Author's Note: Sorry for the multiple notices about this story. It's one of those trying days at fanfic dot net . . .


It turned out that I was really good at something. Maybe not terrific, maybe not great. But really good. At geography of all things. Who would have guessed?

It all started when my teacher, Mrs. Bradford, told us about the geography bee in Truro. She said she needed two kids from our class to represent Portwenn Primary Year 4. When she started looking around the room for volunteers, I made sure to slide down as far as possible in my desk. No one wanted to stick their hand up and show up our mates. And, besides, it would certainly mean a lot of extra studying and stuff.

When none of us volunteered, she threatened to pick somebody. Still none of us raised our hands. So, boy was I surprised when, after class, she came up to me and asked me to go.

"But Mrs. Bradford. Please don't pick me," I pleaded. "Besides, I don't know much about geography."

"Of course you do, James," she said. "You have a 97 average, highest in the class."

I couldn't deny that. Even so, that was just passing her stupid tests. For a contest, one for all of Cornwall, I'd have to study a lot more.

In the end, she convinced me to go, along with Margot Oliver, whom I had to admit was pretty darn smart. We had geography of North and Central America, which seemed pretty simple at first because there weren't all that many countries. Then I found out how big the States really was and how much different geography there could be in one country.

We practiced after school every day and, when I told Mum and Dad that I was going, they worked with me at night. I'd always thought Dad was smarter than Mum at everything. Not at geography – Mum was a whiz. I discovered she knew all sorts of things, like the only two countries in South America that didn't touch the ocean.

At first, it was pretty simple as I learned stuff like which countries were on which continents, the capitals, and the longest rivers and the highest mountains.

Then it started getting harder. I studied where mountain ranges started and stopped, the oceans into which rivers emptied, the largest and smallest Caribbean islands, which countries and states and provinces bordered what. It was a lot to learn!

Margot and I were a team, which meant that our scores were counted together to decide who won and who lost. I definitely wasn't going to let a girl show me up, so I studied even harder. For a whole month.

When it was finally time for the bee, I felt that I knew everything; I'd practiced so hard that nothing could stump me. I wasn't so sure about Margot. I knew she hadn't studied as hard as I had and, when we did the practice bee with Mrs. Bradford, she missed a lot of questions that I knew the answer to. The problem was that, in the bee, even though we were a team, we couldn't help each other. So I could only hope that her being really smart would be enough.

The bee was in Truro, of course, and my Mum and Dad drove me there early Saturday morning. It was the first time I'd been on the moor with both of them since I'd run off almost two months ago. I'd been punished for that of course. It was kind of hard to ground me since I'd been on crutches and not really able to go anywhere anyway. So, they'd taken away my tellie and computer for two weeks and made me sign in and out every time I left the house other than for school. It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been and I guessed Mum and Dad figured that being stuck by myself on the moor was punishment enough.

In the end, the questions at the bee were easier than I expected and I didn't miss a one. Margo missed two, which meant we ended up getting second place, when we should have won. Still, I'd aced my part. Margot knew it. Mrs. Bradford knew it. Mum and Dad knew it.

And it was really neat that Dad had come to watch me, on a Saturday no less. And even better that he hadn't had any doctor emergencies to call him away.

"James Henry, you were wonderful," Mum gushed, hugging me as I came off the stage with the second place medal in my hand. Even though it wasn't a big trophy of a globe like the winning team got, I still felt really good.

"We're so proud of you," she added.

"Well done, James," Dad said and cracked a big smile. "You answered every question correctly."

"Thanks, Dad. We should have won, though," I complained. "If stupid Margot hadn't—"

"James!" Mum put up a hand to stop me. "I'm sure Margot did her best. Remember how it feels when you let down your friends and classmates."

I gulped, knowing that she was reminding me how bad I'd felt after the football game, the time when I'd let the other team score the winning goal. It was hard to believe that was more than a month ago. I shivered a bit at the memory – it seemed more like last week.

"Yes, Mum," I answered.

"Would you like to stop for ice cream on the way home?" Mum asked as we were walking to the car. It made me feel good that she wanted to take me out when I'd won, not only when I'd lost.

