Free My Dog Doesn't Like Me by Elizabeth Fensham Page B

light so that I had to feel my way to my bedroom.
    Ugly was waiting for me in there. I put my arms around him and leant my head into his hairy side.
    â€˜Don’t worry, boy,’ I said, but those were just words. There was plenty to worry about, and Ugly knew it.
    He licked my face and made snuffle sounds. I think he was saying, ‘I’m sad, too. But cheer up. Together we might just make it.’

Chapter Twenty-six
    Well, the big test day is over, but I still don’t know if Ugly and I have passed. It’s eight o’clock at night and I’m on my bed, writing this. Ugly and I are exhausted. He’s curled up next to me. Mum, Dad, Grandad and Maggie are in the kitchen making a final decision.
    In my head, I’ve been going through the tests Ugly and I did with Maggie, trying to figure out what she’d be thinking now. There were definitely some wins, but there were also some bad moments. Maggie called them ‘unfortunate’.
    So I’m trying to make a list of the good and the ‘unfortunate’ things that happened today. First off, we had to walk to the park. But to get to the park,
we had to pass Mrs Manchester’s house. Was that tease of a ginger cat going to be there? Please, no.
    But she was there – sitting up on the brick fence as if she owned the world. The look on Penelope’s face seemed to say, ‘I bet you, Ugly, that you won’t be able to control yourself when you see me here!’
    Sure enough, I could feel Ugly tense up on the leash. It would just be a couple of seconds before he’d rip free and take off. Maggie and I hadn’t done any chasing cat lessons, and I couldn’t count on Milly’s water pistol method, so I had to think for myself. I swung around to face Ugly so that I was between him and the cat. I gently pulled his leash upwards and at the same time lifted my hand above Ugly’s nose, as if I was going to rest a treat there.
    â€˜Sit!’ I said in a firm voice. I didn’t think he’d obey, but Ugly slowly sat down, the way dogs do when they really don’t want to. I slipped him a small treat, patted him, and told him he was good. Then I quickly looked over my shoulder.
    The cat was still sitting there, and I’m sure I saw a curtain in Mrs Manchester’s front window lift and fall. She was spying. I wasn’t going to let that woman and her smartypants cat wreck Ugly’s chances right at the start of his test. We couldn’t stand there forever waiting for the cat to move, but if we walked past her, I knew I’d lose control of Ugly.
    The only thing left to do was to not walk past Mrs Manchester’s house. But we couldn’t retreat and go back home; that would be failing, too. We still had to get to the park. I gave a quick tug on Ugly’s leash and said, ‘Walk!’
    I moved in a new direction, so that Ugly was walking away from the cat and towards the edge of the road, where I made him sit again. Then we crossed the road. We walked along the footpath on the other side of the road, past two houses, then I walked to the edge of the road, made Ugly sit again, and we crossed back again so we arrived just where the park was. Maggie was following, but she didn’t say anything.
    What happened in the park might also be a mixture of good and unfortunate. I’m waiting to hear what Maggie will say about it. Maggie was asking me to make Ugly sit, stay, and come. He was doing it okay, but Mrs Manchester suddenly arrived. She was holding a little boy’s hand. He looked about four years old. He climbed onto a swing and Mrs Manchester started to push him. Ugly rushed across to play with the boy. The boy laughed happily as Ugly showed off by running about in little circles. I walked across and held onto Ugly so that the boy could pat him.
    â€˜This is my grandson Jack,’ said Mrs Manchester.
    â€˜Hello, Jack,’ I said. ‘This is my