ROVER THE WONDER DOG

ROVER THE WONDER DOG
Somebody has scrawled the word ‘NO’ above the street sign for Hope Street. Dora Beatty shuffles past on her way to number 52 where she lives alone with her ancient furniture and her worn out clothes. Most of the terraced houses in this area have been converted into bedsits and rented out to no-hopers like Dora who live on benefits, their rent paid directly into the bank accounts of anonymous landlords. To describe the area as shabby would be generous.
Dora has been at her usual pitch outside the tube station, begging. She makes enough to keep her liver soaked in cider. Cheap and strong, it blocks out the cold reality of being alive. By the time the sun has risen on this winter’s morning Dora is snoring, passed out on the filthy bed, fully clothed, beneath a stinking duvet.
Alan is woken by a small person kissing his face. Opening one eye, his face crinkles into a wide grin. ‘Morning Trouble,’ he laughs. Tess shouts downstairs: ‘He’s awake, mum.’ He is now, thinks Alan. He’s promised to take the family to the open air skating rink and they are eager to get going. James has already walked and fed Rover, carefully drying the dog’s paws before allowing him back in the house.
Katy is clearing away the breakfast things as her husband appears. He hurriedly crunches his way through a bowlful of cereal, downs a glass of juice and they are ready to go.
‘No, not you Rover; you stay and guard the house.’ The kitchen door is firmly closed as the family leave in high spirits. Rover grunts his disapproval and tries to get comfortable in his basket underneath the kitchen table. He could have gone skating too if they had asked him.
The house is quiet and getting cool because they always switch off the central heating before they go out anywhere. Rover is glad of his thick fur coat but much prefers the warmth of the radiator. He dozes off but wakes again as the fridge motor cuts in. He glares at the locked fridge door. Just because he once accidentally ate a two pound block of cheese after finding out he could open the door it has been kept firmly locked with a childproof device, one of many subsequently fitted to all doors concealing food.
The motor cuts out with a judder and Rover grunts, closes his eyes and is about to fall asleep when Cat comes crashing in through the flap in the back door. She carefully creeps past as he eyes her menacingly. She knows he won’t try anything and Rover knows he won’t try anything. He can still feel the scratches on his nose from their last encounter. She may be small but Cat is a fighter.
Cat doesn’t have to dry her paws before she is allowed indoors. Her grubby wet prints decorate the recently wiped worktop as she leaps up to settle on the windowsill where she can preen herself in the sunshine. Even in December it is still warm enough through the glass to please a cat. They both get comfortable and drift off to sleep.
Suddenly the doorbell sounds and Rover leaps to his feet, barking loudly. Cat springs up from her windowsill, knocking the cold water tap on her way to the floor and scurrying out through the cat flap. The letterbox squeaks and footsteps can be heard receding up the garden path. Rover barks urgently as freezing water from the tap cascades onto the upturned washing up bowl and splashes all over the room.
The torrent showers down as Rover cowers beneath the kitchen table. For sure it will be he who gets the blame for this. As the flood begins to rise, Rover realises that he has to do something. Racking his poor little brain he remembers seeing mum pushing a lever back and forth to start and stop the water flow. If only he can reach far enough maybe he can turn off the tap and save the day.
Bravely he faces the deluge, stretching to his utmost he manages to nudge the tap with his nose. The water stops; he has averted a disaster. How grateful the family will be for his heroic deed. They will make such a fuss of him.
Rover’s bed is soaked; the only dry spot he can find is actually on top of the kitchen table. Surely under the circumstances he will be excused?
Darkness fell long ago and Rover, wet cold and hungry leaps with joy on hearing the happy voices as the family return at last. His tail swishes excitedly as the kitchen door opens. He jumps up to greet Katy. ‘You’re all wet Rover, get down,’ she scolds, pushing him roughly away. Wallop, down she goes with a scream, flat on her back on the icy wet floor. ‘Ouch, my head,’ she wails as she flounders in the freezing pool of water.
