Lucky lady

Lucky Lady

The first time Tommy saw her was at the dog track. He was instantly drawn to her, like a bee to honey. She wasn't like any of the other greyhounds racing in the 1.20pm Wilson Memorial Stakes. Whilst they pranced and tugged at their leashes, eager to get the race underway, expectant of the excitement soon to come, she sluggishly dragged her paws through the sand towards the starting gates with her muzzled head drooping. She was striking to look at with dappled fur of gold, black and brown and in her prime she was probably the dog everyone backed, but now she simply looked like a tiger who'd lost its fight; broken and lost. Tommy couldn't help but think he was looking into a mirror.
"Do you want to put a bet on?" Tommy's dad asked. "Nothing big of course. A pound limit. Wouldn't want her to think I was encouraging you to gamble would I?"
"Dad," Tommy sighed.
"Sorry son. I need to stop doing that. It's water under the bridge now between your mother and I. Time to move on."
Tommy glanced up at his dad who was absentmindedly flicking through the track guide. It was clear to Tommy that his father didn't believe what he was saying.
"You put a bet on, dad," Tommy said. "I'll wait here for you."
"Okay, son. But you need to pick a runner for me."
Tommy glanced back at the dogs. "What's the name of number five?"
"Lucky Lady."
"That's the one!" Tommy said resolutely. "Bet on her."
As his dad wandered over to a man yelling, waving his hands in the air and making strange signals with his fingers Tommy turned his attention back to the starting gate. The last dog, number 1, Mr Trickster, was being herded into its pen. When the gate clicked shut a stuffed rabbit was released along a metal track. A moment later the gates were raised and the dogs were let loose. In a blur of colour they streaked round the track in pursuit of the rabbit, jostling along the fence line. Tommy kept his eyes on Lucky Lady. She listlessly cantered round the track, struggling to keep up with the more agile greyhounds.
"Looks like we put a bet on a pup, son," his dad said as Lucky Lady finally crossed the line, last.
Winning or losing didn't matter to Tommy. He just wanted to show he cared.
"How do you get a greyhound, dad?" Tommy asked.
"Fancy becoming a trainer, do you?"
"No, not really. I just really like that Lucky Lady. How do I get her?"
"You want a dog?"
"Not a dog. That dog," Tommy replied, pointing to Lucky Lady.
She was standing by the fence watching the other dogs shred the white fluff of the rabbit. Her chest was heaving, and between breaths she spluttered a throaty cough.
"You can't have that dog, son. The trainer owns her."
"We could buy her."
His dad chuckled.
"I'm serious. Can we at least ask the trainer? You keep telling me every weekend, when you have some wild and wacky thing planned that, 'you'll never know if you like it until you try'. Well, we'll never know if we can get her unless we try," Tommy said earnestly.
His dad gave a defeated sigh and smiled.
Tommy felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach, like someone was prodding it with a thin stick. He knew he was playing on the tug of love between his parents, but he'd been a pawn in the game of family chess for so long he felt it was time to turn the tables in his favour.
"Come on then. Let's give it a try," said his father.
Tommy punched the air and mouthed the word ‘yes’. If excitement was a disease he was sure he was infecting every single one of the spectators. It was impossible to contain. He was bubbling inside, bubbling with wonder as to whether she would sleep on his bed or on the floor; whether she'd enjoy walks in the park or the woods; whether she preferred squeaky toys or soft toys. No. He shook the thoughts from his mind. He didn't want to tempt fate. 'One thing at a time' he said to himself.
With his eye fixed on Lucky Lady as she was lead from the track he twisted through the throng of spectators and officials, close behind his dad until they came to the paddock filled with large 4x4 cars, vans, pickup trucks with mesh cages and hundreds of dogs. He scanned the area for her unmistakable colouring and spotted her. She was lying on the grass beside a battered, white van. Her leash was like a noose round her neck, preventing her from resting her flopped head on the ground. Beside her were the trainer’s other greyhounds; ears pricked, eyes bright. They were wolfing down bowlfuls of meaty chunks whilst Lucky's bowl was filled with bland, dry biscuits. It looked like she hadn't even touched them. How could anyone race her? She was clearly not fit for it. Why didn't anyone stop it? Where were the track officials? The owner? The vet? The RSPCA? Tommy spat at how little mercy, care, love and compassion was shown to her. He felt anger boil and bubble inside him. He wanted to take her away from it all, take her home to a warm fire, a good meal and a giant, squishy cushion to sleep on.
