LITMIR.BIZ

      In seconds the bus was gone and Sam was left wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed the dog’s owner bending down or hiding on the floor? Perhaps it wasn’t a dog at all but a man with a hairy beard and whiskers wearing a fur coat? Were dogs even allowed on buses? Sam didn’t know. Maybe the truth was that he just had dogs on the brain because he’d been asking his parents to let him have one for ages. In fact, asking was an understatement. He’d been begging, nagging and pleading – and when that failed, wishing and praying for a dog.

      Over months he’d built up a collection of things a dog might need such as rubber bones, old tennis balls and dog biscuits. He’d tried dropping hints, by mentioning friends who had dogs and hadn’t died or caught fleas as a result. He’d even written ‘DOG’ in capital letters at the top of his birthday list. Yet whatever he said or did made no difference – his parents’ answer was the same. A dog just wasn’t ‘practical ’ right now, they said. Dogs were too costly, too messy, too much work – in fact just too ‘doggy’ altogether.

      Downstairs, Sam found the table set for supper and his mum and dad arguing about something. It seemed to be to do with a pile of bills that had been hidden in the tea caddy. Sam’s parents often argued about money, but today he wasn’t really listening because he was thinking about the dog on the bus.

      ‘Telephone, gas, water . . .’ Mum was saying. ‘Have we paid any of these?’

      Dad waved his fork. ‘I was getting round to it,’ he said.

      ‘Really? When? ’ demanded Mum.

      ‘When we had a bit more money,’ said Dad. ‘You know, once business picks up.’

      Sam looked at his Mum. Dad said this a lot but business never actually picked up. Mr Shilling worked from home as a self-employed inventor, although he didn’t actually earn any money. His latest project, the Grandem – a four-person bike for the whole family – sat out in the shed with all his other unsold inventions. Sam could tell his dad was in trouble but fortunately he was saved by a knock on the door. Actually it wasn’t a knock, it was more like a muffled thump.

      ‘Oh, who’s that?’ asked Dad.

      ‘No idea,’ said Mum. ‘But we haven’t finished talking.’

      ‘Maybe it’s the postman?’ suggested Sam.

      ‘Not on a Sunday evening,’ said Dad.

      The thump came again two or three times, followed by a sound like scrabbling or scratching. If it was the postman he was behaving very oddly.

      ‘I’ll go!’ said Sam, curious to see who it was.

      But when he opened the door there was no one there. He was about to close it when he looked down – and noticed the black and white dog on the doorstep gazing up at him expectantly. It had a thick, wiry coat, dark eyes and an intelligent face. Its tail was wagging like a windscreen wiper. Sam’s heart leapt. It was the kind of dog he’d always dreamed of owning and what’s more he’d seen it before, on the top deck of the bus.

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