Alan turns on the light and surveys the scene: Rover cowering beneath the table paw prints all over the worktops and windowsill and water everywhere. It seems obvious what has gone on here. Rover must have attacked the cat because her paw prints are all over the windowsill and drainer. She must have been scared out of her wits, the poor little thing.
It is past midnight by the time the mess is cleared and the room back to normal. Everyone is in bed asleep, all except dad. He has had quite enough of Rover’s nonsense. Clipping the lead onto the dog’s collar he silently takes him out via the kitchen door. The dog happily trots alongside his master, wagging his tail. How nice: a midnight stroll. But dad has no intention of taking a pleasant stroll. He heads straight for the animal rescue centre where he ties the lead firmly to the door handle and walks briskly away.
Rover whines pitifully as his master strides away and disappears into the distance. He pulls at the lead, yelps in pain as his collar digs into his neck. Eventually he gives up, curls up on the doorstep and tucks his head between his front paws to keep the chill wind out of his eyes.
Dora Beatty has had a good day. People are generous at Christmas time, more so when they have been making merry at their office parties. She sways along the road, stopping at times to swig from a bottle of sherry. Well, you have to treat yourself at Christmas. She fails to see the dog, whose tail is directly in her path, trips over it and lands flat on her face beside him. Seeing her passed out on the cold slabs Rover sympathises; perhaps someone has abandoned her as well. He curls his body around her to keep her warm.
Hours later Dora’s fuzzy brain swims back to life. Something warm is pressing against her back. She moves slowly, groping for her handbag, but somebody has taken it. She curses the thieving scoundrels, hitting an old lady when she’s down. The sherry bottle has smashed against a wall, spilling its contents. She mourns the loss, turns round and sees the dog staring at her, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. She struggles to her feet, brushing the frost from her clothes. The dog probably saved her from freezing to death. In a moment of festive madness she unties his lead and takes him home.
The bedsit is cold and smelly but far better than the pavement. The two rejects burrow under Dora’s duvet and fall into exhausted sleep.
Alan has not been able to sleep. What has he done? How will he explain Rover’s disappearance? His wife instinctively knows when he is lying. It’s no use: he will have to go and get the dog back before anybody notices.
Katy stirs as he is leaving the bedroom. ‘Where are you going?’ she asks, sleepily, ‘its Saturday.’ Alan pulls a jumper over his head and tucks the duvet round her. ‘Shh, just taking the dog for a walk; I can hear him whining. Don’t want to wake the kids.’ Katy mumbles something and goes back to sleep as Alan creeps downstairs and out the door. He hurries to the rescue centre but there is no sign of the dog and the doors are still locked. He rings the bell but there is no reply, after all it is only six in the morning.
The family are gathered in the kitchen when Alan returns home hours later having searched the area and checked back with the rescue centre but they have no record of a dog being found. He says that Rover ran off in pursuit of a cat on the common. He says he has looked all over but found nothing that he will go for a drive round in the car once he has had breakfast and warmed up.
Katy eyes him with suspicion; ‘surely he’ll come home of his own accord won’t he? It’s not the first time he’s run off.’ Alan has to agree with her for the sake of the children and to ease his guilt.
The local teenagers are making a racket up and down Hope Street buzzing about on mini motorbikes and shrieking loudly. Dora curses them for waking her and pulls the duvet over her head. Coming to, she feels the odd sensation of hot breath on her neck. She screams, throwing the duvet off to reveal a startled Rover, who was only greeting his new-found friend. Where did he come from? ‘Shoo, get off,’ she shouts, pushing the confused dog away. He plops down off the bed and rests his head on the crumpled duvet, his best look of hurt on his face.
Slowly Dora’s brain awakes as she vaguely recalls the events of the previous night. This is a dog and it is going to want feeding. It is also bursting for a pee.
