Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel!

I crawled over to Paddy and licked his face. Perhaps he was alive after all? I so wanted to be wrong. I did it again and again and his head jerked with each increasingly desperate lick. But his eyes didn’t flicker.

I whimpered, “Wake up! Please wake up!”

I placed my snout above his mouth and sniffed for breath, hoping to feel the slightest waft of air. Nothing. I howled, my nose pointing to the darkening sky. I howled in pain and grief, as we have done for centuries. I howled because I can’t weep like big’uns. I howled because I love my master more than anything.

I stopped when I heard the front door open and shut and the man’s feet crunched on the gravel drive. A car door opened. But not quietly. It was metal screeching on metal. I smelt diesel as he drove away, and heard a tink, tink, tink of something rattling.

I grew weaker and dizzier as the pool of blood from my wound grew. But I would not leave Paddy. He was my world and someone had taken him from me. I howled again, but my head felt so very heavy. I rested it on Paddy’s chest, his white shirt drenched in blood where the blade had pierced his no longer beating heart. I vowed to myself that if I was to live I would never rest until I found the man who took him from me.’

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