet happily chewing on Dad’s shoe.
‘Haha, Shim my girl, you don’t know what you’re in for!’ I said.
The next evening, I took Shimmer out into the yard after school. Dad, Josh and Ginger came out to watch. I started with practising commands to sit. As always, Shimmer thought it was a game and started running around and jumping up with excitement at all the attention she was getting. Ginger sat on one of the bins and surveyed the scene with his usual look of disdain.
‘Sit,’ said Josh. ‘Sit.’
‘I know you’re trying to help, Josh, but according to what I read, it will be confusing for her if she hears commands from different people. She won’t know who to listen to. It’s important that I establish myself as the main pack leader or else Shimmer will get confused. They like to know who’s their boss – it makes them feel safe and secure.’
‘Ooh. All hail the mighty Amy,’ said Josh.
‘She’s right, Josh,’ said Dad. ‘Dogs are pack animals. All domesticated dogs are descended from wolves and their basic instinct tells them that there has to be a hierarchy and one leader.’
Josh shrugged. ‘OK, but don’t think you get to be leader of the whole family.’
‘As if,’ I said. ‘We all know who that is.’
‘Mum,’ we chorused.
Dad laughed. ‘And that’s a fact,’ he said, looking over at Ginger. ‘With Ginger second in command.’
Ginger blinked his eyes slowly as if agreeing.
When Dad and Josh went back inside, I turned back to Shimmer. ‘We both get homework now,’ I told her. ‘And we’ll show the villagers. You’re going to be Shimmer the Wonder Dog.’
The first few sessions were hopeless. I gave the command to sit. Shimmer rolled on her back. I gave the command to roll over. She sat. Then she’d bark. As the YouTube demonstrations had advised, I turned my back on her when she did that and only when she’d stopped did I turn back, kneel down, look into her eyes and firmly say, ‘
No
’. She put her paws on my shoulders and gave me a good licking.
‘Yes, I like you too, Shimmer, but you have to learn some basic commands.’ She got down, then turned back and jumped up with such enthusiasm that I went flying on to my back. As I was lying sprawled out on the yard, I heard a male voice. ‘Need a hand?’
I looked up. It was Liam. Robbie’s sulky brother. I scrambled to my feet. ‘No. I’m fine. I . . . I’m just training my dog.’
Liam cracked up laughing. ‘Yeah. Looks like you’re winning too.’
‘No need to be sarcastic,’ I said. ‘It’s early days.’
‘Very early,’ said Liam. His face had resumed its normal sour expression.
‘What do you want?’ I asked.
‘My aunt sent me up to say me and Robbie have to come on Saturdays to help out.’
‘
Have
to come? Robbie seemed very happy about it.’
For a second, Liam’s mean mask disappeared and he looked worried. ‘You’re not going to say anything about Rob, are you? About him taking your dog?’
I shook my head. ‘No. We like him.’
Liam looked relieved and his face softened. ‘He’s a good kid. Loves animals. Mad about them. And . . . our dad . . .’ He didn’t finish the sentence.
‘What about your mum?’ I asked.
‘We don’t have a mum. She died just after Robbie was born.’
‘Oh I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know.’
His sullen mask was back in a flash. ‘We don’t need you to feel sorry for us. Just don’t tell Dad about Robbie taking your dog.’ He looked around. ‘Anyway, we’ll be here Saturday morning.’
‘OK, I’ll tell Mum,’ I said. ‘Would you . . .’ I was going to make an effort to be more friendly and offer him a glass of juice, but he’d already turned away and was trudging back down the lane. Whatever else was going on his life, he certainly had a soft spot for his younger brother.
Chapter Fourteen
Shimmer the Welly Wee-er
Dear Diary,
Shimmer’s training:
Day One: when we were out walking in the park down by the river, a lady stopped, put her handbag down and leaned over to say hello to Shimmer, who greeted her back by weeing on her wellies. So embarrassing. I knelt down, looked into Shimmer’s eyes and said, ‘No,’ very firmly. I hope she got the message. The lady gave me a stern lecture about how to control my dog. While I was listening to her, Shimmer went behind her and weed on her handbag. Oops. Luckily, the lady didn’t notice and hopefully, it dried out by the time she got home.