Dora has never before been so early at her begging pitch. She has tied a red scarf round Rover’s neck and is teaching him to sit up and beg, a skill which he quickly masters, much to the amusement of passers-by, who are quick to throw a few coins into the old woman’s hat.
‘Hello boy, aren’t you cute’ tweets one young woman as she bends down to pat the dog. ‘And hungry,’ adds Dora. ‘I can’t really afford to keep him but I promised old George just before he died God rest his soul. Poor Jack, I’m all he has left in the world.’ She puts her arm over Rover’s back and pulls him towards her. ‘I can’t let you down can I old boy?’
The girl is suitably impressed, reaching into her purse and fetching out a £2 coin, which Dora accepts with tears in her eyes. It’s easy to cry when the cold wind is whipping about your face. Nobody has ever given her that much before. She tells her generous patron that old Jack will eat well tonight thanks to her and the girl walks off with a satisfied spring in her step, glad to have done her good deed for the day. People love to give, especially to helpless animals.
Rover usually spends his days in bored isolation but today he is actually enjoying himself. Dora is a bit grumpy but he is getting so much attention from all these wonderful people he can’t believe his good fortune. He was even allowed to eat a half-chewed burger someone dropped in the waste bin next to them and he would never have been allowed to do that by the family. Very tasty it was too.
After a few hours sitting in the same spot Dora’s bones are getting stiff. She is stunned that she has had to empty the hat several times and the two friends walk off towards the supermarket, Dora’s pockets loaded down with coins. She ties Rover’s lead securely outside the supermarket, makes her purchases as quickly as possible and returns relieved to find he is still there and happy to greet her.
Dora has bought cider, cigarettes, biscuits, sandwiches and dog chews yet still has plenty of money to spare. They hurry to the park to share out the spoils, with Rover happy to bolt down his egg sandwich and start on the dog chews. Dora quenches her thirst from the 3 litre bottle and eats her cheese and pickle triple decker sandwich. They are each more than satisfied with the deal.
It is Christmas Eve and the family are still hoping the search for their pet will succeed. They have taped notices to lamp posts all round the area but there has been no response. Tess says she doesn’t think they will ever find Rover and James says they can maybe get another dog to take his place. His logical thinking is met with scorn from the other members of the family and Cat hopes they never get Dog back. The family have made an extra fuss of her since he disappeared and it suits her very well. The gloomy mood is lifted by the reminder that tomorrow is Christmas day.
Rover has no idea what day it is and frankly he doesn’t care. He is having the time of his life. Dora also has no idea of what day it is, but for different reasons. Even when blind drunk some kind of homing instinct has led her back to Hope Street. Rover credits himself with this miracle as he has scent-marked every tree and post between here and the tube station.
As he tows Dora home once again he notices that the front door is open. He holds back, baring his teeth at a young man who is standing inside the hall. ‘Mum, look at the state of you,’ he scolds, ‘have you got no self-respect at all?’ He shuts the front door and follows his mother up the stairs, carefully avoiding the dog’s glare. ‘What do you want?’ she slurs, squinting up at the tall, well-dressed young man.’ He sits down next to her on the bed and tries to take her hand but she pulls away, drawing Rover closer to her side. ‘Why don’t you come home with me and get yourself cleaned up, get you sorted out.’
Dora’s hard expression surprises him; she seems much older than her fifty years. ‘Why don’t you bugger off and mind your own business,’ she says. ‘But the family are all concerned about you. Look at the state you’re in and it’s Christmas for Heaven’s sake.’
Dora makes an effort to focus before replying, ‘Sod Christmas and sod you all. You never thought about me when you were letting that bitch of a wife make my life hell. Jack is my family now; he’s all I need, aren’t you darling?’ Rover gives a defiant bark and Kevin backs away. I split up with Julie years ago; it’s just me and the kids now. Won’t you come home, if not for me then for them?’
