A small problem

Jeffrey did not bring Daisy back first thing in the morning. He did not bring her back second thing in the morning, either. Nor did he bring her back in the third. In fact, it was approaching midday and there was no sign of the dog or the farm hand.

Groans could be heard from the office, now. Tyron was waking and, by the sounds, waking with an almighty hangover. This was normal. Waking to find their breeding dam gone, however, was not.

Runt began practising excuses frantically. He needed some kind of cover story to avoid being flogged. Could she have escaped? Perhaps Jeffrey threatened him, or pushed him aside and stole Daisy by force? Perhaps he was asleep the whole time and didn’t realise she was gone? Could he act surprised like that? Maybe he should just run away?

He almost cried out in relief when he heard a rap at the door (a much more civilised knock than the one from the night before) and the friendly yap of his favourite dog. Runt forgot his fears and ran to the door. Flinging it open, Daisy bowled him over and began licking his face. He quickly got up again and fixed his hair. Jeffrey stood above him with crossed arms.

“I brought your dog back.”

“Thanks.”

“Fat lot of help she was. Bloody useless.”

Runt did not reply. Jeffrey pushed on.

“Bloody useless mutt. Wouldn’t come when I called. Wouldn’t bark when I said. Didn’t even chase the wolf. Are you listening to me?”

Runt nodded.

“She just sat there and watched! And the blasted wolf came over to her and d’you know what? She just bloody wandered off with it. Into the Wilds! I spend all morning near the edge of the woods yelling for her. Thought she was a goner. Thought she was snuffed. Then, out of nowhere, she just trots up, all chirpy and fine, and follows me back here!”

Runt stared at his feet.

“Are you listening? She was bloody hopeless!” A finger was now being waved in Runt’s direction.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Are the sheep ok?” Runt whispered. “How many lambs did you lose?”

“Wait, what? Well, none. Like I said, the wolf left. But that’s not the point!” Jeffrey’s face went beetroot red. “The point is – “

“Will you shut up!?!?” Tyron roared, sitting up in his bed, grimacing and clutching his head. Bleary eyes opened a crack to see a tall gangly youth with his finger extended threateningly at Runt.

“Runt! Get out back! And you,” he yelled, stumbling to his feet, “come back later!” The door slammed in Jeffrey’s face and, by the time the boss turned around, Runt and Daisy were nowhere to be seen.

Nearly two months passed before Runt realised there was going to be a problem. The night sky covered everything in dark. He lay against Daisy in her kennel and prepared for sleep.

A tiny paw poked him in the back of the head.

Runt rolled over and sat up. Daisy snored faintly as she slept. He gently lay his hand on her belly. Another bump, a twitch, and a wriggle. He almost imagined the sound of a tiny heartbeat.

Two weeks later the puppy was born. Just one. Of course, fate would have it that Gunther was there. He and Tyron were on their third bottle of grog. They stood outside the kennel looking down at the new mother.

“You can’t keep it,” Gunther drawled, “you’ll lose the kennels. You’ll get chased out of town. Go grab a sack and we’ll chuck it in the creek. They don’t feel nothin’ when they’re little.”

“Dunno.” Tyron frowned.

“Bugger it, gimme a brick and I’ll dong it now. Get the runt to dig a hole out in the muck yard. But do it now. You gotta get rid of it.”

“Yeah?” The bearish man looked slowly down at his empty hands as if expecting a brick to appear.

“Look, just find a bucket and fill it with water. They can’t swim when they’re fresh born. It won’t even make a noise.”

Runt, listening to these horrible instructions while crouched in Daisy’s kennel, did something different for the first time in his life. He argued.

“Don’t kill him!” he yelled, clutching the puppy. “We’ve got a spare kennel. And I’ll look after him. I’ll do everything. I’ll even find food for him.”

Gunther bristled and instinctively pulled his hand back to strike despite being nowhere near the boy. Runt stared back fiercely. The stablemaster, squinting slit-eyed at Tyron, pointed a shaking finger at the pup and made a slashing motion across his throat. Tyron just stared away, deep in thought.

“Nahhhhh. Gonna keep it. Could make a mean killer when it grows up. Or we could use it as bait. Need to paint it or something, though. Before anyone sees.”

Runt beamed up at the giant man and hugged the puppy tightly. It wriggled free and stood, wagging its tail, then sneezed and shook its fur which, from shoulder to rump, was covered in the vertical stripes of a wolf.