Hero the greyhound (Simon's Hero)

Hero the Greyhound (Chapter 15)

**Dring, dring** **Dring, dring**

"Hello, Dogs Trust, how can I help you?" trilled Jemma.

"Oh hi" said Gareth, trying to word his question carefully. This was the fifth dog shelter he had called and he was beginning to feel rather like a parrot, asking the same question over and over again, "I don't suppose you have any black greyhounds there, do you?"

"Well, if you don't mind my asking" said Jemma, rather suspiciously, "that's a rather specific request. Are you thinking of adopting one?"

"No, well, yes, well, actually no but I am looking for one in particular." He didn't know how to explain the situation without getting himself and all his former friends into trouble. Would they demand lots of money to cover his food and shelter after all this time? If so, he wouldn't be able to afford it on his own and he presumed the others had long stopped thinking about the beautiful, black, shiny dog they'd once co-owned.

Jemma was a little worried and motioned to her deputy manager to listen in on the extension phone. Nobody rang up and asked for such a specific dog and if they did, the alarm bells immediately rang in her head. What if they wanted to race them or take them hare coursing? Greyhounds could still run very quickly, even when they were past their racing best. Of course, all ex-racers ready for adoption were spayed and neutered, to make sure nobody could breed from them but she had to be very careful when re-homing greys.

"Right, let's get this straight," said Jemma, pretending to write in the air to show her deputy that she wanted him to note anything this man said, "you are looking for a black greyhound. Does the dog have to be male or female or don't you mind which?" She spoke slowly and clearly, giving Christian time to find some paper and a pen.

"It has to be a male; around 34 kilograms, although of course, he may have lost weight since I last saw him. Oh, and he should have four white socks and a white blaze down his chest."

"I don't suppose you'd know his ear tattoo numbers by any chance, would you?" She was being facetious but to her surprise, the man said "Well, erm, I used to know them. At least, I would have had them written down somewhere at some point...I suppose..." His voice trailed off and then, it hit Jemma like a bolt from the blue and she nodded knowingly at Christian. "So, this is a dog you once knew then? Did he, by any chance, belong to you?"

He'd been rumbled and he slammed the phone down. Jemma looked across at Christian, who was still holding the extension phone with his mouth wide open. The man had just given a perfect description of the river dog. The one who'd come to their centre to be rehomed a few months ago. They'd found the owner and he'd just hung up on them. Jemma picked up the phone again and began dialling a number. Christian realised she was ringing the police to report the man but said "Don't you think we should give him a chance to explain? Maybe something absolutely terrible happened, maybe he was taken ill and couldn't look after the dog, who knows? We should, at least, allow him to explain. Dial 1471 to see what his number was."

Jemma dialled the number but shook her head. "Number withheld," she said, looking glum. Oh well, if the dog was important enough to him, maybe, just maybe, he might ring back and then, they could gently question him about his knowledge of this beautiful greyhound and find out exactly what happened to him before he'd fallen into the river.

Gareth was shaking. What had he done? They'd ring the police for sure if they thought he'd abandoned poor Hero. He could kick himself. Why hadn't he just left it all alone, carried on with his life and forgotten about the dog? He'd learned to live without Donna, surely he could carry on without some daft, injured dog weighing down on his conscience. He made a promise to himself NOT to ring them again. He'd withheld his number so they couldn't trace him. At least, he hoped they couldn't trace him. He would keep an eye out on the road, if any police cars passed by, he would make sure it looked as though he was out. Idiot. Total plonker. He might have caused himself no end of trouble had they known who he was.

Jemma rang a well-known greyhound rescue charity and relayed the phone conversation. "Yup, I'm sure he was something to do with this dog. He knew too much about him and gave an almost perfect description of his markings, y'know, his white socks and blaze down his chest. He withheld his number so we can't trace him but if he rings back, I'll be sure to let you know."

Gareth poured himself a beer. He'd tried and in trying, he'd possibly caused himself a lot of problems. He sipped the beer, turned on the telly and decided he would shut Handsome Hero out of his mind, forever.