But Dora has passed out on the bed and the dog has jumped up to lay at her side. Kevin takes a brown envelope from his coat pocket, props it up on the cluttered bedside cupboard and closes the door on his way out.
Dora places her one and only Christmas card on the shelf. Her son has put a £50 note inside and she has spent most of it on booze. There’s no point in begging when there is nobody about so she is spending her time teaching ‘Jack’ new tricks, and for a change eating proper food. She has even remembered to provide the dog with the best tinned food and biscuits. Without noticing, she has not actually been out of her mind on cheap booze for some days. She is starting to enjoy herself, something she has not been able to do for a decade.
She has grown very fond of the dog, a cross between a mongrel and another mongrel. His warm presence at night means she doesn’t have to feed the electricity meter, leaving more money for essentials. The only drawbacks are the cost of feeding him and his daily need for walks. She can’t risk him running off so she has to keep him firmly on a lead, meaning she also is getting exercise.
January has arrived and Dora has developed a daily routine where she parks herself and Jack at their usual pitch every morning, then on to the supermarket for essential supplies followed by lunch in the park. They try to find a place by Gerald’s hot dog stall because he will give them a burger in return for them moving far enough away to avoid putting off his customers. Rover has become very fond of burgers and often eats Dora’s leftovers too. He is getting a bit fat and walking more slowly, which suits Dora as she can keep up with him now.
The evening begging sessions at the tube station have been growing in success since Jack has been performing his increasingly clever tricks. Instead of being invisible, Dora now finds she has an audience; a paying audience. In one day she can pull in more cash than she used to make in a week. Now that her consumption of cheap cider has been exchanged for better quality booze and less of it, Dora is finding that her mind is clearer; she is even thinking of someone other than herself. She realises this is all down to the dog, the stranger who has come in to her life by chance and is turning it around.
The commuter traffic has fizzled out and Dora is collecting her things ready to leave when a young man stops by. ‘May I take a video clip with my mobile phone?’ he asks politely. She eyes him suspiciously, this smart young man in expensive clothes. ‘How much will you pay me?’ she asks. He replies with an oily smile on his smooth tanned face, ‘fifty quid?’ She is still suspicious and wants to know why he will pay for a video of her old Jack. The man takes a business card from his wallet, hands it to her and introduces himself, making sure she gets a good look at the banknotes crammed between the calfskin folds. ‘C.B.Cashman,’ she reads aloud, ‘Cashman, Offord and Cliffe, advertising.’ She turns the card over, examining the impressive design.
‘We’re looking for a special dog to head up our new insurance advertising campaign,’ explains Cashman, ‘I couldn’t help noticing how talented your dog is. He may be just what our clients are looking for.’ Dora is excited at the thought of making some real money for once. ‘A hundred, in cash,’ she says. He pulls two £50 notes from the wallet and hands them over. Dora snatches the notes and secures them in a zipped pocket. ‘Sit up Jack,’ she begins, as Cashman aims his phone in the dog’s direction. Rover is pleased to oblige his friend and goes through his latest routine. He loves being the centre of attention.
Cashman plays back the recording, a greedy smile on his face. ‘Can you get him to do that thing where he crouches down and puts his paws over his face?’ Dora does as he asks, rewarding Jack with a pat on the head. ‘That’s fantastic,’ says the young man, ‘will you be here again tomorrow?’ Dora looks up at him and pauses before saying that she could be. ‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ he adds. She looks down at Jack who is puffing great clouds of condensation at her legs. ‘We’ll be here,’ she sighs, ‘we don’t have anywhere else to go.’ Cashman decides against shaking her grubby hand, opting instead to give Jack a pat on the back before striding off with a spring in his step.
A hundred quid; a hundred flipping quid; Dora’s head is buzzing yet strangely it is not booze on her mind. For the first time in a decade she takes a wheeled trolley for her tour of the supermarket. The security guard eyes her suspiciously, hand over his face as she swaggers past and instead of heading straight for the drinks aisle he watches as she selects items from the clothing rails.
