The puppy and the punt thieves

I was beaming from ear to ear. The few pints of pale we had chugged at the pub were starting to work their magic. Me and three of my buddies armed with driving licences which belonged to our older brothers, had managed to get served at our local pub.

We had bumped into a few girls from school and done our best attempt at flirting with them, before stealing a drunken kiss and departing.

What a feeling it was, to be 16 years old and out with your mates, having just kissed a pretty girl, not a care in the world.

We stumbled down a cobbled road and passed The Eagle pub, which if you know the history of Cambridge, was where the two Nobel prize winners Watson and Crick would often come for a lunchtime pint to discuss the structure of DNA.

Testosterone, booze and banter fuelled our swagger as we sang at people and tried to prank each other.

There was only one place we were heading, down to the river to steal one of the punts. In Cambridge, punting was the thing to do if you were a tourist. Many people would nibble strawberries and sip sparkling wine as they were guided down the river in these long narrowboats known as punts. It was actually a beautiful way to see the city, especially in Summer.

We however thought it would be hilarious to steal one of them and conduct our own drunken, midnight tour.

After finally making it to the other side of town, which took us almost an hour, despite the fact its was a 20 minute walk, we identified our target. A group of punts supposedly chained together at the end of a rickety wooden walkway. Some inside intel from a notoriously unreliable mate at school, had told us, that there were sometimes security personnel hired by the University to stop little shits like us from stealing the punts.

Despite the questionable source of information, we decided it was worth checking and so following a quick run through of the game plan, Tom Alex and Martin, hung around suspiciously whilst I trotted down the walkway in search of the potential security threat. I walked for around three minutes until I reach an old stone bridge beyond which we were told we would be safe.

Bingo. Not a person in sight. Adrenaline and euphoria churned through my stomach as I pulled a cigarette from the box in my back pocket. I inhaled deeply before allowing a silvery wisp of smoke to escape my lips. As I tucked my lighter back into my jeans I became acutely aware of shadowy movement and rustling in the outcrop beneath the bridge.

I squinted and tapped some ash from my cigarette before aiming my phone light at the area.

Two brilliant white lights glared back at me from the shrubbery. I rested my cigarette between my lips before edging forward for a closer look. A moment of realisation swept over me as the silhouette of a small head took shape behind those brilliant white lights.

All of a sudden, the brilliant white lights disappeared along with the light from my phone. My eyes darted from the shrubbery to my hand in confusion. An empty power bar displayed on my phone screen before fading out to black.

“Shit” I muttered as I staggered to my feet and brushed the dirt from my knees.

“It was probably a cat or a fox” I convinced myself as I slowly turned round and prepared to leave.

Before I could take the first stride, a quiet whimper rose up from beneath the bridge.

I spun back around in the darkness fixated on where the sound had come from. The whining and rustling grew unmistakably louder.

“Okay okay”, I called out not really sure who or what I was speaking to. I paused briefly and glanced back to where I had left my friends. They must have thought I'd drowned or something.

With that, I emptied my pockets resting my phone, wallet, cigarettes, lighter and keys on the bank. Finally I removed my socks and my brothers trainers. He would've killed me if anything had happened to them. I rolled up each leg of my jeans above the knee before climbing over the railing and slowly lowering myself into the water. Despite it being the height of Summer, the water was freezing cold and grasped my legs in an icy embrace.

My feet finally touched the riverbed and the water lapped at my jeans causing the bottom half to become wet and soggy.

I grimaced and waded over to the thicket beneath the bridge in an attempt to identify exactly where the whining had been coming from. As I reached it, I whistled quietly and put on that voice people do when they speak to babies.

No luck. Whatever it was, was hiding in the vegetation and I didn't particularly want to climb up in bare feet. I could see a broken Budweiser bottle glinting in the moonlight and cringed at the possibility of taking a shard of glass to the foot. As I sat on the corner of the outcrop debating what to do, a small shadow moved next to me. I recoiled and jumped back into the water, firstly from shock and secondly because I thought it was a rat. Now I've got nothing against rats, I just presume they don't need my help navigating their own habitat.

But it wasn't a rat. As I moved aside preventing my shadow from obscuring the moonlight, my eyes focused in on a puppy. Jet black and soaking wet it looked up at me cautiously. Hardly believing my eyes, I slowly extended my hand and allowed it to sniff me. After some negotiation, it edged closer and licked my fingers before allowing me to gently stroke its head. It wasn't wearing a collar and there was no one in sight as I surveyed the walkway of the river.

“Right mate, I think we should try get you out of here” I whispered scooping it up with one hand. As I did so, it began to wriggle around in a desperate struggle to be released.

So I sat back down on the outcrop and let it sit in my lap whilst I stroked it some more and tried to gain its trust.

As we sat quietly trying to understand one another, Martin's voice sliced through the tender exchange.

“Oi you mug, what are you doing down there?!”

I must've been gone for more than 15 minutes by now and they had obviously grown impatient.

I half whispered back, explaining the situation, so as not to startle the puppy. They hung over the railings partly amused, partly in wonder at the situation. All talk of stealing the punts seemed irrelevant, as we devised a plan to safely get the puppy up onto the walkway.