"Afraid you can't get past here. Only trainers or officials beyond this point," stated a burly security guard dressed in a dark blue uniform. He raised his arm to block Tommy and his dad from entering the paddock.
"We were hoping to have a word with one of the trainers. My son is dying to see one of his dogs you see. He loves animals," his dad said in a nauseatingly phony attempt to reason with the guard. Reasoning and being reasonable was something his dad hadn't done in a long time. But Tommy appreciated the effort.
It seemed to work as the guard's steely eyed stare softened and his drawn mouth curled upwards.
"Oh, go on then," the guard said, opening the gate. "But don't be long."
As Tommy and his dad approached the van, a thin man with a flat cap appeared from the other side of the vehicle and regarded them with a suspicious glare. He was chewing on a blade of straw that he switched from one side of his mouth to the other.
"Can I 'elp ya?" he asked flatly.
"Hi there. I’m Stephen Dawson," Tommy's dad said, holding out his hand to greet the man with a cordial shake.
The man stared at his dad's hand and then back up at his face.
"Erm, I was just wondering if I could ask about one of your greyhounds?" his dad stuttered, withdrawing his hand. His dad’s confidence withered in spite of the fact that he towered over the flat-capped man.
"What about 'em?" he said and spat out the blade of straw.
Tommy turned his attention to Lucky Lady. She jerked her head up as Tommy approached her. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees, trying to make himself appear smaller, less threatening. She had affected him the moment he saw her but being close to her now flooded him with joy and when his eyes met hers it was like a bolt of lightning hitting him square in the chest. Her jet black eyes were so piercing they looked straight into him, into his heart, into his soul. All the weight he was carrying from the year of putting up with his parents fighting suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He felt so light he thought he might float away. He seemed to have a similar effect on her as she instantly perked up. Her ears pricked, her eyes widened, she even mustered what Tommy considered a smile-others might say she was panting but Tommy understood her perfectly.
"Hey there girl," he said, trying to hold a soft, gentle tone in the wake of the happiness threatening to explode from within him. "It's okay."
He reached out a hand and softly stroked the crown of Lucky Lady's head. She responded by nuzzling into his palm, egging him to continue.
"You like that, girl, don'tcha. Don't worry. My dad is going to buy you and then you can come home with me and you can be my girl. How d'ya fancy that?"
Lucky Lady whimpered and then let out a gentle bark.
"Hey there," called out the capped man. "Keep away from the dogs they're not domesticated."
Tommy stood up as his father approached him.
"Come on son. Let's go home," he said placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder, ushering him away.
"What about Lady? What about my girl?" Tommy pleaded.
"Not today, Tommy. We'll stop by the pound and see what they've got," his father said and began walking toward the guard by the gate. His eyes were lowered, avoiding Tommy’s.
Tommy fought to keep the lump rising in his throat down. He turned to Lucky Lady who gave him a slight nod, as though she appreciated his efforts. Then he was lost in the crowds.
"What happened dad? What did he say?" Tommy asked as he clicked his seatbelt on.
"He wouldn't sell her, son."
"But why? She didn't win. Why is he making her race when she doesn't want to?"
"You don't know that son. Dogs don't have feelings, not like humans."
"They do too," Tommy spat. "She told me. Not in words but she told me with her eyes. I saw it. She's tired, dad."
"There's nothing I can do, Tommy. The trainer uses her as a companion racer to his other dogs. He says they perform better when she's in the race with them."
"So he's using her."
"Tommy, she's a dog."
"That's not the point. She has rights."
"Well unless he's guilty of animal abuse there's very little you can do."
"What do you mean?" Tommy asked, sensing there might yet be hope.
"I mean unless you can prove the trainer is not providing her with adequate care then she'll remain under his ownership."
Tommy's mind whirred into activity. He knew what he had to do. It was his and Lucky Lady's only hope.
Whilst his dad was in the shower that evening Tommy grabbed the telephone and the yellow pages and made a call to the RSPCA. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he had to do it. He had to do it for Lucky Lady.
"Hello," he whispered down the receiver. "I'd like to report a dog trainer for abuse."