Once she is satisfied with her collection of new clothes she turns down the pet food aisle and chooses the best dog food on offer for her star performer before making the final stop at the booze section. The cashier processes the purchases with barely a glance at her customer, accepts the notes Dora hands over, checks their authenticity and gives her the change. She has spent nearly ninety pounds.
Cashman is amazed when he arrives at the tube station next day to find Dora dressed in her new supermarket purchased clothes. Jack has been roughly groomed and kitted out with a new collar and lead along with a new red and white spotted scarf. Shame that neither of them has bathed but they do look and smell somewhat sweeter than they did the day before. He hails a taxi, gives the driver an address and takes them to the photographic studio, which looks disappointingly drab. The interior however is equipped with all the latest that technology can offer.
Dora and Jack are led into one of the tiny studios where they are surrounded by assistants who set to preening and primping the startled dog. He is relieved when they finish their administrations and he is put to work showing off all his moves. He is filmed and photographed from all angles and put through his repertoire several times before the production team are satisfied enough to call for a break.
A hush descends as the Chiefs arrive to discuss the recordings, ignoring the star of the show and his handler, who are left to drink tea and eat biscuits. Dora had no idea that filming a few tricks could prove so complicated or so tiring, and this is only a test session. After three hours her brain is screaming for alcohol and Jack is dead on his feet but seemingly happy to have done all this work for a bowl of milky tea and a few biscuits.
Cashman finally leaves the assembled group, thanks Dora and Jack for coming and says they will be in touch. He gets her to fill out a form with her contact details and sign a preliminary contract in case the clients decide to use Jack in their campaign. He then escorts them to a waiting taxi, gives the driver £50 and sends them on their way.
Dora gets the driver to drop them off at the supermarket. She spends the rest of her cash on essential supplies, i.e. booze and cigarettes, and leads Jack to their pitch ready for the evening session. The poor dog is worn out and leaning his head against Dora’s side he falls asleep. She has no need to wake him yet so she sits contentedly drinking from the 2 litre bottle of cider she has been longing for all day. Only when it is empty does she begin to relax.
The evening crowd seem not to be in such generous mood with Jack asleep. Dora collects a few pounds then gives up and returns home for the night, via the off licence, where she has just enough for a 3 litre bottle of cider to tide her over until the morning.
Someone is hammering a fist on the front door. The man in the downstairs flat is shouting for them to shut up but the racket continues. He swears loudly as he gets up from his seat in front of the television and confronts the caller. The man thanks him and goes up to Dora’s room where he knocks politely. Rover immediately begins barking excitedly; he is desperate to get out and empty his distended bladder. Dora opens one eye, the other is stuck shut and she rubs at it. Stumbling to the door she opens it and squints at the blurred image.
Cashman steps inside and Jack immediately greets him, leaping up and scratching at the lapels of his mohair suit. ‘What do you want now?’ growls Dora, ‘can’t a person get any kip around here?’ She has a terrible hangover and is in no mood to see visitors.
Cashman pushes the dog away, brushes down his threads and explains that his Company want to use Jack in the advertising campaign. They are offering a huge amount of money for exclusive rights. Resisting the urge to accept immediately Dora instead decides to consult her son. As a lawyer he will surely know how to handle the deal without risking being ripped off.
Kevin is surprised, to say the least, when his mother shambles in to his swanky office with the dog in tow and the contract in her hand. He has been trying for years to drag her away from her pitiful existence now it seems the miracle is about to happen thanks to a stray dog, of all things.
Eager to make a new start with his one remaining parent, he reads the contract carefully. After making notes for suggested changes he arranges to meet this Cashman fellow and two days later, with the document signed and locked in his safe he again visits his mother’s hovel to pass on the good news.
