{"id":129,"date":"2022-12-21T16:50:06","date_gmt":"2022-12-21T16:50:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/?page_id=129"},"modified":"2022-12-21T16:50:08","modified_gmt":"2022-12-21T16:50:08","slug":"lucky","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/?page_id=129","title":{"rendered":"Lucky"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

I wrote this as a Secret Santa for a member of the Romantic Novelists Association, Christmas 2021.  I think it would make a perfect Christmas TV advert \u2013 substitute advertiser of choice for Amazon!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It had been a long day, and Bob knew there would be no let-up between now and Christmas.\u00a0 He heaved a sigh.\u00a0 Being a delivery driver kept his head above water, but it was a thankless task.\u00a0 He couldn’t even claim it helped with the loneliness he’d felt since his wife died the previous year – his schedule was so tight he didn’t have time to stop and talk to the people into whose hands he thrust the brown boxes with their tell-tale Amazon logo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0Safely parked in the driveway of the tiny bungalow he rented, he went to the rear of his van to check that none of his emergency supplies had escaped from their boxes.\u00a0 He’d been stuck once, at the beginning of the year, when his van had skidded on ice and he’d had to wait to be towed out of the ditch he’d ended up in. Since then, he’d always carried a sleeping bag, water, some basic rations, wellies, and extra winter clothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0As he clambered up into the van, he heard a scratching noise.\u00a0 He frowned, wondering if one of the isolated farms he’d delivered to had gifted him with a rat or mouse.\u00a0 He peered cautiously over the back of his neatly tethered supply box and found himself gazing into a pair of brown eyes flecked with gold.\u00a0 For one frozen moment he had no idea what he was looking at, but then the creature whined and he realised it was a small, scruffy dog.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0Bob had no experience with dogs, and had no idea what to do.\u00a0 He realised the animal must have got onto the van at some point during the day when its doors were open and he was rushing up a driveway to thrust a box into yet another pair of waiting hands.\u00a0 But when, and where?\u00a0 His route had taken him all over several counties, through towns, villages and up isolated country lanes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0“Hello,” he said nervously.\u00a0 “I don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl.\u00a0 How did you get on my van?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He realised how stupid the question was as soon as it left his mouth.\u00a0 The dog wasn’t going to tell him anything, apart from the fact – from its wide eyes and shivering body – it was terrified.\u00a0 He couldn’t leave it in the van.\u00a0 Nervous of being bitten, he reached down and scooped it up.\u00a0 It wriggled slightly, but seemed to realise he was trying to help and allowed him to carry it through his front door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once the dog was safely ensconsed in his kitchen, he went out, locked the van, and then walked across the road to a neighbouring house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sheila must have just got in from work – she was wearing a smart business suit, and he felt a little embarrassed about the jogging bottoms and jumper he wore every day.\u00a0 Her appearance at the door was accompanied by frantic barking from her own dog, a large animal of which he was a little afraid.\u00a0 Fortunately for his peace of mind, it must have been shut into a room, as apart from making a lot of noise it made no other appearance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’ve got a dog,” he opened with, and then winced.\u00a0 “I mean, I don’t, but I do.\u00a0 Oh dear.\u00a0 Can I start again?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I think you’d better,” Sheila said, and then turned.\u00a0 “Barney, shut your yapping!”\u00a0 She turned back.\u00a0 “Do you want to come in?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Uh – no, thank you.\u00a0 I just … I just found a little dog in my van.\u00a0 I don’t know how it got there or when, and I don’t know what to do.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The local vet can scan it, if it’s got a chip they’ll be able to identify the owner.\u00a0 If that doesn’t work, we’ll try the internet.\u00a0 Is the dog still in your van?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“No, I took it into the house.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Wait here.”\u00a0 She walked away, and a few moments later came back with a couple of cans of dog food.\u00a0 “Put some of this in a bowl – how big is the dog?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He – or she – is just …”\u00a0 He gestured vaguely with his hands, trying to estimate its size.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“All right – just half a tin, then.\u00a0 And some water.\u00a0 You have bowls?\u00a0 And here’s the phone number for the local vets.\u00a0 They’re just up the road in Park Street – you can’t miss them.\u00a0 But ring first to make sure they’re OK with you taking your stowaway in.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bob found himself walking back, rather bemusedly, to his own house.\u00a0 Of course he had bowls – Agatha’s prized china ones, that hadn’t been used since she passed away.\u00a0 He guessed the dog wouldn’t care what it was eating from.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He found the little dog seated by the radiator in his kitchen.\u00a0 It stood up when he came in and, when he took out a bowl and a can opener, he saw its tail wag just a little.\u00a0 He put the bowl down near the little dog and, seeing that the creature was still afraid of him, pushed it a little closer.\u00a0 “There you go,” he said softly, as it crept forward and took a hesitant mouthful.\u00a0 He noticed that it had a red collar, but there was no name on it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The vet was just about to close, but was kind enough to stay open long enough to see the dog.\u00a0 “He’s about three, four years old,” she said, “well looked after, I’d say.”\u00a0 She scanned him.\u00a0 “And yes, there’s the chip.\u00a0 Give me a moment to check …”\u00a0 She went to her computer and began tapping keys.\u00a0 After a while, Bob saw that she was frowning.\u00a0 “I’m sorry,” she said, “the chip doesn’t seem to be registered.\u00a0 I’ll check again in the morning, but I’m afraid for the moment you’ll have to keep him.\u00a0 Have you no idea at all when he got into your van?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“None,” Bob said.\u00a0 His heart sank – somewhere, someone was probably really worried about the little dog.\u00a0 He’d have to retrace his steps from the previous day, and that meant taking a day off.\u00a0 Amazon weren’t very forgiving about sudden periods of absence, and he might even lose his job.\u00a0 Still, if there was nothing else to be done, he’d do it – he couldn’t bear the thought of some family somewhere spending Christmas not knowing the fate of their beloved pet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

