Walkies

By Maggie Knutson

Anna has thrown off her high heels and boring office job to become a professional dog walker. But she soon suspects that her dogs can not only understand humans but also each other. Her charges range from Derek the hippy Alsatian to Tigi the cross-gender cockapoo and boy do they have some stories to tell. And then there's the evil cat Plato lurking close by and just who is in the bushes?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maggie Knutson
• Release date: Nov 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999975623

Maggie Knutson

Having left her job as an English teacher to concentrate on writing, Maggie has had success with the following: Short story Renaissance published in Saucy Shorts for Chefs (Accent Press) Short story September in Italy published in Quality Women’s Fiction Short story The Love Bug published in Sexy Shorts For The Beach (Accent Press) Short story Breaking and Entering published in The Yellow Room Eight freelance articles published in The Hampshire Chronicle Maggie's first novel Cyprus Blues is published as an e-book with Barnes and Noble. She has started a third novel - a murder mystery - and has a sequel in mind for Walkies, which she plans to write as she and her husband and dog travel through Spain and Morocco in a Mobile Home in the summer. Maggie also reports on the annual Essaouira Gnawa and World Music Festival, Morocco for the internet via her blog MaggieKnutson.com. She also posts photographs on Flickr. Having spent an age trying to find an agent and publisher but to no avail, she has taken matters into her own hands and published this novel herself. If any agents or publishers would like to sign her up she can be contacted on her email site [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

Six in the morning and Anna was already awake. The alarm was set for half-past, she'd get up then. But for now, she was content just lying in bed, being warmed by the sun which filtered through the branches of the trees opposite. It was going to be another glorious day. Yippee.

Kiz was sound asleep next to her. Her long auburn hair looked even richer in the sunlight and Anna was tempted to stroke it but she didn't want to wake Kiz up.

Anna was so happy she could hardly believe her luck. Apart from the fact that they would probably be homeless in a few weeks’ time, things were pretty damn good. And a new home would turn up soon, she was sure.

Four months into her new job as a dog walker had confirmed her belief that she was not cut out to be an office worker. She was a free spirit and free spirits could not be confined within four walls. It was a crime against humanity. Okay, so that was perhaps an exaggeration but it certainly applied to her. All that nonsense of boring dress code, perfectly styled hair, tons of make-up, and ridiculously high heels was just not her.

And boy did she hate high heels. Why so many women actually chose to teeter along in such stupid shoes was a mystery to her. She had had to pay good money to get her back fixed by an osteopath after three miserable years squeezed into such abominations. Wearing such shoes was just one of the many ridiculous regulations that the company had insisted upon.

Now she had the perfect excuse to be herself and she was revelling in it. Anna loved the quiet of early morning. The caravan where they lived was tucked away in the corner of one of Ted Turner's fields, protected by tall, elegant trees which made a swishing sound when it was windy, but today all was still. And the farm was too far away from the road for traffic to bother them.

That a developer was going to churn up all the fields and build hundreds of dreary shoe-box houses was a scandal in her eyes. She supposed it was all about making big money but it just didn't seem right to spoil the countryside. 

Winchester, which was where they lived, was beginning to look like a massive building site wherever you looked. But Anna didn't want to dwell on such things. She was too busy enjoying life. Kiz stirred and turned to look at Anna.

Good morning you, she said.

Hello sleepyhead, Anna replied, grinning. It's already a lovely day. Perfect for dog walking.

Kiz touched her arm affectionately. I'm so glad you changed jobs, Anna. You're so much more relaxed these days.

And don't I know it. Dogs are, on the whole, much nicer than people. They don't answer back and they seem genuinely pleased to see you.

Kiz laughed. Good thing, then, that you don't have my job.

Children's party planner! No way.

Kiz stretched out and sighed with pleasure. Not all children are little monsters. Some are actually almost human. And it's good money too, although, sadly, not enough to buy a house at the moment. But, as we say: 'something will turn up for us, just you wait and see.'

And the two lay contentedly basking in the warmth, perfectly happy just to be together and hoping that the alarm was yonks away.

Chapter 2

Anna was just hosing down the Walkies company van in the yard when Ted came out of the farmhouse, holding two mugs of tea. Anna had already cleaned out the cages inside, shaken out the blankets and checked that all the leads and keys were hanging up in the right places.

Once she had finished hosing, Ted handed her one of the mugs.

Have you two lovely ladies found somewhere else to stay? he asked as Anna took big gulps of tea.

Not yet, Ted, she replied after she'd emptied the mug. But it's not for want of trying. The problem is we need not just somewhere to rent but a place for the caravan, my van for dog walking and Kiz's van for her children's parties. It seems a bit like Mission Impossible at the moment.

Ted opened his mouth to yet again apologize about selling the farm but Anna cut him short. We don't blame you, Ted. The farm was losing money and it's time you retired. You've helped us more than enough already. It's been great staying here but as Kiz says, 'Nothing stays the same for ever.'

Anyway, she added. Something will turn up. It always does.

Anna reckoned that if she and Kiz kept being positive then it was bound to come true.

Chapter 3

Lottie was waiting for Anna in her usual position, half way between the front door and the stairs. It was the nearest she could get to the door without being squashed between the door and the wall. That had almost happened once before, when she had been too close to the door, and her nose had received a nasty whack. And Lottie never made the same mistake twice.

She loved her walks and she loved Anna but today she wondered whether she should stay at home. It was a pity, she thought, that a dog couldn't be in two places at once.

But things were very wrong and it was most disconcerting for her. Usually Jim and Sue, her parents, were off to work almost before it was light and she had the whole house to herself, free to sniff around looking for any food on the floors, checking each room for any changes and admiring herself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom.