The room seems tidier than on his last visit, Dora is wearing new clothes and has obviously made some attempt at cleaning herself up, which is a relief as Kevin has booked a half decent restaurant for their evening meal. As expected, Jack has not been invited but he is content to stay and guard the premises in the company of a huge dog chew and the double bed all to himself.
The waiter shows Kevin and Dora to their table, his nose twitching slightly as he moves the chair for Dora. He leaves them to peruse the menu and indicates for the wine waiter to attend. ‘We’ll have a bottle of the Chablis please,’ says Kevin, without even consulting his mother, but she can’t very well ask for a pint of strong cider in this place. They make their choices from the menu and Dora is relieved when the wine arrives. She takes a good gulp from her glass and relaxes a little as the alcohol begins to take effect. They have said barely a word to each other up until this point but one of them has to begin and it seems it will have to be Kevin.
‘So how have you been then?’ He asks for want of anything better to say. ‘Not so good until Jack came along,’ she replies, finishing her wine and looking pointedly at the waiter, who slides over and re-fills the glass. Kevin shakes his head as he goes to top up his glass also and he steps back into the shadows. ‘What happened to you? You used to be so smart and on top of things.’ Dora says he knows perfectly well what happened. ‘I just couldn’t take it anymore, not after that last Christmas. You broke my heart one time too many taking her side again. I have never met anyone as evil as that woman. I hope she rots in hell for what she put me through.’
Kevin is very red in the face as he thinks of his reply. ‘What she did to me as well,’ he reminds her, ‘I stood up for her because I believed her. How could anyone have guessed what a calculating, perfidious bitch she really is? But don’t worry: everybody knows now and nobody wants anything to do with her so I suppose she is rotting in hell in a way.’
Dora has finished another glass of wine and the waiter pours the last of it from the bottle to top her up again. Kevin glances up at him; ‘bring us another, will you?’ Dora needs to keep up her alcohol level to stop herself from exploding with rage. ‘I will never forgive her,’ she seethes. ‘Neither will I but we are rid of her now so we should get on with our lives and not let her continue to ruin our relationship.’
The food is served and they eat in silence, each chewing over the other’s words as much as the beautifully presented meal.
Kevin accepts a second glass of wine, mainly to stop his mother from drinking it all. ‘You know that if this advertising campaign is a success you could become a very wealthy woman,’ he says, ‘you will be able to buy a place of your own and move out of that hovel.’ Dora has not considered the possibility and a spark of life flickers into her eyes. ‘I could, couldn’t I?’
They finish their meal and return to Dora’s bedsit, where Rover greets her ecstatically. ‘I think he could do with a walk,’ she says, ‘thanks for the meal.’ Kevin follows them into the frosty night and gets back into the waiting cab. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ he promises.
Rover tows his human around their usual promenade, making his customary scent-marking stops along the way. Dora seems lost in thought, forgetting to go into the off-licence for her cider. Rover sits at the door, waiting; the bell sounds as a customer comes out of the shop and almost trips over him, cursing loudly at the mutt. Dora remembers where they are and goes in to make her nightly purchase: cider for herself and a bar of chocolate for ‘Jack’. They saunter home, but strangely, she is in no mood to open the bottle. Instead she sits on the side of the bed examining her reflection in the grimy mirror on the wall. She looks ancient, her teeth need cleaning and her hair could do with a cut and shampoo.
Rover gulps down the chocolate bar and climbs up onto the bed next to his human. She has managed to fall asleep without first getting plastered.
Cashman is astonished when Dora and Jack arrive for filming: she is clean and fresh with her hair newly styled and wearing clothes that fit. Jack is in fine form and eager to please. He does everything they ask of him and all for a few bits of biscuit. After six hours he has had enough and looks pleadingly at Dora. She too is exhausted and the director decides to wrap up for the day. Dora and Jack are sent home in a taxi, but she gets the driver to leave them at the common so they can stretch their legs. The crew food was rather good so neither of them is hungry but Dora is in great need of alcohol. She cannot understand why she feels guilty as she returns home with the bottle of cider and drinks the lot to help her get over the uncustomary twinge.