Dad frowned at her – he wasn't a big fan of sweets – but didn't argue.

"No, it's alright. I'm not really hungry."

Dad frowned even more and reached out a hand to my forehead. "Are you ill?"

I shook away. "No. Really," I added. "I ate too much cake." They'd had a party for us after everyone was done with cake and biscuits and sweets and I'd eaten far too much.

"All right then," Dad said, opening the car. "Let's get on home."

We drove back across the moor and this time, knowing how far I'd walked, it seemed much bigger than it had before. Whatever had I been thinking trying to walk here on my own?

Neither Mum nor Dad said anything about it, though I expect they wanted to. Instead we talked about our class science project. We were going to find out whether the shape of an ice cube made it melt faster or slower. I suspected Dad – and probably Mum too – already knew the answer.

Last week, we'd tested whether covering our hands when we sneezed kept us from spreading germs. Dad hadn't been too pleased when he'd heard about that one – until I told him that Mrs. Bradford had told us the most important thing was to wash our hands really well. I think that probably stopped him from having a word with my teacher.

"Martin," Mum said from in front of me. "Remember we were going to stop off on our way home."

"Hmm," Dad said.

"Martin," Mum said again, in a voice she often used when she wasn't too pleased with what I'd done. I wondered what Dad might have done. "We called them and said we were coming."

"Oh, all right," Dad said, sounding none too pleased.

"Are we visiting someone?" I asked.

"Yes," Mum replied.

Dad turned the car onto a road that I knew led to Wadebridge. About the only time we went here was to see Dr. Nordquist. I still didn't understand why Mum and I sometimes went to him as our GP and sometimes Dad took care of us. I supposed it must make sense to someone.

"Who are we visiting?" I asked. I doubted we were going to see the doctor and, far as I could tell, Mum and Dad didn't have a lot of friends in Wadebridge.

"Just be patient, James," Mum said over her shoulder. "I think we turn just ahead, on the right," she said to Dad.

A few minutes later, we pulled up to a cottage I'd never seen before. It was about the same size as ours only there was so much more land. It was kind of like Aunt Ruth's farm only without the farm.

"Where are we?" I asked, taking off my seatbelt.

"There's something we want to show you," Mum said, stepping out of the car. "Come on."

I jumped out quickly, curious as to what was going on. When I looked back, I saw Dad was still in the car. Mum noticed too, because she called him out on it.

"Come on, Martin."

He rolled down the window. "I'd rather wait in the car."

"You promised."

"Oh all right. If you insist," he said, pulling himself out of the car and not looking too happy about it.

Mum took me by the hand and we walked up to the front door. She rung the bell and I heard the sound of a dog barking. The door was opened a few seconds later by a woman about Dad's age. I was quite sure I'd never seen her before.

"You must be Mrs. Ellingham. I'm Mrs. Prescott. And you." She looked down at me and smiled. "You must be James."

How did this woman know my name? And what in the world were we doing here?

"Oh, and Dr. Ellingham," she added as Dad came up behind us. "Welcome. Please come through."

With a quick prod from Mum, I stepped through and gazed around; from the inside it looked like any other cottage.

"In here," she said, drawing us toward a closed door. The instant she opened it, a small dog ran out. Must have been the one that was barking.

I watched it run past and head for Dad. I almost laughed as Dad tried his best to keep it from touching him.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a lot more barking. It was coming from inside the room! As I entered, I couldn't stop my eyes from growing wide.

The room was filled with dogs – or at least it seemed that way. There must have been at least six of them all running around like crazy. I looked back at Mum who gave me an encouraging smile and at Dad who . . . I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Puppies!" I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.

"Yes," Mrs. Prescott said from behind me. "Just five weeks old. That's Mary there." She pointed toward a larger dog who was doing her best to keep track of her puppies who were running all around every which way. "She's the proud mum."

I gazed longingly at the puppies; there were five of them.

"Would you like to hold one?" Mrs. Prescott asked.

"Oh very much, ma'am," I said and then stopped in my tracks to look back at my parents. Well, at my dad.

"Go on, James," Mum said.

