LITMIR.BIZ

Copyright

      First published in Great Britain by Collins in 2001

      Collins

       An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      Text copyright © Jean Ure 2001

      Illustrations by Maggie Ling 2001

      Jean Ure and Maggie Ling assert the moral right to be identified as author and illustrator of the work.

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      HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

      Source ISBN: 9780006755128

      Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780008116736

      Version: 2014-09-22

       Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Keep Reading

       Also by the Author

       About the Publisher

      We are the dogs of Munchy Flats. We live here, with our people.

      I am Buster, and I’m the boss dog. I am the leader of the pack.

      We also have two cats. The cats are called Whiskers and Panda, and they were here before any of us. They sometimes complain that we dogs are too loud, or too bouncy. They don’t like it when we jump and bark.

      “So noisy!” they go.

      “So clumsy!” they go.

      But we are all the best of friends.

      I don’t know how our people managed before we came to live with them. Life must have been so dull! No one to take them for walks, no one to play games with them. They love it when we go into the garden and give them a ball to throw! They love it when we walk them to the park and let them meet their friends! Whatever would they do without us?

      Bonnie shivers when I say this. I know what she is thinking. She is thinking, whatever would we do without our people? We would be lost!

      It is true. We all have a story to tell, about how we came to be here. This is Bonnie’s story. It was a long time before Bonnie could bring herself to give us all the details. She was such a sad, frightened little creature when she first came. And yet, like all of us, she had been happy as a pup. She had no idea, then, how badly life would treat her.

      Her earliest memories are of being with her mum, and her brothers and sisters. She can just dimly remember living in a big cosy basket underneath a table. “We all used to roll about together, then we would curl up in a heap and go to sleep.”

      Her next memory is of two people bending down to peer into the basket, and one of the people crying, “Oh, Jake, look! The little sandy one!”

      “That was me,” says Bonnie, big-eyed. She was the little sandy one! Out of all the litter, they had chosen her!

      Her new people were called Alison and Jake. They didn’t have very much money, and they didn’t live in a very grand house, in fact they lived in two and a half rooms of someone else’s house. The only garden was a little bit of yard, covered in concrete, where the dustbins stood. Bonnie had never seen a garden before she came to us. She thought our garden was a park! It seemed so big.

      The Common was too far away for everyday walking, so Bonnie had to make do with street walks, on the lead. It would never have done for dogs like me or Bouncer. We need lots of space to run and play! But Bonnie had never known anything else; and so long as her people loved her, that was all she asked. Just to be loved. It is what most dogs want.

      Every morning, Jake would get up early and take Bonnie round the block. Then he would go off to do his milk round, and Bonnie would creep into bed with Alison. This was one of her favourite moments!

      After Alison had gone to work, Bonnie would be on her own. She didn’t like that very much, but she learnt to curl up on Alison’s pillow and wait patiently for Jake to come home. She knew that Jake would give her her dinner, and then take her for another walk. Maybe round the block, or maybe, if the weather was good, up the road to a patch of green where she could be off the lead and run about. It was always Jake who walked her; never Alison. Alison cuddled her; Jake walked her. That was the pattern.

      Bonnie thought that it would go on for ever.

      Alas, nothing goes on for ever! We older dogs know this. But Bonnie was still just a baby. She didn’t

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