A lot has happened in the weeks since Cashman stumbled across his star and the whole country seems to be going crazy over the cute little dog that does the clever tricks.
During the evening television viewing at Rover’s old house the family are paying special attention to the insurance advert. ‘I’m sure that’s our Rover,’ says Katy, squinting at the screen to get a better look. ‘Nothing like him,’ scoffs Alan, all too aware she is probably right. ‘He even has that mole under his left eye,’ she continues, ‘look, there; oh, it’s gone.’ Alan says those dogs all look the same to him and offers to make a cup of tea to change the subject.
Keen to cash in on the success of his canine star, Cashman commissions a book detailing the mostly fictitious account of Jack’s life and sudden rise to fame and fortune. Cobbling together a few thousand words of sugary fantasy and padding the rest out with dozens of photographs, the book is rushed out in time for the Christmas market.
Soon Dora and Jack are being driven from shopping mall to shopping mall all over the country. Fans queue for hours to get the dog’s paw print on their first edition copies of the book, to the delight of all those involved. All those, except for Rover, who is finding the endless round of rushing about and being assaulted by strangers has become something of a nightmare.
Alan has discovered that Dora and Jack are due to make a personal appearance at a shopping mall twenty miles away. He tells Katy to expect him home late tonight because he has some extra work he must clear up; he then takes the new dog lead and collar which he bought in the morning and drives out to be first in the queue at the book signing.
Dora is having a bad day again and is not looking forward to being nice to the hundreds of noisy people who are angrily waiting when she and Jack turn up an hour late. She is suffering from an almighty hangover which the half bottle of brandy she drank in the taxi has failed to touch. Jack also is in low spirits. He has not been fed or groomed and his joints are stiff from his long journeys laying in one position and getting very little exercise.
The four security guards are having difficulty in keeping order. As the canine star appears with his dishevelled trainer in tow the crowd surge towards them. Chaos ensues with people pushing and shoving, children crying, Dora shouting obscenities and Jack yelping in panic. Somehow he manages to break free and out-run the pursuing melee. He slides over the polished marble tiles and barks in pain as his legs fly in all directions. At the end of the mall he almost crashes into the automatic doors but they open just in time for him to lurch through into the sweet cool air.
He runs and runs, away from the shopping centre, away from the mob, away from the now despised drunken Dora. Through the car park and out onto the ring-road he races, free at last. He fails to notice the silver car which is following him.
At last, out of breath, he flops down beneath a hedge, exhausted. The silver car slows, turns around and draws alongside. ‘Come on boy,’ coos a voice he has not heard for a long while, the voice of the traitor who abandoned him to his fate almost a year ago.
The car door opens and the smell of family rushes out to greet the wanderer. He remembers all the good times, the regular walks, proper food and daily grooming. He remembers lying with his back against the kitchen radiator and being made a fuss of by the children. Cautiously he climbs inside; Alan closes the door and removes the fancy collar and lead. A short way down the road he slows and throws them out where he hopes they will be found.
The family are overjoyed to have their pet returned to them after giving up hope months ago. Katy is not sure she believes Alan’s story of finding the dog at a rescue centre but she doesn’t care because their Rover is back home safe and sound. She even has to admit that he is not the dog in the adverts. Poor daft Rover cannot do the simplest of tricks but he is their daft dog and they love him.
For his part Rover has learned a very hard lesson; there will be no more clever tricks, not ever.
As for Dora, she sinks further into an alcoholic haze. Cashman announces the sad demise of Jack the Wonder Dog, whose collar and lead have been found near to a road-kill of indeterminate origin and the story is put out that he met his end in a tragic accident.
Dora does not live to see another Christmas but Rover has his best one ever.