"Abuse you say?" replied the operator. "What kind of abuse?"
"Well, he...erm, he's making a dog race when she doesn't want to."
"And how do you know she doesn't want to race?"
"You'd know it if you saw her. Oh please you have to help me. She's really tired. He's making her race so his other dogs will win for him. It's not fair on her. She's old. She deserves better."
"Okay, okay," soothed the operator. "All I can do is notify an Animal Protection Officer and he'll investigate the circumstances. What's the name of the trainer?"
Tommy didn't know. He thumped the palm of his hand against his forehead. How could he not have found out the name of the trainer? How did he expect the RSPCA to do anything without that vital piece of information?
"I can't remember his name. But the dog's called Lucky Lady. She raced today," Tommy said suddenly remembering the programme his father had. With the receiver still in his hand he shuffled through the papers on the telephone table-lots of unopened mail and scribbled notes from phone calls-and found the programme. "Wait, I have it," Tommy said, scanning the Wilson Memorial Stake runners."Plimpton, Roger Plimpton."
"Okay. Can I take your name and telephone number so we can contact you with the outcome?"
Tommy eagerly gave her all she needed and was so pleased with himself it was only when he put down the receiver that he realised his dad would have to take that call. He was bound to be in big trouble for that but his dad's worst punishment couldn't compare to the agony of waiting a week for the outcome.

That week turned out to be the longest Tommy had ever endured. Every minute felt like an hour, and every hour felt like a week. When Saturday came he was so excited to see his dad he'd draped himself over the sofa and stared out of the living room window from the moment the sun rose over the rooftops. When his dad's silver Volkswagen pulled into the driveway Tommy grabbed his bag and shot out of the house like a bullet from a gun, forgetting to say bye to his mother.
"So I got a strange phone call on Thursday," was the first thing his dad said as Tommy buckled himself in. "From the RSPCA."
Tommy sheepishly fiddled with his bag in the foot well. His mind was burning to know what they said but guilt made him too afraid to look at his father.
"I thought you might know something about that," his dad said.
"I might. What did they say?"
"Well, they investigated the allegation of abuse," his dad said emphasising the word 'abuse' to make it clear that he wasn't in approval of Tommy's actions.
"And?"
"And there was no grounds for complaint as far as they could see. Her care and living conditions were considered adequate and within the law."
"What!" Tommy spat. "How can that be? Did they investigate thoroughly? Did they inspect the kennels? Did they even take a look at her?"
"Tommy that's enough," his dad said and slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. "It's bad enough that you used my phone without asking me and putting me in a difficult position by having to take that call, but to falsely report abuse against someone."
Tommy felt his heart sink into his feet.
"I know you meant well but what you did was wrong. Surely you can see that."
Tommy kicked his bag and stared out of the window. He was angry. Angry that Lucky Lady was still where she was and angry at himself for disappointing his father.
"I'm sorry, dad."
His dad's hand lightly ruffled Tommy's hair. "There's no real harm done. Let's forget about it, eh? So where do you want to go today?"
There was only one thing Tommy wanted to do.

Tommy snatched the programme from his father's hand and ran a trembling finger down the list of races. If he couldn't have her he at least wanted to know that she was okay.
And there she was, scheduled for the 2.50pm Ten Guinea Champions.
"Dad, she's here, she's here," Tommy said, waving the programme in his father's face before grabbing his arm and dragging down to the track fence.
The race wasn't due for another three hours but Tommy didn't care. He'd have waited all night if he had to. By the time Lucky Lady's race was due Tommy was so anxious he could hardly breathe. He leaned over the fence as far as he could and craned his neck round the throng of spectators. As the commentator called the runners names, one by one they came into view, like furry bullets about to be loaded into a gun.
Trailing at the back was the familiar sorrowful look of number five. Her leash was being thoughtlessly tugged by the man leading her. He was pulling so hard her collar was around her throat. Tommy wanted to cry out, to tell them to stop hurting her but over the cacophony of gamblers no-one would have heard him. All he could do was snarl and fight the sickening feeling inside him that was rising like a tide.
He rested his chin on the track fence and waited. The race seemed to take ages to start. Everything was in slow motion. The dog leaders ambled off the track as though they had nothing else to do, the baying of the greyhounds was lethargic and muffled and the idle chatter of the spectators sounded like it was under water. After the fake rabbit set off and the gates inched up the dogs bounded out with their forelegs extended, their muzzled snouts low and their eyes focussed on the ball of fluff fixed to the moving track on the fence. The last one out was number five.