At this point it seemed to be far more comfortable in my presence and had placed its two front legs on my chest as it attempted to lick my chin.

I took the opportunity to once again scoop it up. This time it didn’t struggle but seemed more interested in watching the water ripple as I waded over to the side of the bank. Thank God the boys were there, I had realised with the puppy in one hand, it would have been near enough impossible to pull myself up onto the railing.

We walked back through town, having abandoned our original mission, with the puppy wrapped in my hoodie. It seemed far more lively now taking in the sights, sounds and smells of a Saturday night in Cambridge. Almost without fail, any group of girls that walked past would comment on how cute it was and play with it. We joked about how I should keep it for this reason alone if none other.

Finally we said our goodbyes and I trudged home still confused as to what I was going to do about my little companion.

I arrived home to an empty house, as my parents were still in Monaco until the following day.

I decided to wash it with lukewarm water and a bar of soap in the kitchen sink, before wrapping it in small blue towel. I laughed as it’s little pink tongue poked out from between it’s furry lips. It looked like a wise old Jedi from the Star Wars films.

“What do dogs even eat”? I wondered as I rested it on the kitchen floor. I had never had a dog, and any of my friends who did, seemed to feed them kibble, which I of course didn't have.

We therefore compromised and settled on little pieces of chicken and pasta from the fridge, which it enthusiastically devoured. I finally sat down and began to mindlessly scroll social media whilst the puppy attempted to chew the little blue towel next to me.

I woke up the next day with a start, my phone in my lap and my mum and dad standing before me, their suitcases resting in the hallway and their arms folded. My mum glared at a patch of yellow liquid on the floorboards as the puppy proudly stood next to it.

“You’ve got some explaining to do young man"

Having got up showered and changed out of yesterday's river clothes, I explained the entire situation to mum and dad setting forth my case as to why we should keep it. Although I took a bit of heat for being out drinking and getting into the river, they seemed to be secretly proud of my charitable endeavour.

Nonetheless they were staunch in their opposition.

“We can’t keep it, its against the law” they protested as I grew more exasperated, trying to explain that nobody would find out.

Eventually of course, they prevailed and following a brief phone call with the council, it was arranged that somebody would be coming on the Monday to pick it up.

I spent a majority of Sunday trying to avoid playing with the puppy and forming an attachment, with little success. It’s energy and playfulness had us all in stitches, even my parents. I was also under strict instructions not to name it but by the end of the day I decided on Buddy.

As Buddy and I sat on the couch watching ‘Top Gear’ together before bed, my mum came and sat next to us running her finger along his cheek as his little tail wagged.

“I hope they find you a good home little Buddy”.

The next day at school I broke the news to my friends that Buddy would be going to the dog pound.

“Ah shit bro, you know sometimes they get put down if no one comes to get them..? Tom looked concerned over his ham sandwich.

I refused to believe it. My mind was preoccupied throughout the afternoon as Buddy’s potential fate re played over in my mind.

School couldn't finish quickly enough and I remember rushing to the bus stop ahead of all my friends. The 10 minute journey crawled by as I impatiently tapped my knee, praying to God, that they hadn't taken Buddy away yet. As the bus pulled up to the stop outside my house, I sprinted through the double doors and down my drive, to find a small white van parked up. I unlocked my front door and ran into the living room to find my mum helping put Buddy into a little dog carrier.

“Mum you know he’s going to get put down if no one comes for him”!? I blurted out, as I glanced from my mum, to the young woman who had been sent by the council to collect him.

My mum incredulously looked at the woman, who gave a well rehearsed answer which neatly sidestepped the question. “We really avoid this under all circumstances if we can” she said sheepishly.

“But if you leave your details with us we can get in touch and let you know what happens to him”.

Mum reluctantly agreed, before he was driven away, excited for his next adventure, not knowing what may await him.

I spent the following week, trying not to think about him as my parents avoided the subject. I was annoyed at them, the council and whichever idiot it was who lost him in the first place.

The following Monday I came back from cricket practice and left my large training kit in the hallway before turning to go upstairs and have a shower.

Before I was able to, my mum gestured for me to come into the living room. She sat me down and spoke purposefully. I could tell from her tone that she was serious.

“I spoke to the Warden from the council today… and unfortunately nobody has come to collect Buddy”. My heart sank as I exhaled and put my head in hands. I knew what this could potentially mean.

Before my thoughts could begin racing, mum put her finger under my chin and lifted my head “Fortunately it means we can collect him instead”. I stared with my mouth open as her words registered in my brain, before I threw her into a bear hug.

“Walking, training, feeding it's all your responsibility though”.

“Of course mum, you’ve got it” I grinned as tears glistened in my eyes.

The two best parts of this story are, firstly that the little blue towel I used to dry Buddy with on his first night at home, is still his favourite towel to this day.

Secondly that my dad, who grew up in the midst of the Sri Lankan Civil War and had not been subject to many positive experiences with dogs, is today inseparable from Buddy. Since my brother and I left for university Buddy has become the apple of his eye and is adored by friends and family alike.