Chapter 1

DOG WASN’T REALLY a dog, she was a human girl, but she was called Dog because that is what Uncle had always called her.

Uncle had brought Dog to live in his pet shop so long ago that she didn’t remember anywhere else. She felt she had always lived amongst the cages of mice and hamsters, rabbits and budgies; eating the same food as they did and sleeping in the storeroom at the back of the shop, on an old pet bed.

It was Dog’s job to look after all the pets, and Uncle’s job to sit by the till eating sausages and reading the paper. When anyone came into the shop, Dog had to hide because if anyone saw her, anyone at all, Uncle said, she would be taken away.

“You’ll be put in a black, black box,” he told her, “and that will be the end of you!”

Uncle reminded her of this every day, opening the box he kept under the till so she could see the darkness inside, then slamming it shut so that the lock clicked; the sound made Dog shudder.

So, when customers came, Dog crouched on her bed, trembling; even when the shop was empty she kept away from the door and the windows, just in case. All she ever saw of the world outside was the weak sunlight that struggled through the dirty glass of the pet-shop window and fell on the floor between the sacks of Pussy Poo cat litter.

Uncle had a fat, angry face and a mouth that didn’t smile. Luckily he was very tall, so Dog hardly ever had to look further than his knees.

He had two moods: good and bad. When he was in a good mood, he ate sausages with his fingers, and pointed at the map above the till with a greasy finger and told Dog: “The blue part is the ocean and the green part is land. So don’t say I haven’t given you an educayshun. But you can’t say anything, can you, you dumb little mongrel!” And then he’d laugh, and bits of sausage would spray all over the shop.

Dog didn’t care that he laughed at her because she couldn’t speak; she was glad to be quiet, like Esme and the other animals, not full of shouty words like Uncle.

When he was in a bad mood, he stomped and raged, dented cages with his fists and split bags of bird seed with his kicks. Then he’d shout, “Dog, you good-for-nothing mongrel, get this cleaned up! NOW!”

But in spite of Uncle, Dog felt lucky. She didn’t have to live in a cage like the pets she cared for or watch her friends being sold as they did. Dog’s best friend was Esme the coati. Esme had a slender, inquisitive nose and a long stripy tail, with a short, cosy little body in between. She had lived at the shop for as long as Dog could remember and her fur was getting thin; there were even a few bald patches here and there. No one, Dog thought happily, would choose Esme instead of a baby bunny or a little mouse!

Esme was too clever to live in a cage, so she followed Dog everywhere, helping with the animals by checking that all their food tasted good. Her favourite thing (apart from fresh grapes and sliced banana) was sitting on Dog’s shoulders, with her tail wrapped around Dog’s neck. They shared sausage scraps when Uncle was in a good mood, and when he wasn’t, Esme hid her nose in Dog’s hair and breathed warmth onto her head.