The Puppy Present. Jean Ure

squiggled. One of them gave the lady a big wet lick on the tip of her nose. The other wagged her tail as hard as she could go.

      “I really think I shall have to have both of them,” laughed the lady.

      And so the puppies were put into a big cardboard carrying box and taken out to the lady’s car, and Ginger was left on his own. Nobody to snuggle up to, nobody to play with. Just one small puppy in need of some people.

      Ginger crept forlornly into a corner of the cage and lay down with his head between his paws. Why didn’t anyone want him?

      “There’s always one that’s hard to get rid of,” said the pet shop owner.

      Poor Ginger! He didn’t realise it, but he was a very odd-looking puppy. He had one ear that stood up and one ear that hung down. His teeth stuck out and his face was all whiskery. He wouldn’t have won any prizes in a beauty competition.

      “Never mind, little fellow!” The pet shop man waved his fingers at him through the bars of the cage. “Somebody’ll take pity on you… sooner or later.”

      

      “Two days to go till Christmas,” said the pet shop owner. His eye met Ginger’s. It had been a week since the last of Ginger’s sisters had been taken away. Ginger had been all alone in his cage ever since.

      “Cheer up, little chap!” Even the pet shop owner was beginning to feel sorry for him. “We’ll find a home for you.”

      That very same morning, a lady came into the shop with her little girl. All they had really come in for was to look at the fish.

      “Oh, Mum!” The little girl had caught sight of Ginger. “They’ve got a puppy! Isn’t he cute?”

      “A bit funny-looking,” said her mum.

      “Mum, he’s not, he’s cute! Mum, do you think we could have him? For Christmas? Oh, Mum, please!” The little girl clutched at her mum’s arm. “Please, Mum! He could be my Christmas present!”

      “I thought you wanted fish?” said her mum.

      “I’d far rather have a puppy! Oh, please, Mum!”

      “Well… I don’t know.” The lady looked across at Ginger. Ginger looked back at her. The tip of his tail wagged, hopefully. “It’s a mongrel. Who knows what it’s going to grow into? It could grow enormous!”

      “He won’t grow too big,” said the pet shop owner. He pointed at Ginger’s paws. “Tiny paws, see?”

      “Oh, Mum, please! He looks so lonely, all by himself.”

      The little girl ran across to the cage. Ginger’s tail began to fly in circles. He jumped up, with his paws against the netting. Desperately, he scrabbled to get out.

      “Mum, he’s asking us!” cried the girl. “He’s asking as plain as can be! He wants us to take him.”

      Ginger renewed his efforts. All the time that he was jumping, he was making little crying sounds.

      “He’s begging us, Mum! We can’t just leave him here. Not at Christmas. Oh, Mum! Say we can have him! Please!”

      And so the lady gave in. She bought Ginger as a Christmas present for her little girl, because the little girl wanted him so badly, and Ginger himself had asked so nicely.