But for the last few weeks, Sue had stayed at home during the day, flopping about on the settee, reading magazines or watching television and going to bed ridiculously early. She wasn't her bright and breezy self and when she did stroke Lottie it was as though her mind was somewhere else. Lottie was beginning to think that she had done something wrong but she couldn't think what.

And today Jim had stayed at home, too, and had been making lots of urgent phone calls. She couldn't hear what was being said but he had sounded worried and so she, Lottie, was worried too. Now he and Sue were in the bedroom with the door closed. Lottie felt unloved and excluded.

Well, she thought, after some careful consideration, I'm jolly well going for my walk. At least my pals won't shut me out and I am looking rather good with this new ribbon. Lottie was very particular about her appearance. She was usually brushed every evening so that her white curly hair was soft and fluffy and, it being summer, a tartan ribbon tied around the hair on top of her head formed a very flattering top-knot. (In the winter, she wore a tartan waistcoat instead to keep her warm.)

Lottie was most proud of her Scottish ancestry, being a Scottie dog, and, she believed, that made her more special than the other dogs apart from Derek, who was an Alsatian, and Syder, who came from a very long line of pure bred Border Collies.

Her ears were now pointing in two different directions: the right ear to listen out for signs of Anna's arrival and the left to try and catch what was going on in the bedroom. It was her right ear which picked up first. There was the welcome sound of the van pulling up outside, the opening of the side door of the van in readiness for Lottie, the firm footsteps of heavy boots, the fumbling of the key in the lock and then there was Anna all smiles and a handful of treats.

Hello sweetie, Anna said. Who's ready for a walk then?

But Lottie decided to play hard to get. She tried to sit impassively but she couldn't quite stop her tail from wagging.

Anna threw some treats down on the floor but still Lottie didn't move.

Come on, Lottie, Anna coaxed. This isn't like you.

What have you done to your hair, Anna? Lottie was thinking. Why is it three different colours and why is it all chopped up? Lottie wasn't too bothered about Anna's dungarees and layers of skinny vests, although they could do with being washed and ironed, but the new hairstyle was way too untidy for her liking.

And then her right ear started buzzing and there was Jim, rushing down the stairs to greet Anna. This was new, too. It was just so confusing.

Anna, hi, Jim said with some urgency. I need to tell you something.

Good, thought Lottie. Now I'll know what's going on.

But Jim's voice was way too low for her to hear a single thing he said. But then he bent down and patted Lottie. You be a good girl for Anna and we'll see you when you get back.

Okay, she thought, I can handle this walk. And in a flash, she scooped up the treats, let Anna put her lead on and off they went. Once Anna had secured her in her cage in the van, Lottie curled up into a tight ball, waiting for Derek to be picked up. He always had a sympathetic word and today she could do with as much sympathy as she could get.

Chapter 4

Derek had his first walk of the day in the early morning when he and Gladys, his adopted mum, walked through the estate to catch the opening of Sanji  Patel's mini-market. Derek could walk all day if he was asked to. Or, he could sleep all day. He was a pretty laid back Alsatian, which, apparently, was not how an Alsatian should be.

Greg, his previous owner, was a police-dog trainer, and Derek had hated being a police dog. Rushing after people, grabbing them by the arm and forcing them to the ground was not in his nature. Greg had been his handler and Derek had never liked him. For a start, Greg had called him Bruiser, although Derek had no desire to bruise anybody or anything.

Come on, Bruiser, Greg would shout, in that viscous tone of his. Where's your killer instinct? Or....  Bruiser, attack! Or....  You've got to shake harder you stupid dog....give him a bite or two or three or four. And so on.

Greg had eventually given up, accusing Derek of being a lost cause and not a proper Alsatian. He had handed him to Gladys, his mother-in-law, to keep her company after her husband, Derek, had died. Gladys had decided to call her new dog Derek in memory of her husband and Derek was only too pleased with a name that more suited his temperament. 

What a relief, then, living with Gladys, whose only wish was that he looked fierce when the estate trouble makers were about.

And Derek certainly knew how to look fierce. He had learnt how to do that during the year working with Greg in the hope that Greg would just shut-the-fuck-up. It was quite fun, really. He would stand stock still, tensing every muscle to make his body appear even larger, his ears bolting upwards and the beginnings of a snarl forming on his face.

Perhaps, Derek thought, as he waited outside the shop for Gladys, he should have just 'gone' for Greg to teach him a lesson, but then it wasn't in his nature. He could possibly, he considered now, have suffered Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder afterwards so it would have been self-defeating.

Now he could hear Sanji talking about him, which chuffed him no end.

"Derek's doing a sterling job terrifying the hooligans on our estate. One look at him and they're off as if the devil were after them.'

That's our Derek, Gladys preened. "Good job they don't know he's such a good actor. I reckon Derek could even get an Equity card.'

Can I ask you something? Sanji asked as he prepared Glady's regular order: a Daily Express, 10 Woodbine, a pint of full cream milk and a packet of hob-nobs. Why call him Derek? It's a most unusual name for a dog. Our new dog is called Rocket, which is a bit strange. Makes me think I should put her on top of a salad. But Derek...

Gladys laughed. I was going to call him Al, short for Alsatian, but then I settled on Derek after my late husband.

And thank you for telling us about Walkies, Sanji said. Rocket's  going on her first walk with them this morning.

Excellent, Gladys replied, as she popped her purchases into her bag. Then she'll meet Derek. Derek will look after her so you've no need to worry.

Derek, who had heard only part of this conversation, was temporarily confused. He was to look after a piece of lettuce? Some of the other dogs ate just about