Guide dogs

Barry and Marmaduke had been in Reception for exactly long enough to discover three important facts about school.

First, glue sticks were apparently a precious national resource, because teachers guarded them like dragons guarding treasure.

Second, the phrase “walking feet” suggested there were secret “running feet” hidden somewhere, just waiting for the right opportunity.

Third, if Mrs Abraham smiled in a mysterious way at morning registration, something exciting was about to happen.

This particular Wednesday, Mrs Abraham was smiling so broadly she looked as though she’d won the lottery.

Barry nudged Marmaduke.

“Someone’s getting cake.”

Marmaduke gasped.

“Do you think it’s us?”

Mrs Abraham clapped her hands for quiet in Reception assembly. 

“Good morning, Reception!”

“GOOD MORNING!”

“We have some very special visitors coming today.”

Twenty-odd tiny faces stared.

Barry immediately put his hand up.

“Is it dinosaurs?”

“No.”

“A pirate?”

“No.”

“The King?”

“No.”

“A fire engine?”

“No.”

“A shark?”

“…No.”

Mrs Abraham paused.

“But I will give you a clue.”

The children leaned forward.

“They have four legs.”

“Tables!” shouted one child.

“Cows!” yelled another.

“My uncle Gary!” announced somebody at the back.

Mrs Abraham took a deep breath.

“They’re alive.”

Barry’s eyes became enormous.

“DRAGONS?”

Mrs Abraham laughed.

“I’m afraid not.”

Then Mrs Stewart appeared in the doorway.

“Children, before our guests arrive, boys, please take your ties off. Girls, could you tie your hair back, please?”

The room exploded into whispers.

Barry stared at his tie.

“We’re allowed?”

Mrs Abraham nodded.

“Yes.”

Barry removed it with the dramatic seriousness of a bomb disposal expert.

Marmaduke copied him.

“This must be VERY exciting.”

Alfie, meanwhile, was upstairs in Year 4.

His class was learning about fractions.

Nobody had asked anyone to remove a tie.

Nobody had mysterious visitors.

Sometimes life was desperately unfair.

Barry whispered to Marmaduke as they lined up.

“What do you think it is?”

“Horses?”

“Maybe.”

“They’ve got four legs.”

“They won’t fit.”

“They might be little horses.”

Barry considered this.

“Pocket horses.”

“I’d like a pocket horse.”

Mrs Abraham led the children down the corridor.

Between the two Reception classrooms was a smaller room normally used for reading, phonics help and quiet work with teachers.

Today its door stood open.

Something was making tiny squeaky noises.

Barry sniffed.

“It smells funny.”

“It smells like mushrooms,” whispered Marmaduke.

“It does!”

The teachers smiled.

“Ready?”

The children nodded.

And then—

“Ohhhhhhh…”

“Awwww!”

“LOOK!”

“OH MY GOODNESS!”

Even the teachers couldn’t help smiling.

Fifteen Labrador puppies bounced, waddled, rolled, stretched, yawned and investigated absolutely everything within a giant play pen erected in the room.

Some were glossy black.

Some were buttery yellow.

And three were the most beautiful fox-red colour, like toasted marshmallows.

Tiny tails wagged furiously.

Little ears flopped.

One puppy sat down and immediately fell asleep.

Another discovered someone’s shoelace was clearly the greatest invention in human history.

Barry completely forgot how to breathe.

“Puppies…”

Guide Dogs volunteers laughed.

“These puppies are fourteen weeks old.”

One volunteer knelt down.

“They’re all training to become Guide Dogs one day.”

Barry whispered to Marmaduke,

“They’re heroes.”

Marmaduke nodded without looking away.

“They’re furry heroes.”

Before anyone could rush forward, Mrs Abraham reminded them of the rules.

“We use gentle hands.”

“We stay calm.”

“We let the puppies choose to come to us.”

“We don’t pick them up.”

“We wash our hands really well when we leave them.”

Barry nodded so hard his fringe bounced.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“So will I,” said Marmaduke.

The children were split into four groups of ten. 30 children walked quietly out of the classroom to take their turns later in the day. 

Barry and Marmaduke found themselves in the first group, sitting cross-legged on the carpet.

One of the fox-red Labradors wandered over.

He looked at Barry.

Barry looked at him.

