Free Frankie and Stankie by Barbara Trapido

Crickets”.’
    Peter appreciates that making the illustrated programmes for the theatricals has taken all afternoon and, unlike Ken Hill, their dad’s other colleague, he will sit patiently in the centre of the row of dining chairs and study his programme respectfully. He never criticises their spelling – not like Ken Hill who says out loud, ‘Beetles and Cry-kets?’ in a sniffy sort of way, just because they’ve spelled it ‘crikets’ by mistake.
    One day Peter and the girls’ dad go walking. They do a lot of puzzling as they walk and they forget how far they have gone. Theywalk all along Musgrave Road, as far as Mitchell Park where the air is thick with screaming mynah birds descending on their appointed roosting tree. Only then do they realise that they’ve been followed by an eager little black dog – a Scottish terrier crossbred with something a little more elongated – though in the years to come Lisa and Dinah will always say firmly, ‘He’s a pedigree,’ whenever people ask. Peter and the girls’ dad retrace their steps hoping that the dog will go home at some point, but he follows them all the way back to the Butcher Estate and walks in through the front door. He’s wagging his tail expectantly. Lisa and Dinah are ecstatic. They hug him and roll around on the floor with him, while their dad says, ‘Don’t encourage him.’ The dog has a drink of water out of a pie dish and he spends the night on a folded blanket on the kitchen floor. In the morning he’s still there, wagging his tail and running his tongue along his muzzle most charmingly to suggest that it’s time for some breakfast.
    That afternoon the girls’ dad and Peter Bullen retrace their steps once more. They do this for three days running, and each time the eager little dog just walks along with them all the way to Mitchell Park and all the way back again. Each time Dinah and Lisa are in a fever of anxiety, lest their dad should return without the dog. Finally, on day four, he does. The dog has heard a faint whistle from within a house on Musgrave Road. He’s pricked up his ears and scurried off inside. Lisa and Dinah can’t stop themselves from crying. They just know that he’s meant to be their dog and now he’s gone. They are still crying an hour later, when there’s a familiar scratch at the front door, and there is the little black dog, panting and smiling and wagging his tail fit to burst.
    Next day, Ta walks the dog back to the house on Musgrave Road, where he introduces himself to the occupants and tells his story. The occupants are an old retired doctor and his wife, who thank him and promise to keep the dog locked up for a few days until he changes his ways. The dog’s name is Punch, but it should really be Houdini because, by the time Ta gets home, Punch has already made it back to the Butcher Estate before him. For two weeks the girls’ dad goes back and forth; Punch is tied up and locked up, until the elderly couple finally admit defeat. Punch has always been very fond of children, they explain, and now that their own children have grown up and flown the nest, Punch has got itchy feet.
    â€˜You’d better keep him,’ they say.
    So they hug him goodbye and hurry inside.
    The girls are celebrating. Punch is theirs. He loves them best in all the world. He’s proved it. He’s chosen them. He has singled them out from the multitude. For years Punch is the girls’ best friend. They take him everywhere, though he’s a demon for dog fights and can’t leave anything in canine form alone. He aborts every picnic outing by needing stitches as a result of canine spats along the way – incidents always initiated by himself. And at the vet he lets it be known that he doesn’t approve of residential care, by frequently escaping from the surgery to return home trailing bloodied bandages. Lisa and