Hero the greyhound (Simon's Hero)

Hero the Greyhound (Chapter 9)

The sound of a distant tractor engine woke Hero with a start. He had been asleep for hours. Escaping from the kennels and running all that way had worn him out. He was hungry and he was very thirsty but he wasn't sure what to do about finding food. He had never had to think about it before; he had been fed and watered every day when he had lived in kennels. He rose unsteadily to his feet, his legs felt like jelly, the injury at the track had really taken its toll, his back ached all the time and he still found it difficult to balance first thing in the morning. He gave a big stretch and yawned before wandering over to the filthy old trough. The water was green and slimy and he tentatively drank a few mouthfuls before deciding it wasn't worth it, it tasted absolutely disgusting. The sun was shining and the horses looked up from their grass munching to gaze at their new, rather strange, field companion. They knew he wasn't one of them but he didn't look like much of a threat so they just carried on eating and enjoying the sun on their backs. Hero walked across to the open gate, not quite sure where he was going or what to do next.

The sound of a gunshot rang through his brain; he dashed through the gate and ran as fast as his damaged legs would allow, across three wide fields and into a wooded area. His chest heaved up and down and when he reached the woods, he turned and looked behind when he heard the first 'thud'. Something fell from the sky, 'bang, thud', another one, 'bang, thud', and another. What on earth were they? 'Bang, thud, bang, thud, bang, thud', three more of the strange round shapes fell and then, he saw several creatures, tails wagging, running towards the still, silent round shaped things on the ground. The Labradors picked up the things and ran away, back towards the sound of the gun shots. Hero was scared, he hadn't heard gun shots before but something told him they were not good and that he should stay put, under the trees.

The things falling from the sky were pheasants. It was shooting season and the sky was filled with doomed birds, desperately trying to out-fly the gunshots but failing miserably. They were bred and fattened especially for this time of year and the people brandishing the guns had paid a lot of money to be a part of this shoot. There would be lunch with champagne later and then, more shooting in the afternoon. Drunk shooters weren't the most accurate and the poor pheasants were often badly injured but still alive when the dogs rounded them up.

One yellow dog ran around and around in circles, sniffing the ground the whole time. Hero had seen the bird fall from the sky and knew exactly where it was. The Labrador, realising he wasn't going to find it, decided he should get back to his master before he got into trouble and ran off, leaving the bird in the middle of the field. Hero waited until the gun shots had stopped, it was almost lunchtime and there were fewer and fewer shots being heard. He waited and waited and when he decided it was safe to venture out into the field, he put his head down and walked quietly and stealthily from the safety of the woods and made a bee-line towards the area where the motionless thing on the ground had fallen. He didn't know whether it would be an edible thing but given that the other dogs had been so keen to find them, it was worth investigating. Hero would have eaten just about anything, so empty was his stomach and when he reached the middle of the field, he looked left and right and then, put his nose to the ground and started sniffing. Eventually, the scent hit his nostrils and he found his way to where the pheasant lay. It was dead so he grabbed it and went running back to the woods, salivating at the thought of food. He dropped it to the ground and began greedily devouring the rather floppy bird, chewing through feathers, flesh and bone without worrying what it was. It was something to eat and that's all he needed to know because he really was starving hungry. This was his first meal in two days and although it wasn't quite as easy to swallow as his kennel food, the meat tasted delicious. Now he needed a nice drink of fresh water but that meant returning the kennels and he wasn't going back there ever again.

The sun was still quite high and although it was autumn, it was an unseasonably warm day so he decided to settle down under the trees and have a nap after his unexpected lunch. He snoozed for an hour or so and then, the shooting started again so Hero decided to take a different path through the forest. He walked in the opposite direction from the way he had come in, through a densely wooded area, picking his way through the brambles and trying to avoid getting any thorns in his pads. Racing dogs weren't used to roads or forests; they raced on sand or dirt tracks and found other surfaces quite uncomfortable.

He could see something shiny in the distance, in between the trees; something moving quickly in one direction. It wasn't like the other thing he'd had to run across, there weren't any cars or lorries here. He carefully made his way out of the woods and walked towards the shiny thing. It was water; flowing at quite a lick but it looked so inviting, he decided to take a risk and began walking towards the river. The riverbank was much higher than the river itself and greyhounds find drinking from ground level difficult so this was going to be almost impossible but he was so thirsty, there was no alternative other than to bend his front legs as far as they would go and reach down towards the water with his long, pointy nose. He felt his left front paw sink into the mud and before he could right himself, Hero toppled head over heels into the water. The current was strong and his back legs were still very weak but the adrenaline was coursing through his veins, this was a real 'fight or flight' situation and Hero wasn't giving in. He was quickly washed downstream.

Bang! He felt his left front leg hit a large rock beneath the surface. It really hurt but he carried on paddling for all he was worth. It wasn't really making any difference but when the only other option is drowning, you just keep battling and that's exactly what Hero did.

A man and his young son were having a picnic on the riverbank. The son had finished eating and was throwing sticks into the fast flowing water.

"Hey Dad, Dad..." shouted the boy "look at that, is it a dog?"

"What, in the water? I wouldn't have though so" said the father, getting up off the picnic rug and running over to the side of the river.

"I'm sure it is Dad, he looks as though he's in trouble, what can we do to help?"

"Well, nothing much, son" said the dad "they do say it's best to let a dog make its own way out of dodgy situations, too many devoted dog owners have lost their lives trying to rescue their poochies."

"Can't we do something Dad?" the little boy was desperate now, the dog had looked like a drowned rat as it sailed past, four legs flailing in the fast current.

"Well, I could ring the police I suppose" said the dad, fishing his mobile phone out of his breast pocket and dialling 999. A calm female voice asked which Emergency Service he required and a second or two later, he was connected and explaining why he had called. He spoke quickly, knowing that every second wasted might mean the difference between life and death for the poor dog.

"Hello, yes, hello there...I know this may not count as an emergency, but we are having a picnic on the banks of the River Throng and we think we may have seen a dog in the water. Yes, a dog, it looked as though it was in a great deal of trouble, there was nothing we could do, he was gone before we had time to blink. We're about a mile and a half out of town so he's heading towards the bridge and the weir right now. My name? Yes, of course, it's Mr Jonathan Diddle. Yes, yes, you can reach me on this mobile number if you have any further queries. Thank you so much, I hope you can help him. If you send someone from town end, they might just catch him before he hits the weir. If he goes over there, I doubt he'll survive. OK, thanks, goodbye."

"Thanks Dad" said the boy "I hope they find him, he looked really scared. Would you jump in and rescue me if I fell in?"

"Not likely" laughed the father and they made their way back to the picnic rug, hoping the police would find the dog and rescue him in time.

Hero was still fighting the current and he was in an absolute blind panic. It had rained quite a lot recently and the water was fast and furious, it was impossible to fight it. He was being washed down the river like a spider down a plug hole and all he could do was to take big breaths when the current allowed his head above the water. His leg really hurt where he'd hit it on the rock and he could feel his energy waning. Trying to keep his head above water was becoming impossible; his body went limp and then, he vanished beneath the surface of the fast flowing river.