A Puppy Called Hugo. Fiona Harrison
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to adore them and immediately put them in pride of place in the front windowsill.
Doreen and Eric’s new house was only a ten minute walk from Gail and Simon’s and was what I heard lots of people describe as a new-build. I had never been inside a bungalow before and wasn’t sure what it was. Yet my quick scamper around with Doreen as she gave us all a guided tour told me that the only difference between a house and a bungalow was that there were no stairs. It was, it appeared to me, like Sal and Peg’s flat, just a bit bigger and with a huge garden they didn’t have to share with other people.
Watching my owner’s lovely mum and dad proudly take us from sunny room to sunny room, I glanced at each of them, noticing the happiness they basked in. Doreen was petite with hair in a neat bob and a warm, open face. As for Eric, well he was the double of Gail, with his chestnut hair that was now almost grey all over, and friendly, welcoming face that always made me feel at home.
As well as the huge garden there were three bedrooms, a bathroom, glass like in a greenhouse that Doreen reliably informed us was a conservatory, whatever that was, along with a huge kitchen and a funny-looking worktop that stood in the centre of the room.
‘That’s my island,’ Doreen told us proudly, as she brought the tour to a close.
‘It’s beautiful, Mum.’ Gail smiled.
‘So pretty,’ breathed Jenny.
‘Very nice,’ put in Sal, her blue eyes filled with admiration as she stroked the dark surface. ‘It’s lovely how it matches the slate tiles.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?’ chirruped Doreen, her silver hair gleaming in the sunshine-filled room.
‘You wouldn’t, dear,’ Eric grumbled good-naturedly at his wife. ‘Shall I make tea?’
Doreen nodded her assent. ‘Good idea. Let’s all go through to the living room before we get stuck into some unpacking.’
As we turned to follow Doreen out of the room, I couldn’t help wonder if I was missing something. I turned to Peg who was standing in the doorway with Hugo beside her.
‘I thought islands were things surrounded by water,’ I yapped in curiosity.
Peg nodded sagely, her blonde fur jiggling almost as much as her lovely jowls. ‘They are. That’s why you never want to get stuck on one. Unless it’s England of course, that’s quite big.’
I turned back to the island and looked at the floor and tiles suspiciously.
‘I’ve got it!’ I barked in excitement. ‘Doreen’s going to put the water around the island separately.’
‘That’s why it’s important the tiles match,’ Peg put in wisely. ‘It all makes sense now.’
‘Does that mean we’ll go on boat trips then, Daddy?’ Hugo asked, his pace matching mine as we joined the others in the lounge. ‘Will I need to learn to swim?’
I nodded. ‘I think there’s every chance you’ll need to do that, Hugo. But don’t worry, us pugs are natural swimmers, you’ll be doggy-paddling around Doreen’s island like there’s no tomorrow.’
Pleased to have solved that little problem, I looked around. There was no denying it, the place looked as chaotic as Gail and Simon’s when we left it.
There were boxes everywhere, all piled on top of one another in various states of disarray. Some were half open, some had contents like duvets, pillowcases, lampshades and even cutlery spilling out and some had been emptied, flung to a corner of the room, to be dealt with some other time.
I looked across at Peg and saw her glance at the upended cardboard. She was rather partial to curling up in a box for a nap, just like me. For a moment I imagined the two of us snoozing the afternoon away nestled in the warmth of each other. But no, there was work to do. Shaking my head to free myself from such thoughts, I glanced up at Gail, who rewarded me with a beaming smile, just as Doreen came through from the kitchen. She was clutching a tray piled high with tea and cakes and I saw with delight Eric appear just behind her, carrying goodies for all us pugs.
‘Water and a bone for you all,’ he said, setting the treats on the floor.
‘Thanks, Eric,’ I woofed along with Peg.
We turned to Hugo to remind him of his manners. Only to find he had started on the chewy treats already.
I opened my mouth, about to tell him off, when Peg beat me to it.
‘Hugo, that’s enough,’ she yapped. ‘Do not show me and your father up in public. You know you don’t eat a treat without saying thank you.’
At the sound of the sternness in his mother’s bark, Hugo dropped his bone to the floor in horror. I could see the fear radiating from his eyes.
‘Oh, Peg, don’t be too harsh on him,’ I whined, my heart full of concern for my poor boy. ‘He’s poorly, he’s not himself.’
Hugo rewarded me with a gentle rub on my snout as he looked apologetically at his mother who was settled by the fireplace.
Peg gave me a lick as she gestured for Hugo to continue. ‘Maybe you’re right, Percy. Perhaps I am being too hard on him. But, honestly, why is he so badly behaved all the time? Is it us? Are we doing something wrong?’
Before I could answer, I saw Hugo had lost interest in the bone and was charging up and down the living room, wagging his tail, scampering through the boxes.
‘Hugo!’ I ordered. ‘Calm down.’
Only my barks fell on deaf ears once more as Hugo darted over to Doreen, who had her hands full of teacups, and jumped up at her.
‘Easy now, love.’ She smiled down at my son. ‘You nearly had me over.’
Hugo didn’t reply. Instead, he charged away from Doreen and rushed over to Eric who was sitting in a chair by the windowsill trying to do the crossword he had found wrapped around a plate.
‘Eric! Eric!’ Hugo barked playfully, sitting at the older man’s feet.
Eric lowered his paper and beamed at my son affectionately before scratching his ear. ‘Hello, Hugo. Heard you ate some potpourri. Can’t say I blame you, it’s all it’s good for.’
‘That’s what I thought!’ Hugo replied, thwacking the floor with his little tail.
‘Did us a favour, boy. Can’t abide the stuff,’ Eric grunted with alarming honesty, causing Simon to burst out laughing.
‘What did I tell you?’ he chuckled, turning to Gail. ‘I said Eric wouldn’t be interested in all that smelly nonsense!’
Jenny sighed and shook her head in mock-exasperation at her father. ‘Dad! It is not nonsense, it’s stuff to make your house pretty.’
‘You tell him, Jen.’ Gail giggled, as she sat cross-legged on the floor and bit into one of the cupcakes her mother had laid out on a plate.
‘So did I really do you a favour, Eric?’ Hugo barked, his eyes shining with pleasure at the thought of one of his actions doing someone a good turn.
‘You can knock a bowl of potpourri over for me anytime.’ He smiled and gave Hugo one last affectionate pat on the head, before turning back to his crossword.
Clearly moved, Hugo jumped up onto Eric’s lap, determined to give Gail’s dad a cuddle filled with gratitude. Yet the sudden movement left me wide-eyed with horror as, despite Hugo having the best of intentions, my boy had jumped on top of Eric’s lap with such gusto he sent the vase filled with Gail’s fresh flowers cascading all over Eric.
‘Oh you dammed dog!’ Eric howled, clearly soaked through. ‘What were you doing?’
‘Is it like the island?’ Hugo barked excitedly. ‘Will I need to swim?’
I rushed over to my son, determined