Tommy felt it even before she left the starting gate; a flutter of panic in the pit of his stomach. As she rounded the first turn her gait suddenly became unsteady. She seemed to waver from side to side as though disorientated. The dogs in front of her were so far ahead there was a cloud of dust between them. By the time she was on the back straight her head was slumped almost trailing on the ground. She stumbled once, twice, three times. Tommy heartbeat and his breathing quickened. His white-knuckled fingers were clenched, and his nails were dug into the soft wood of the fence..
"Something's wrong, dad. Look at her. We have to do something," Tommy cried.
His dad looked down at him but the helpless frown on his face meant Tommy’s last hope now seemed to be lost.
As the greyhounds rounded the last corner, on the home stretch, Tommy struggled to keep his sight on Lucky Lady. She was so far behind he couldn't see her through the mist of dust and galloping dogs. When the first greyhound streaked past the finish line and the sand began to settle, Tommy saw her. She was staggering and tripping in the foot holes left by the greyhounds before her. Her tail was dragging through the ground and her back legs kept giving way beneath her. She was struggling, fighting to remain upright. Trying to do what she was trained to do; finish the race. Tommy was breathing so rapidly he was struggling for air. His chest felt like he had a hundred pound weight resting on it. He watched with despair as she collapsed ten feet from the finish.
"No!" Tommy screamed.
He leapt over the fence and scrambled towards her, kicking up sand with his heels as he went.
"Tommy come back," yelled his dad.
Tommy heard him but nothing was going to stop him.
By the time he reached her two vets were already at her side. One removed her muzzle and put an oxygen mask round her snout whilst the other performed what Tommy assumed was some sort of heart massage.
"What's wrong with her?" he pleaded.
"Stand back, Tommy," his dad said, gripping Tommy’s shoulders. "Let the vets do their job."
Tommy stared down at her, helplessly. She tried to lift her head up but when she couldn't she lifted a paw instead. Tommy kneeled down beside her and took it in his hand. He stroked her soft fur and whispered. "It's going to be okay. I'm here for you. They can't ignore this. You're going to be free now."
She spluttered a cough through her mask then whimpered. Her chest heaved up, down, up, then deflated like a balloon. Her deep black, almond eyes looked up at him. They were no longer tinged with sorrow or hopelessness, they now sparkled with happiness and relief. Tommy was sure of it. It was as though in her way she was telling him she was okay. Her eyes then softly closed andTommy felt her paw go limp in his hand.
"Lucky," Tommy whimpered.
He looked up at the vets, each one in turn. They both shook their heads at him.
"No. You have to do something. You can't leave her. You have to help her."
"Sorry, but she's gone," one said coldly and started to pack up his equipment, removing her mask.
"No, you have to carry on," Tommy cried as hot tears poured from his eyes and stung his cheeks. He leant over Lucky Lady and started to pump her chest. He had no idea what he was doing but if no-one was going to help her he was going to do it.
"Tommy, stop," his dad said, gently planting his hands on Tommy shoulders.
Tommy shook them off. "No. She needs help."
"Tommy, she's gone."
At that moment Lucky's trainer strolled over to Lucky's side. He glanced down at her.
"Damn it," he snapped.
Tommy glowered up at him. The rage within him was like a volcano about to explode. He wanted to beat that man. He wanted to pound him with his fists, kick his shins, punch his flat-capped head until bled. He did this to her; worked her into the ground.
"Do you want us to take her?" one of the vets asked the trainer.
"May as well. I've got no use for her now," he said coldly.
"No," Tommy exclaimed, sweeping the cuff of his jumper across his cheeks. "I'll take her."
"Tommy, don't be ridiculous," said his dad.
"I want to. P-please dad," Tommy snuffled. “We can bury her in the garden.”
"She's all yours, now," the trainer said blithely before striding back to the paddock.
The vets shrugged their shoulders.
"We'll take her," his dad said.

Tommy sat in the back of his dad's car with Lucky Lady's head resting on his lap. He stroked her gently. With his tears now dried, he mustered a smile and whispered down to her, "You'll be with me now, always!"