‘Poor thing!’ said Jamie, and lifted the gun to end its suffering. It had a collar and tag with an engraved mobile phone number. Jane turned the disc round and read out loud ‘Max.’ On hearing its name, the dog’s ears pricked up; it opened its eyes weakly and whimpered.
‘Oh, God! Jamie, can’t we do something? D’you think we might be able to save him?’
‘Well, we’ve got to try. I can’t bring myself to shoot him while there’s a chance. Go back to the house: in the garage there’s a bin filled with rags, old sheets and blankets. Put some on the floor in the kitchen and get the stove fired up. I’ll carry him back.’
‘Okay,’ she replied and rushed off. Jamie stroked the dog’s side and scratched behind his ear; he whimpered again and his eyes opened. He tried lifting his head but was too weak.
‘Poor fellow! Come on, Max, let’s get you home and into the warm.’
He picked it up carefully, avoiding touching the wounds on its flank, then walked to the nearest steps up to the promenade and made his way back to the house. Kicking the gate shut behind him, he went down the path and into the kitchen. Jane had put a pile of sheets and blankets on the floor and was busy getting the stove going. He laid the dog down gently onto the blankets and then got his first-aid kit, a bottle of surgical spirit and cotton wool. He swabbed the wounds made by the gulls and the dog whimpered again at the sting of the spirit. Then he went into the bathroom and got his old beard trimmer, which he hadn’t used in months. The batteries were flat, so he fitted new ones and shaved the area around the wounds then put a few drops of iodine tincture onto them. He rubbed on some antiseptic cream and then stuck dressings over the wounds.
Jane had the fire going in the stove and flames were roaring away as she closed the doors. Jamie put a blanket over Max and stood up. ‘I’m going to shoot down to Warburtons, by Sainsbury’s, and get some dog food. There was a load in there when I went in earlier in the week for some things. Do you think he’ll be able to drink anything? He must be really dehydrated.’
‘I don’t know. I’ll put some water down by him and see if I can help him to drink. Water’s probably more important than food right now.’
‘Yes, you’re right, but I’ll still go down and get some food. If he survives the night he’s going to need it. I won’t be long.’
‘Okay.’
He got his car keys and a couple of shopping bags from the larder and left. He was there in a few minutes and parked outside, leaving the engine running. Under the counter were several bins of loose feed; a kind of doggy “pick ’n’ mix”. He scooped some from each bin into one bag, then filled the other with tins of dog food from the shelves and drove home.
Jane gave him a big smile as he walked in. ‘He’s managed to drink some water. I sprinkled a few drops over his nose and into his mouth and he licked his lips and opened his eyes. I lifted him slightly and held his head and he was able to drink from the bowl. It took him a few minutes, but he must have drunk at least a pint!’
‘Ah, well done! That’s good news, and a good sign. I don’t think we should give him any food just yet; what do you think?’
‘No; it might harm him at the moment as he’s dehydrated. If he survives the night and perks up by tomorrow, we’ll give him some. Right now, water is probably enough.’
Jamie put the dog food away in the larder then knelt down next to Max and stroked his head and sides. ‘Hello, mate. You hang in there. You’re a survivor, just like me and Jane.’ Max wagged his tail feebly in response.
Jane smiled and then went outside to prepare the pigeons for cooking. They soon had a casserole simmering on the stove, with a few herbs from the garden and some sea beet that Jamie picked, along with some lentils and rice thrown into the pot. He opened a bottle of red wine and poured them both a glass.
He raised his to Jane. ‘Here’s to Max; fingers crossed.’
‘To Max!’ she said and clinked glasses with him.
Eleven
Jamie couldn’t sleep. He was worried about Max and lay in bed for over an hour, tossing and turning. He loved animals and had always wanted a dog, but had never been in a position to have one. He would be a great companion for them and also useful, both as a guard dog and as a gun-dog if they went hunting for birds or rabbits; it was, after all, what Labradors had been bred for. He hoped Max pulled through: it would be an added responsibility for him and Jane, in terms of feeding him as well as themselves, but he felt the benefits outweighed that. Do dogs eat fish? He wasn’t sure. They needed to make a trip to the warehouse at Sainsbury’s anyway, so they could stock up on food for Max as well while they were there. He gave up trying to sleep, lit the candle by his bed then got up, put on his dressing gown and went into the kitchen.
Max raised his head to look at him as he entered, and whined. He tried to stand, but his legs were unsteady and he only made it to a sitting position, his tail wagging. His water bowl was empty so Jamie refilled it and he had another long drink, while he knelt down and stroked him. He patted the blanket and Max lay down again and curled up, looking up at him with his big eyes. He put the blanket back over him, opened the stove doors and raked the embers then threw another log in. He poured himself a small whisky, rolled a cigarette and sat at the table for ten minutes before going back to bed and falling asleep, feeling much happier.
When he awoke in the morning and went into the kitchen Jane was there already, making coffee. Max was sitting up on his blankets looking at him and wagging his tail.
‘Morning, Jane.’
‘Morning, Jamie. Well, look how much better our little guest is feeling!’
Jamie bent down and stroked Max, who wagged his tail harder and whined. ‘Wow! He looks so different to yesterday.’
‘That might have something to do with the tin of dog food he polished off about an hour ago!’
‘Really? That’s great!’
‘Did you get up in the night?’
‘Yes, I couldn’t sleep – worrying about him.’
‘I thought so; I saw the whisky out.’
‘He’d finished the water we put down before bed, so I refilled it.’
‘Well, he’d finished that as well when I got up, so that must be getting on for three pints he’s put away. He certainly needed it. I wonder how he got so dehydrated: I mean, he’s thin, but not scrawny, so he’s obviously been eating something.’
‘Well, his back legs are much weaker than his front; more so than could be attributed to just the wounds from the gulls’ beaks. It occurs to me now that the wounds were pretty deep. I didn’t think of it at the time I was cleaning them.’
‘You know what I think?’ said Jane. ‘I reckon he attacked something for food that fought back; maybe a small deer. Those wounds could have come from antlers and some deer, like muntjacs, have tusks. Could even have been from a wild boar; I believe there are large numbers in Sussex.’
‘Ah! That makes more sense; you’re probably right. Poor thing, but at least he’s starting to perk up.’ They looked down at Max, who seemed to know they were talking about him and wagged his tail.
While drinking their coffee they discussed things that needed doing for the week and made a list, which they pinned to a cork-board on the wall. They added another sheet of paper, headed Ideas! If either of them had a bright idea about something they could jot it down when they thought of it, for the other to see. Jamie went down to the sea to bathe, having missed the opportunity the previous evening due to finding Max, while Jane prepared breakfast.