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Authors: Joe Friedman
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home yet,’ Josh shouted at her.
But Reggae kept running. Then she stopped and sat, her tail wagging furiously. It was as if she thought she’d done something extremely clever.
Josh ran towards her. Then he saw the fox cub. He was nuzzling his mother who was lying on the ground. She’d been shot. Probably earlier in the day.
‘Good pup,’ Josh said to Reggae.
Without picking her up, he checked the cub’s eyes. They were open. That was good. It meant he was more than a couple of weeks old, and had a chance of surviving without her mother.
Then he picked him up carefully by the scruff of the neck (he’d been bitten twice before by cubs). He examined his mouth (yes, sharp teeth) and her leg muscles (she could get around).
‘About six weeks old,’ he told Reggae. ‘So she’s not for us. We’ll take her to Joanne.’ The butcher’s wife would be delighted.
He put the cub down and started to search the ground for the den. If there was one cub still alive, there were probably others nearby. And Joanne always said the more, the merrier.
* * *
‘Go,’ Josh said. Reggae ran the few steps to her food bowl, and started to eat.
‘You’re doing well,’ Josh told her. ‘But you still have a long way to go. So do I.’
Josh knew that he’d have to get permission from the vet to take part in the Gathering. And because the Gathering, and the gruelling fank afterwards, was such a severe test for a dog, it would be no easy thing to get the vet to agree to let a dog as young as Reggae participate. Josh was pretty sure
he
could do the ten days of hard physical labour involved . . . but Reggae? She might
think
she was a lion, but she was just over a year old. And she still spent most of her time in the shed, sleeping.
It wasn’t just her fitness. There was still so much for Reggae to learn. She’d never practised driving sheep or splitting them. Even dogs with years of experience had trouble splitting sheep.
Josh looked up. Reggae was peering at him, with her head tilted. It looked like she’d been there for a while.
Josh rubbed her head.
‘It’s no big deal. I’m just a bit tongue-tied with the vet. I’ve never managed to say anything very much to him.’
The second time Josh had met the vet was when his uncle had called him to deal with a crack in their bull’s front hoof. Josh knew Calum was upset because of the expense, but
he’d
been really pleased to think he was going to see the vet again. He wanted to tell him about all the animals he’d rescued.
The scene came vividly back to Josh. He’d met the brightly coloured van in the yard.
‘Hi Josh,’ the vet said. ‘Up to any mischief?’
Josh had intended to tell him there and then about the animals he’d rescued from round the croft. But nothing would come out of his mouth. He just felt like a stupid little boy who wanted to speak to a king.
The vet must have realised he wanted to talk – so he waited – what seemed like forever. Then he shrugged, picked up his bag and went to tend the bull, saying over his shoulder, ‘I’ll be glad to hear what it is you’re wanting to tell me, when you’re ready.’
Josh followed him like an orphaned puppy to the crush, where the bull would be held still so the vet could work on him, and then back to the van when he’d finished, all the time trying to make some words come out of his mouth.
In the end he’d not been able to say a single thing. Except ‘bye’. He would have to say a lot more than that to persuade the vet to let Reggae take part in the Gathering.
Reggae was looking at Josh, keen to move on. She trusted him to make everything all right.
‘Don’t worry. I’m on top of this. I’ll talk him into it. Somehow.’
Chapter 13
Josh decided it would be easiest for him (and Yvonne) if they didn’t bump into one another for a couple of days. She was better off with Eric really.
By ducking into the classes they shared late and dashing off at the end, he’d avoided her
But Reggae kept running. Then she stopped and sat, her tail wagging furiously. It was as if she thought she’d done something extremely clever.
Josh ran towards her. Then he saw the fox cub. He was nuzzling his mother who was lying on the ground. She’d been shot. Probably earlier in the day.
‘Good pup,’ Josh said to Reggae.
Without picking her up, he checked the cub’s eyes. They were open. That was good. It meant he was more than a couple of weeks old, and had a chance of surviving without her mother.
Then he picked him up carefully by the scruff of the neck (he’d been bitten twice before by cubs). He examined his mouth (yes, sharp teeth) and her leg muscles (she could get around).
‘About six weeks old,’ he told Reggae. ‘So she’s not for us. We’ll take her to Joanne.’ The butcher’s wife would be delighted.
He put the cub down and started to search the ground for the den. If there was one cub still alive, there were probably others nearby. And Joanne always said the more, the merrier.
* * *
‘Go,’ Josh said. Reggae ran the few steps to her food bowl, and started to eat.
‘You’re doing well,’ Josh told her. ‘But you still have a long way to go. So do I.’
Josh knew that he’d have to get permission from the vet to take part in the Gathering. And because the Gathering, and the gruelling fank afterwards, was such a severe test for a dog, it would be no easy thing to get the vet to agree to let a dog as young as Reggae participate. Josh was pretty sure
he
could do the ten days of hard physical labour involved . . . but Reggae? She might
think
she was a lion, but she was just over a year old. And she still spent most of her time in the shed, sleeping.
It wasn’t just her fitness. There was still so much for Reggae to learn. She’d never practised driving sheep or splitting them. Even dogs with years of experience had trouble splitting sheep.
Josh looked up. Reggae was peering at him, with her head tilted. It looked like she’d been there for a while.
Josh rubbed her head.
‘It’s no big deal. I’m just a bit tongue-tied with the vet. I’ve never managed to say anything very much to him.’
The second time Josh had met the vet was when his uncle had called him to deal with a crack in their bull’s front hoof. Josh knew Calum was upset because of the expense, but
he’d
been really pleased to think he was going to see the vet again. He wanted to tell him about all the animals he’d rescued.
The scene came vividly back to Josh. He’d met the brightly coloured van in the yard.
‘Hi Josh,’ the vet said. ‘Up to any mischief?’
Josh had intended to tell him there and then about the animals he’d rescued from round the croft. But nothing would come out of his mouth. He just felt like a stupid little boy who wanted to speak to a king.
The vet must have realised he wanted to talk – so he waited – what seemed like forever. Then he shrugged, picked up his bag and went to tend the bull, saying over his shoulder, ‘I’ll be glad to hear what it is you’re wanting to tell me, when you’re ready.’
Josh followed him like an orphaned puppy to the crush, where the bull would be held still so the vet could work on him, and then back to the van when he’d finished, all the time trying to make some words come out of his mouth.
In the end he’d not been able to say a single thing. Except ‘bye’. He would have to say a lot more than that to persuade the vet to let Reggae take part in the Gathering.
Reggae was looking at Josh, keen to move on. She trusted him to make everything all right.
‘Don’t worry. I’m on top of this. I’ll talk him into it. Somehow.’
Chapter 13
Josh decided it would be easiest for him (and Yvonne) if they didn’t bump into one another for a couple of days. She was better off with Eric really.
By ducking into the classes they shared late and dashing off at the end, he’d avoided her
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