Wanting

Maisie felt the wanting as an almost physical ache.  It was more than a want; it was a need.  And she felt her parents were cruel for not satisfying it.  A dog would complete her, matching her outgoing personality and endless curiosity, going happily along with her wildest adventures without question, loving her totally and exclusively.

Every Christmas and birthday for three years her response to the question, “What do you want?” was, “A puppy!”; but the answer always came back, “We just think you’re too young, darling.”.  Perhaps her parents thought she would grow out of it but she did not.

If anything, she became more obsessed.  She bought dog toys with her pocket money, borrowed library books on how to look after a dog, covered her bedroom walls with pictures of dogs, and watched endless videos on the internet – everything from rescued dogs to dogs playing with hosepipes.

She lay awake at night imagining her perfect puppy, all waggly tail, wet nose and sloppy tongue.  Sometimes, her puppy was a neat little dachshund, at other times a rough and tumble terrier, and at others a fluffy, floppy retriever.  But always it was at her heels, following her everywhere.  Some nights, the grief at not having her perfect companion would overwhelm her and she would cry herself to sleep.  At other times, the happiness she knew she would feel when she finally had her dog was enough to transport her from imagination to dreams without her noticing the difference.

Now her tenth birthday was approaching, a landmark in anyone’s life.  If being ‘in double figures’ as her grandmother phrased it did not make her old enough to have a puppy, what would?  She knew all there was to know about raising and caring for a dog; she even had a list of essential equipment she would purchase the moment her parents agreed to her request.

Every day, she got up in the morning waiting for the usual question and every night she went to bed puzzled that it had not been asked.  It was impossible that her parents had forgotten it was nearly her birthday.  If anyone knew, it was them!  Even her grandmother, until now her most sympathetic listener on the subject, had failed to ring her to sympathise.

It was the Saturday before her birthday and the question still had not come.  There had not even been a mention of cakes or parties.  Something strange was most definitely going on.

Her father roused her unreasonably early for a Saturday, at least Maisie felt so.  He hurried her to get washed and dressed and plonked her breakfast unceremoniously in front of her, then vanished upstairs.  There was no sign at all of her mother.  Switching on the television, she split her attention equally between the cartoons and her cereal but not really enjoying either.

Suddenly, she heard her father’s feet on the stairs.  “Haven’t you finished, yet?” he asked, looking at the half-full bowl.  “Eat up!  And turn the telly off.  And get your shoes on.”

“Where’s Mum?” she asked around a spoonful of cereal.

“On her way.  Come on!”

His sense of urgency transmitted itself to her despite her resolution to take her time and within a few minutes she was ready.  Just as she was about to ask about her mother again, the horn of their car tooted from outside.

“Here she is!” exclaimed her father almost pushing her out of the front door.

They both got into the car and her mother drove off.  Maisie tried asking where they were going but got only mysterious smiles in reply.  Her parents did not speak to each other, which was unusual.  Just one more strangeness in this strangest of days.

About half-an-hour later, they turned through a gate with a sign outside it that said, “RSPCA”.  There was a short road and then they parked in the almost empty carpark.  The unmistakable sound of barking reached her ears.

She looked her question at her parents and they both grinned at her.  “Yes,” said her mother, “we’re here to adopt a puppy.”

“And only one,” her father added meaningfully, but Maisie did not hear him.  She was already running through the door.