****<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’ve looked everywhere!”\u00a0 Susan was in tears, and not for the first time that day.\u00a0 She’d been walking Lucky that morning in the fields when a sudden explosion of noise had made the dog run away in terror.\u00a0 There had been some school children letting off fireworks, presumably left over from bonfire night, and Lucky had always been frightened of fireworks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Don’t worry, pet,” her elderly neighbour said.\u00a0 “The boys are out looking, I’m sure they’ll find him.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He’s just so terrified of fireworks!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Those boys ought to be ashamed.”\u00a0 Delia shook her head.\u00a0 “There are some other things we can try.\u00a0 There are lost dog sites on the internet – the council might have picked him up.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I don’t have a computer,” Susan confessed miserably.\u00a0 She’d never felt the need to own one when she was working, and now her pension wasn’t enough to allow her to buy one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“That’s all right, pet – we’ll use mine.”\u00a0 Delia confidently led the way into her sitting room.\u00a0 Her house was so clean, Susan thought, looking around.\u00a0 The furniture was polished, the few ornaments tasteful, the pictures on the wall all of children and grandchildren.\u00a0 Her own house was far less tidy – Lucky left hairs on everything, and there were books lying around, and her furniture was old and unfashionable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The computer was a big thing sitting on a desk in the window.\u00a0 Delia sat down and did some things with buttons, and when the screen lit up – with another picture of grandchildren, Susan saw – she looked around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Now,” she said, “how would you describe Lucky?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Well, he’s … five years old, and he’s not any kind of breed, just a mongrel.\u00a0 But with a lovely personality.\u00a0 He’s very friendly and he’s never bitten anyone, although he did growl at my cousin that time.\u00a0 I can’t say I blame him, I never liked Bernie much, either.”\u00a0 Susan realised she was babbling, and dabbed at her yes.\u00a0 “I have a picture,” she said, sadly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Oh, that’s good.\u00a0 Do you have it with you?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Susan didn’t like to say it never left her person, since she carried her handbag with her everywhere and it had pride of place in her purse.\u00a0 She took the picture out and handed it over.\u00a0 Delia took it and placed it inside some kind of machine.\u00a0 She pushed more buttons, and miraculously – to Susan – the picture appeared on the screen.\u00a0 She clicked away busily and said, “Right, the council haven’t listed any dogs found today.\u00a0 I’ll put it on all the local posts, and I’ll put it on Twitter, as well.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Susan had no idea what Twitter was, but agreed that sounded like a good idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

