Lost Dogs and Lonely Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page B

disconsolate ball of fur in front of her.
    ‘Hello, darlings! I’m Lulu! Please ignore my bad hair day – underneath these knots I’m a beautiful show girl. My last owner didn’t bother to brush me, or look after me properly, or even feed me every day. Luckily, now I’m here, Megan is going to give me a makeover, and soon you’ll see just how gorgeous I am. I’m looking for someone clever enough to see that just because I’m cute doesn’t mean I’m dumb – I’m probably the smartest dog in here (apart from Gem) and I want to use this brain of mine! Believe me, old dogs can learn new tricks.’
    Were poodles smart? Rachel had no idea. The only poodles she’d seen were the silly shaved pets, prancing around show rings. But they had some spark, unlike this poor creature.
    ‘Hello, Lulu!’ she called through the bars, waving a biscuit, but the dog didn’t even lift her long nose from the edge of her basket. Instead she cowered away from the voice, as if she was afraid of what Rachel might do to her. She had a shaved patch on her side, and the pale blue-grey suede of her skin seemed vulnerable around the pinched stitches holding a recent incision together.
    Rachel turned away from the poodle, unable to bear it. This was just too sad. Where were the normal dogs? The ones Dot was boarding for people who actually loved their pets?
    She leaned back against the wall opposite Lulu and closed her eyes, feeling weariness and sympathy swamp her whole body.
    If anyone knew what it felt like to be shoved out of a life you knew by someone you loved, she did. How much she wanted a second chance. Dot couldn’t possibly have known how ironic her will was. Or maybe she did. Maybe she’d remembered that strange non-conversation they’d had and decided Rachel needed not just one dog’s worth of affection but fifteen . . .
    ‘Watch out! Oi! No!’
    Rachel jumped backwards as Megan came sprinting down the corridor, wagging her finger in the direction of the pen next to her. When she looked down she realised why: the Basset hound had stuck its nose through a gap in the wire and was half-licking, half-chewing one of the round horn buttons off her long cardigan.
    ‘It’s not a sweetie! Honestly, Bertie!’ Megan directed a gentle swipe in the dog’s direction and he dropped down, back onto his four enormous paws. ‘Sometimes I wonder if there’s a pig inside that Basset hound costume of yours!’
    Bertie directed a plaintive, starving look at both of them, so that Rachel reached for the treats that she’d stuffed in her pocket.
    ‘And don’t give her that sad-eyed, no one feeds me look,’ Megan went on. ‘Sorry,’ she said, turning back to Rachel. ‘He’s a naughty one, Bertie, but we love him.’
    ‘But why’s he still here?’ said Rachel, shaking a treat out of the packet and offering it to him through the wire. ‘He’s beautiful!’
    ‘Oh, Bassets,’ sighed Megan. ‘They eat, they sleep, they won’t listen to you . . . Adorable puppies grow up into this huge dog. Bertie steals food, wasn’t house-trained, cries when he’s left alone, he chews.’ She made a stern face that wasn’t completely convincing, thanks to the soft way she bent down to tickle Bertie’s draped ears. ‘You’re someone’s project dog, aren’t you, Bertram? You need someone who likes a challenge.’
    ‘I saw his note,’ said Rachel, nodding towards the tag on the door. ‘I thought Dot didn’t like dogs talking?’
    ‘Well, she didn’t. But she reckoned it was the best way of making people understand that they weren’t toys to be picked up, or abandoned, that the dogs had feelings too, you know?’ Megan’s face darkened with protectiveness, and she chewed a hangnail. ‘OK, so they don’t do guilt or spite or emotional blackmail, but they get lonely. We wanted new owners to think really hard about what they were taking home – a life that depended on them.’
    ‘Like a child,’ said Rachel, with a pang. That was