The Spuddy Read Online Free Page B

keel; the sweet run of the seams, and the whole resulting in an impression of rightness; of strength and of fitness for the continual combat with the sea, he thought how beautiful she was. Uncle Ben, who had been observing him, took his pipe out of his mouth to say, ‘Aye, a boat’s a beautiful thing, boy,’ to which Andy replied by running his own hands along the planks and smiling rapt agreement. He knew now that no longer would he be content to draw boats: he wanted to go to sea and he wanted to go in a boat just like this one he was admiring.
    The church clock striking twelve reminded them it was time for their dinner and in the leisurely way of a devoted craftsman Uncle Ben put away his tools. Together they left the slip, climbed up to the quay and made for home. As they turned into the street the first thing Andy saw was a large van parked outside the empty house and men unloading furniture from it. ‘Where’s the Spuddy?’ he thought in a panic and was angry with himself for having forgotten his intention of looking for the dog. Andy dawdled, letting his uncle go in front of him. He stood by the gate gaping at the activity. Foolishly he had let himself think that the house would remain empty; that the Spuddy would continue to visit and sleep there and thus be accessible to further overtures of friendship. But new people meant complications. New people might have a dog of their own or they might dislike dogs altogether and what would happen then? It was at that moment he saw the Spuddy.
    The Spuddy had spent the morning doing his usual rounds of the pier and the kipper yard but when he had heard the clock strike twelve habit had turned him in the direction of his former home. He was not expecting to find his meal put out for him but he thought he might just as well make sure. When he saw the furniture van and strange people going in and out of the house he had sufficient intelligence to realise he was unlikely to be welcome there but he felt he could risk slipping round to the back to see if his bowl was in the accustomed place beside the coal shed. It was, but it was empty of everything save a few drops of rain and the lingering smell of yesterday’s food. He licked it more to assert ownership than for the meat-tainted moisture but even as he did so a red-haired woman appeared and amid a shrill stream of invective hurled a stone which hit the path beside him. Ruffled but still dignified the Spuddy retreated to the other side of the street and at what he judged to be a safe distance he sat down to keep an eye on the proceedings. As he did so there was a clang against the kerb a few feet away from him. It was his empty feeding bowl. The Spuddy was still sitting there, half obscured by the bulky van, when Andy spotted him. Immediately he ran towards him and putting a gentle hand on the dog’s head crouched down and let his arm slide down until it was around the dog’s neck. The Spuddy’s response was a cursory lick on the ear which might have become more fervent had not the red-haired woman emerged from the house to scream at Andy not to encourage the beast. She wasn’t going to have it hanging around her place, she yelled, as she re-entered the house and shut the door. Andy, catching sight of the empty bowl in the gutter and guessing why it was there knew that unless he could help him the Spuddy was going to be in a hazardous position. As he retrieved the bowl he heard his aunt’s voice scolding him for his slowness and urging him to come for his dinner. With an encouraging pat on the Spuddy’s head Andy left him and followed his aunt inside. When the meal was over and she had cleared away he showed her the Spuddy’s empty bowl, mutely asking her for scraps.
    â€˜Indeed no!’ she declared firmly. ‘I’m not giving you food to take to that dog. He should have been put down before his own folks went away and it’s only a matter of time before