****<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0“You’ve gone viral!”\u00a0 Sheila was bursting with excitement, so much so that her dog was straining at the leash.\u00a0 Bob back up a step nervously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I have?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes – I put that picture I took of your dog on Twitter with the story of how he was found and the post’s been retweeted hundreds of times!\u00a0 I’m sure it’s only a matter of hours before we find his owner!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Truth was, over the next few days Bob was phoned repeatedly by different people claiming to be the dog’s owner but not living anywhere near his route, or not being able to describe the one notable thing about the little dog that the vet had pointed out – he had a scar on one back leg.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then, finally, it happened.\u00a0 “Hello?\u00a0 I think you might have my dog, Lucky.\u00a0 I mean, his name’s Lucky.\u00a0 Mine’s Susan.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Can I ask where you live, Susan?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Four Oaks.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The village was, at least, near to where he’d been the previous day.\u00a0 He supposed a dog walker might have been a few miles away.\u00a0 Sheila had told him dogs needed walks, and had even supplied him with a lead so that he could take the small animal out.\u00a0 He hadn’t dared take him further than his back garden, where the dog had sniffed at every bush and eventually cocked a leg against his prized rose, currently dormant for the winter.\u00a0 He hoped dog pee wouldn’t affect the quality of the blooms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Does he have any distinguishing marks?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Um, he’s got a red collar, and I had him clipped recently, but he’s got a bit scruffy again, and he’s – he’s five years old and there were these boys with fireworks …”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bob could hear the tremble in her voice and realised she was desperately hoping for good news.\u00a0 “Any scars?” he asked encouragingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Oh … on his back leg … just a scrape from when he got too close to my neighbour’s cat – horrible creature, black, just a ball of bad temper on legs.\u00a0 She bit him!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Susan, was that your name?\u00a0 Susan, I think I he’s your dog.\u00a0 The vet said he had a chip but it wasn’t registered…”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“My late husband said he’d got that all sorted out,” Susan said.\u00a0 “You mean he didn’t?\u00a0 Oh dear, one hates to speak badly of the dead, but … he was very good at saying he’d done things he hadn’t.\u00a0 May I … would you bring him to me?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

****<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0“So you’re letting a total stranger come to your house?\u00a0 That’s very brave of you.”\u00a0 Delia looked around her kitchen, picked up a rolling pin and hefted it.\u00a0 “Just in case.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He sounded like a very nice man on the phone!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He kidnapped your dog!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“No, he – he said he didn’t even know he was in his van.\u00a0 Oh!”\u00a0 The doorbell rang.\u00a0 “That must be him now.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

****<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bob knew the moment the door opened that Lucky was home.\u00a0 The little dog, on the lead Delia had leant him, surged forward with a yap of happiness.\u00a0 Susan was in tears, and Bob found himself apologising profusely for not having realised the dog was in his van until he got home.\u00a0 He eyed worriedly the woman standing behind the elderly lady who’d answered the door, a rolling pin in her hand.\u00a0 Perhaps she’d been making pies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“He’s a nice little dog,” Bob admitted.\u00a0 “I never had a dog.\u00a0 I think I might even miss him a bit.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Oh!\u00a0 Oh, I can’t thank you enough.\u00a0 I …”\u00a0 Susan paused, turning to the other woman.\u00a0 “Everything’s fine, Delia, I’m sure this nice man isn’t going to attack me.”\u00a0 She gave him a coy look.\u00a0 “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?\u00a0 After all, it’s the season of good will.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Which is the story of how one small dog brought two lonely people together just in time for Christmas.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I wrote this as a Secret Santa for a member of the Romantic Novelists Association, Christmas 2021.  I think it would make a perfect Christmas TV advert \u2013 substitute advertiser of choice for Amazon! It had been a long day, and Bob knew there would be no let-up between now and Christmas.\u00a0 He heaved a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-129","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","post-preview"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/129","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=129"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/129\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":130,"href":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/129\/revisions\/130"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jamortimore.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=129"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}