I sat down on the floor and right away the little dogs came running up to me. Mrs. Prescott scooped up Mary in her arms. Within a few seconds, I had little puppies all over me – licking my hands and my face and crawling over my legs and—"

"Do you like them?" Mrs. Prescott asked.

"I love them! All of them."

"They're Norwich Terriers," Mrs. Prescott explained. "They won't grow much larger than five kilos and they don't shed a lick. Very friendly and very good with children—"

I stopped listening to her and instead grabbed one of the puppies and held it right up to my face. I opened my mouth to say something and, before I knew what was happening, the puppy had stuck its tongue right in my mouth.

"James!" Dad said. "Don't let it do that. Think of all those germs!"

"It's alright, Dad," I said.

"Which one do you like?" Mrs. Prescott asked.

"I like them all."

"Would you like one?" Mum asked.

I almost dropped the dog I was holding. Would I like one? A dog? A puppy? Mum couldn't be serious; no way Dad would go for it. I couldn't even look at him.

"James?" Mum asked.

"I know I can't have one," I said, putting the dog back on the floor. No use getting to like any of them as I'd just have to give it up. "Dad said."

"What if your father has changed his mind?"

My eyes swung toward him. Dad change his mind? About this? He would actually allow me to have a dog? It couldn't be. Could it? "Dad?" I asked, looking up at him with hope in my eyes. "Could I really have a dog? Of my own?"

"We'll have to discuss it," Dad said and, from his expression, I had no idea what he really meant.

"Martin . . ."

Dad stared at Mum for a long second then cleared his throat. "However, it's not out of the question. We'd have to talk about caring for a dog – feeding it, taking it out, brushing it, that sort of thing."

I couldn't believe it. Dad was actually considering it.

"It wouldn't be straight away," Mum cautioned. "As your father says, we need to discuss taking care of a dog."

"That's right," Mrs. Prescott chimed in. "Taking care of a puppy is a big responsibility. And, in any event, these kids won't be ready to leave their mum for at least another two weeks."

I was no longer listening. I could only think that I might actually have a dog, like Kippers. Well, not exactly like Kippers. This would be a . . . what did she call it? Norfolk Terrier? And it would be mine . . . all mine. I'd do whatever my dad asked. Whatever it took. Maybe, just maybe, I could have a real live puppy!

Dad would let me! And Mum. Even though I'd done a very bad thing in running off, even though I'd been very wrong, my mum and dad were alright. They were going to let me have a dog.

I knew how much this . . . how much my dad was . . . giving up. He no more wanted a dog than I wanted to spend another night on the moor.

He was leaving it to me. I had to make this work. I had to make sure that I did all the right things with a dog that I hadn't done when I'd run off like I did. I had to be more "adult" now – now that I would be the "dad" of this dog. And I swore to myself that I'd do whatever my mum and dad asked.

I watched the puppies run around and couldn't stop myself from smiling. I could choose one. It would be mine! All mine!

I saw Mum smile. And Dad . . .


I watched my wife and son snuggling with that blasted puppy. It had taken James nearly an hour but he'd finally chosen the dog that, it now appeared, would be his. Ours, I thought with a mental groan.

I could only imagine what our life would be like with dog. Chewed up slippers. Soiled carpets. Days and nights of barking. It was bound to be a nightmare.

Normally, I would be miserable and, in a way, I was. But as I watched my lovely wife and my dear son, smiling and laughing and playing with that . . . that creature,

I knew without a doubt that they were both overjoyed. And that my giving in to letting them have this dog – putting their desires ahead of my own – had led to this state. I might rue my decision for the next decade – or however long that animal would live. But for the moment, Louisa and James Henry were happy. And, for now at least, that was enough to make me happy.


Author's notes:

In case anyone is interested, the two landlocked countries in South America are Paraguay and Bolivia.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Norwich Terrier, you can find out more at under the breed. Unfortunately, I can't seem to link it here.

The Norfolk Terrier, to which JH refers, is actually a distinct breed for the Norwich Terrier. It's easy for non-terrier fanatics to get them confused, as JH does in my story.

Finally, thanks to all of you who took the time to post comments about my story. It is very gratifying and provides the impetus to keep writing. Also, a huge shout out to my beta jd517 who poked me when needed but, most importantly, encouraged me at every turn.