The puppy walked straight into Barry’s lap.

That was it.

Barry looked utterly betrayed.

Barry’s heart officially melted into strawberry jelly.

Some lessons take longer than others. Some, in fact, continue until adulthood—just ask anyone who’s ever walked past a Labrador puppy and confidently declared, “No, we are absolutely not getting a dog.”

“Oh…”

The puppy sighed happily.

Barry stroked his ears.

“They’re velvet.”

“They’re softer than my teddy,” whispered Marmaduke.

The puppy wandered onto Marmaduke’s lap too.

Apparently he wasn’t interested in choosing between them.

Very diplomatic.

The volunteers explained everything.

Guide Dog puppies learned lots of things while they were young.

How to meet people politely.

How to ignore loud noises.

How to stay calm around children.

How to walk nicely on a lead.

How not to steal sandwiches.

“Do they ever steal sandwiches?” Barry asked.

The volunteer smiled.

“They certainly try.”

Barry nodded.

“I knew it.”

Another puppy rolled onto his back with all four paws in the air.

“I think this one has forgotten gravity,” laughed Mrs Stewart.

One black puppy attempted to carry a shoe that was clearly larger than his entire body.

A yellow puppy yawned so dramatically everyone laughed.

Another quietly fell asleep halfway through chewing a toy.

The volunteer smiled.

“They’re pretending they’re not tired.”

“They’re awake,” Barry said.

“For now,” replied the volunteer.

Within thirty seconds the puppy was asleep.

The children giggled.

“They’re just like little children,” Mrs Abraham whispered.

The teachers exchanged knowing looks.

Parents everywhere would have nodded so enthusiastically they risked whiplash.

Barry had completely fallen in love.

So had Marmaduke.

The fox-red Labrador had decided they were excellent cushions.

His head rested on Barry’s leg.

His tail gently thumped against Marmaduke’s trainers.

Barry whispered,

“I’m calling him Sausage.”

“You can’t.”

“Why?”

“He already has a name.”

“Oh.”

The volunteer smiled.

“His name is Maple.”

Barry considered this.

“That’s even better.”

Marmaduke whispered,

“I love Maple.”

“I love him more.”

“I loved him first.”

“You met him at exactly the same time.”

“Oh.”

That was difficult to argue with.

Halfway through the session, Maple wandered off to investigate another child.

“He doesn’t love me anymore.”

Mrs Abraham smiled.

“I think he’s just making new friends.”

Maple then returned and licked Barry’s hand.

Barry beamed.

“He remembered.”

“He probably remembered your biscuit crumbs,” whispered Mrs Abraham.

Barry looked offended.

“I washed.”

“I’m sure you did.”

Soon the volunteers announced it was puppy nap time.

Collectively, fifteen Labradors suddenly transformed from energetic whirlwinds into floppy puddles.

Blankets appeared.

Tiny snores began.

One puppy twitched while dreaming.

Another made tiny squeaking noises.

The room became unbelievably quiet.

The Reception children watched in complete silence.

Mrs Abraham blinked.

She’d never seen this happen before.

Neither had Mrs Stewart.

One volunteer whispered,

“They need lots of sleep to help them grow.”

Barry whispered back,

“My mum says that.”

“She’s right.”

Barry frowned thoughtfully.

“I don’t like naps.”

The volunteer smiled.

“The puppies probably don’t either.”

Barry looked at Maple.

“He doesn’t look cross.”

“No.”

“He looks… cosy.”

The next group came in while Barry’s group returned to class.

For the rest of the morning nobody could concentrate.

Instead of drawing castles…

…children drew Labradors.

Instead of writing their names…

…they attempted to spell “adorable.”

Some managed.

Some produced words that looked like somebody had sneezed alphabet spaghetti onto the page.

Mrs Abraham accepted every effort.

At lunchtime Barry found Alfie.

“You MISSED PUPPIES!”

Alfie looked horrified.

“What?”

“FIFTEEN.”

“What?”

“Guide Dog puppies!”

“What?”

Barry repeated the story at approximately seventeen thousand words per minute.

Alfie listened carefully.

“They came to Reception?”

“Yes!”

“You got to stroke them?”

“YES!”

“What colour?”

“Black, yellow and fox red!”

“What did they smell like?”

“MUSHROOMS!”

Alfie paused.

