Free The Dog With Nine Lives by Della Galton Page A

and so I phoned Helen, who runs it, and asked her to keep us in mind next time she was in need of a foster carer.
    A few weeks later, Helen contacted me and asked me if I’d look after Max, a young collie she’d just picked up from a sanctuary in Ireland. She had several people interested in him, which meant it would probably only be a very short term fostering.
    And so Max came to stay. To say he was scared would be an understatement. He’d never lived in a house before – he’d come from a farm in Ireland, where apparently he’d spent most of his short life tied to a gate. On his first day he wouldn’t come inside. He sat at the back door gazing in at us, but he wouldn’t step over the threshold.
    When I wanted to get him in I’d have to go outside and kind of herd him in. After a few days he began to trust me a little more, but he still wouldn’t come into the house unless I was standing well clear of the doorway. Then he’d shoot in at top speed and sit on my foot.
    â€˜It’s so you can’t kick him,’ Tony said. He was only half joking. Poor Max had come from a background where he’d swiftly learned that human feet were to be avoided.
    In fact, his previous owners had phoned up the sanctuary in Ireland and said, ‘If you don’t take this dog, we’re chucking it over a cliff.’
    Nice people!
    But actually they probably weren’t too bad as ex-owners go. At least they phoned up the sanctuary and didn’t carry out their threat. I was so glad they had. Max was the most adorable dog. I fell in love with him almost immediately and so did Tony.
    Lindy took him under her wing too. She was a great dog to have around with foster dogs. She was maternal and calm and infinitely gentle with them. She showed them what was what, she demonstrated that our laps were a good place to be, as was the sofa, and that it wasn’t necessary to bolt your food – or indeed to steal hers – because there was plenty to go around. And little by little they got used to the routines of the house and they learned to trust.
    It has always amazed me how forgiving dogs are. No matter what they have gone through in the past they are always ready to believe that things can get better. I have learned an awful lot from dogs.
    Anyway, as Helen had said, lots of people were interested in re homing Max. The perfect home came along very quickly. A couple called Andrew and Dominique who had lost their collie the previous year were looking for another one. They had been looking for a while – they didn’t want a replacement but they wanted a dog who really needed love. They had no children, Andrew worked from home, they went walking in their spare time, and they were obviously avid dog lovers.
    If they hadn’t been absolutely the perfect home for Max I wouldn’t have let him go – I’d have kept him myself. Tony and I were both besotted with him. But, as Helen so wisely pointed out, I could help a lot more dogs if I let Max go. I cried quite a bit when he went, but actually we do still see him and occasionally he comes to stay with us for his holidays – so we had the best of both worlds.
    One sunny afternoon a couple of weeks later Helen phoned me again. ‘I’d like you to foster Rosie for a while. She’s another difficult one. She came from a horrendous background – it’s probably best if I don’t tell you what the owners used to do to her – suffice to say she’s a terrified little dog and needs a quiet home to recuperate.’
    Rosie turned out to be a rather beautiful brindlecoloured Staffie mix. She probably had some greyhound in her too – she had long legs and a slender body but her head was unmistakeably Staffie.
    Helen was right. Rosie was even more terrified than Max had been. For her first few days she cowered in the indoor dog kennel and wouldn’t come out. I left her to it, although of course