Out of the Hitler Time trilogy: When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, Bombs on Aunt Dainty, A Small Person Far Away. Judith Kerr
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white. It seemed an eccentric thing even for Pumpel to wish for.
“Why does he want it?” she asked.
“Well, of course he doesn’t realize it’s a bulb,” Omama explained patiently. “He thinks it’s a tennis ball and he wants me to throw it for him.”
Pumpel, sensing that his needs were at last being taken seriously, bowed and barked with redoubled vigour.
Anna laughed. “Poor Pumpel,” she said and tried to stroke him – but he immediately snapped at her hand with his yellow teeth. She withdrew it quickly.
“We could unscrew the bulb,” said Mama, but it was stuck fast in its socket and would not be moved.
“Perhaps if we had a real tennis ball …” said Omama, searching for her purse. “Anna darling, would you mind? I think the shops are still open.”
“Tennis balls are quite expensive,” said Anna. She had once wanted to buy one with her pocket money but had not had nearly enough.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Omama, “I can’t leave poor Pumpel like this – he’ll exhaust himself.”
But when Anna returned Pumpel had lost interest in the whole business. He was lying on the floor growling, and when Anna placed the ball gingerly between his paws he gave it a look of utter loathing and sank his teeth straight into it. The tennis ball expired with a sigh. Pumpel got up, scratched the floor twice with his hind feet, and retired under the bed.
“He really is a horrible dog,” Anna later told Max. “I don’t know how Omama puts up with him.”
“I wish we had the money for the tennis ball,” said Max. “We could use it at the fair.”
There was a fair coming to the village – an annual event which the local children were very excited about. Franz and Vreneli had been saving up their pocket money for months. Somehow Anna and Max had only just heard about it, and as they had no savings they did not see how they could go. Their combined assets would just about pay for one ride on the roundabout – and that, said Anna, would be worse than not going at all.
She had thought briefly of asking Mama for some money. This was after her first day back at school when no one had talked about anything except the fair and how much money they would have to spend. But Max had reminded her that Mama was trying to economize. If they were going to live in Paris they would need every penny for the move.
Meanwhile Pumpel, though no one could call him lovable, made life a lot more interesting. He had no sense at all. Even Omama, who was used to his ways, was surprised. When she took him on a steamer he made straight for the side and was only restrained with difficulty from throwing himself overboard. The next time she wanted to go to Zurich she tried to take him on the train, but he refused to get on it. However, as soon as the train pulled out of the station, leaving Omama and Pumpel on the platform, he tore himself free from his lead and pursued it, barking wildly, right down the line to the next village. He was brought back exhausted an hour later by a small boy and had to rest for the remainder of the day.
“Do you think there’s something wrong with his eyesight?” asked Omama.
“Nonsense, Mother,” said Mama who felt she had more important worries, what with possibly moving to Paris and having no money. “Anyway, even if there is you can’t buy him spectacles!”
It was a shame because Omama, in spite of being silly about Pumpel, was really very kind. She too was a refugee but her husband was not famous like Papa. They had been able to move all their belongings out of Germany and now lived comfortably by the Mediterranean. Unlike Mama, she did not have to economize, and often devised little treats which Mama would not normally have been able to afford.
“I suppose we couldn’t ask Omama to give us some money for the fair?” said Anna one day after Omama had bought them all éclairs at the local cake shop.
Max was horrified. “Anna! We couldn’t!” he said quite sharply.
Anna had known really that they couldn’t – only it was so tempting. The fair was only about a week away.
A few days before Omama was due to travel back to the South of France, Pumpel disappeared. He had escaped from Omama’s room early in the morning and she had thought nothing of it. He often went for a sniff round the lake and usually came back quite quickly of his own accord. But by breakfast time he was still missing and she began to ask people whether they had seen him.
“Whatever has he got up to now?” asked Herr Zwirn. He did not like Pumpel who upset his other customers, chewed the furniture and had twice tried to bite Trudi.
“Sometimes he seems to act just like a puppy,” said Omama fondly, though Pumpel was nine years old.
“It’s more like his second childhood,” said Herr Zwirn.
The children searched for him half-heartedly, but it was nearly time to go to school and they were sure that sooner or later he would turn up – probably accompanied by an angry victim whom he had either bitten or whose property he had destroyed. Vreneli came to call for Anna and they set off for school, and Anna promptly forgot all about him. When they returned at lunch-time they were met by Trudi with an air of great importance.
“They found your grandmother’s dog,” she said. “He’s drowned.”
“Nonsense!” said Vreneli. “You’re making it up.”
“I’m not making it up,” said Trudi, outraged. “It’s true – Pa found him in the lake. And I’ve seen him myself and he’s quite dead. One reason I knew he was dead was because he didn’t try to bite me.”
Mama confirmed Trudi’s story. Pumpel had been found at the bottom of a low wall at the edge of the lake. No one ever discovered how he got there – whether he had leapt down in a fit of madness or mistaken one of the large pebbles in the water for a tennis ball. Herr Zwirn suggested that it might have been suicide.
“I’ve heard of dogs doing that,” he said, “when they’re no good to themselves or to anyone else.”
Poor Omama was dreadfully upset. She did not come down to lunch and only appeared, red-eyed and silent, for Pumpel’s funeral in the afternoon. Herr Zwirn dug a little grave for him in a corner of the garden. Omama had wrapped Pumpel up in an old shawl and the children all stood by while she put him in his last resting place. Then, under Omama’s direction, they each threw a shovelful of soil on top of him. Herr Zwirn briskly threw on a whole lot more and then flattened and shaped it into a low mound.
“Now for the decoration,” said Herr Zwirn, and Omama tearfully placed a large plant-pot with a chrysanthemum on top.
Trudi watched her approvingly.
“Now your doggie can’t get out!” she said with obvious satisfaction.
This was too much for Omama and to the children’s embarrassment she burst into tears and had to be led away by Herr Zwirn.
The rest of the day was rather gloomy. Nobody really minded about poor Pumpel except Omama, but they all felt they owed it to her not to look too cheerful. After supper Max went off to do his homework while Anna and Mama kept Omama company.
She had hardly said a word all day, but now she suddenly could not stop talking. On and on she went about Pumpel and all the things he used to do. How could she face travelling back to the South of France without him? He had been such good company on the train. She even had his return ticket – both Mama and Anna had to inspect it. It was all the fault of the Nazis, cried Omama. If Pumpel had not had to leave Germany he would never have drowned in Lake Zurich. That dreadful man Hitler.
After this Mama gradually turned the talk into the usual list of people who had gone to live in different countries or had stayed behind and Anna began to read, but her book was not very interesting and bits of the conversation kept filtering through.
Somebody had got a job in films in England. Somebody