Day Two: Robbie came out for a walk with Shimmer and me. I explained the rules to him. We acted very pleased when Shimmer weed on a tree by making a big fuss of her, giving her a little dog treat and saying, ‘Yes, good girl.’ Also acted not pleased when she weed on a lamppost. I said, ‘No,’ in a firm voice. Shimmer just looked confused. How does one explain the difference between a tree and a lamppost to a dog? I asked Robbie. He didn’t have an answer, though he tried to explain whilst pointing at the tree and then the lamppost, but Shimmer just wagged her tail because she was getting more attention. Robbie couldn’t stop laughing and, in the end, Shimmer seemed to find it funny too and started running around chasing her tail to show she had other tricks she could do besides weeing.
Day Three: Ew. No one told me that dogs can poo for Britain, and Shimmer is a champion at it. As I was scooping up her latest into a poo bag whilst holding my nose, the snooty girls from my school, including Poppy Pengilly, went past and stared at me. ‘Dog poo,’ I called to them, by way of explanation. They looked at me as if I was mad – I think they thought I was calling them dog poo. As if. I only call Natalia names like that. Or Josh. One of them called back, ‘Dog poo yourself.’ I think they think I’m totally lame. I did wonder about getting Shimmer to wee on their shoes, but resisted despite the temptation. Revenge of the Weeing Dog. Yeah, watch out, girls of Compton Truit. I have a furry weapon and her name is Shimmer.
Day Four: Articles chewed: pair of slippers. Books. Kitchen table legs and chair legs. Shimmer also decided it would be fun to take a running jump on to the kitchen table, but was going too fast and the surface was slippery so she skidded all the way along it and almost fell off at the other end. Mum said, ‘No,’ to her in her very firm Mum-voice and Shimmer didn’t do it again. Much as I try, I think Mum is the ultimate pack leader.
Day Five: Back to the park, this time with Caitlin. I noticed the lady in the wellies. As soon as she saw us, she went the other way.
When we got to the area where dogs are allowed off their lead, I let Shimmer go and she bolted off towards a family having a picnic with two toddlers. In a flash, she helped herself to their sandwiches. One gulp and they were gone (the sandwiches, not the children). I blew the whistle Dad had given me, but Shimmer took no notice. And I did go over and apologise, but the couple were too busy calming their terrified toddlers.
Once again, I knelt down, looked Shimmer in the eyes and said, ‘No.’ She licked my face in response. Ew. A tuna and mayonnaise flavoured lick. So not what I want to smell of.
Caitlin asked if Mum or Dad had said any more about letting me keep Shimmer. She is so happy with Cola and Pepsi and is forever showing me photos of them that she’s taken on her phone. I wish I had the same confidence that Shimmer was really really mine. I replied that my plan was to be Very Well Behaved Daughter and to train Shimmer to be Very Well Behaved Dog then they couldn’t refuse. Her question did worry me, though, because no one has mentioned finding Shimmer another home for ages, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t thinking about it.
Day Six: Same park. This time I kept Shimmer on a lead, but when a child eating an ice cream walked past us, Shimmer got the scent of it. Vanilla, her favourite. She pulled at her lead and went for it; the girl tumbled over, dropped the ice cream and with one suck it was gone. Oops. Apologised to her parents. Am thinking of getting a sign printed and having it stuck to my forehead saying I AM SORRY ABOUT MY DOG.
Repeat of Day Five, on my knees, I say, ‘No,’ to Shimmer. A big lick back – vanilla flavoured this time.
She did make some new friends though: Bentley, Eddie and Tiger. Funny how their way of saying hi is to sniff each other’s bottom. Not very ladylike in my opinion, but it seems to be the thing to do if you’re a dog.
Day Seven: Out on our walk with Robbie again. He loves coming with us and is a real sweetie, plus Shimmer seems to like him too. Before I could stop her, Shimmer ate some bit of old rubbish she found on the path then got a runny tummy. On the way home, she pooed in someone’s driveway. Ew. And not the kind I could put in a poo bag (double ew) so I tipped my bottle of water over it and we ran off and hid behind a bush. Robbie couldn’t stop laughing again and Shimmer looked very happy to be hiding as it is one of her favourite games. I really hope no one saw us, especially Mr Braithwaite. The last thing we need is another horrible headline. Westalls’ Family Pet Strikes Again. Shimmer is a very loving dog but a stubborn one, and this train-your-dog lark is not as easy as they make it look on YouTube.
After a few weeks, Shimmer seemed to be getting the hang of some of the more basic commands and responded to the whistle that Dad had given me to bring her back if ever she ran too far. I’d stuck with it and repeated and repeated her lessons, giving rewards when she was good and ignoring her or saying ‘
No
, bad girl’ when she was disobedient, and blowing the whistle so she knew where I was if she’d wandered off. In the end, she caught on and I could tell she understood my different tones of voice. Hurrah!