“Mushrooms?”

“I know.”

“That’s unexpected.”

Barry sighed happily.

“I love Maple.”

“You’ve known him thirty minutes.”

“I know.” Alfie didn’t have the heart to say, “So you’re bored of Snowball already?” Of all the Brands, Barry was the most emotionally invested in Snowball.

“I think that’s enough.”

That afternoon every Reception child received a little sticker saying:

I Met Future Guide Dogs Today

Barry treated it as though it were made of gold.

Marmaduke refused to stick his on.

“I’m keeping it forever.”

“Where?”

“My pocket.”

“It’ll get squashed.”

“…Oh.”

Eventually, the volunteers thanked everyone.

The puppies woke from their naps.

Tiny tails wagged again.

The children lined up.

Each child got one final gentle stroke.

Barry crouched beside Maple.

“I wish you lived with me.”

Maple licked his nose.

Barry giggled.

“You could sleep in my room.”

Mrs Abraham smiled.

“I think Maple already has an important job.”

Barry nodded sadly.

“I know.”

“He’ll help someone.”

“I know.”

“But…”

He hugged his own knees.

“I’ll miss him.”

Marmaduke’s bottom lip started wobbling.

“I don’t want him to go.”

The volunteer knelt beside them.

“You know something?”

“What?”

“One day Maple might help somebody cross a busy road.”

Barry listened.

“He might help someone find the bus.”

Marmaduke sniffed.

“Really?”

“He might help somebody feel brave enough to go shopping on their own.”

Barry looked at Maple again.

“So…”

“He’s going to make someone’s life much happier.”

Barry thought very hard.

That was difficult to argue with.

Still…

His eyes filled with tears. It had been a busy week for Barry and pets.

“So he’s… somebody else’s best friend?”

The volunteer smiled gently.

“Yes.”

Barry gave Maple one last stroke.

“I think they’ll be lucky.”

Marmaduke couldn’t hold it together any longer.

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I don’t want lucky people.”

Mrs Abraham handed him a tissue.

“I want Maple.”

Barry started crying too.

Not loudly.

Just the sad sort of crying that happens when your heart is bigger than your words.

Even a few teachers looked suspiciously like they had something in their eyes.

Probably dust.

Very emotional dust.

That evening Mr and Mrs Brand were both attempting to finish work calls while making dinner.

“How was school?” Mrs Brand mouthed.

Barry answered with unusual seriousness.

“There were puppies.”

“We heard.”

“I loved one.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I can’t ever see him again.”

Mrs Brand looked over her laptop.

“Oh.”

“He has to help blind people.”

“That’s a wonderful thing.”

Barry nodded sadly.

“I know.”

There was a long silence.

Then he asked the question every parent could see coming from approximately the M25.

“So, if Snowball can’t live with another cat, could I…

Mrs Brand smiled carefully.

“No.”

“But I didn’t ask.”

“You were about to.”

“…Maybe.”

Mr Brand laughed.

“The answer is still no. Snowball would hate a puppy right now!”

Barry sighed.

“What if one accidentally followed me home?”

“No.”

“What if he got lost? … I will explain to Snowball.”

“No.”

“What if—”

“No.”

Barry slumped dramatically onto his chair.

“This family has no imagination.”

Alfie looked up from his homework.

“I think what Dad means is that Guide Dogs for the Blind charity need the puppies.”

Barry sighed again.

“I know.”

After another thoughtful silence, he smiled.

“I hope Maple becomes the best Guide Dog ever.”

“So do I,” said Alfie.

“So do I,” said Mum.

“So do I,” said Dad.

Barry looked out of the window as the evening sun turned the sky the same warm fox-red colour as Maple’s fur.

He still wished, just a little bit, that Maple could have stayed.

But somewhere, one day, someone would hold the harness of a grown-up Guide Dog who had once been a sleepy puppy that smelt faintly of mushrooms and had curled up on a little boy’s lap in a Reception classroom in London.

Barry decided that was a pretty brilliant job.

Even if it did mean saying goodbye.

And for a four-year-old, who normally believed every wonderful thing should belong to him immediately, that was actually rather grown up.

He still asked for a puppy every single day for the next fortnight, of course.

History suggests that’s exactly how many family dogs begin. Last weekend brought a cat. Mr Brand was standing firm on this one!