I am going to tell you my story. I am a dog, old and wise, and have seen many things and have many names, but you can call me Beatrix. When I was just a pup, my whole life revolved around my mother and six siblings. At a young age, I was taken by a human, and it changed my life. At this age, I knew almost nothing and was much like a lump of clay to be moulded. I was being trained as a truffle dog, and I hated it. If I made a mistake, I got a smack around the muzzle; if I succeeded, I got no reward. They do not treat pups like this anymore, but they used to, and it hurt.
I was auctioned to a rich Frenchman, whom I do not remember well, only that he had a son who was kind. His son, James, called me Beatrix, and I loved him more than anything, especially the long walks and pats on the head. When the war came, dogs were taken by the army, especially talented ones like truffle dogs. I remember clearly the last gift James gave me – a red ball wrapped in a teary hug and a long wave goodbye as a soldier dragged me away. I was taken to a large steamboat and put below deck. My greatest regret was dropping my ball on the way. My paws ached from the cold steel floor, and the smells and noises were overwhelming.
I was then taken to the trenches, and what a muddy hellhole that place was. The guns deafened me. I was used to carry messages between camps and had no particular home. I clearly remember the day I was shot. The sharp pain was worth being taken back to France to be a truffle dog again. When I returned, before I was sold, I persisted in finding my lost ball. I was shot in the paw in the trenches, so each day the search was a painstakingly long process. I didn’t find it.
I was sold again to another truffle hunter for a high price, considering I was a cripple and spent my days searching for the fungus on the large estate. I was growing old at that point, but I remember one day vividly. I put my nose to the ground and caught the scent of what I thought was a truffle. I marked it with my paw and returned at dusk. As I dug, I scented what I had lost, my ball! Having it, I realised all I wanted was to see James once again. Raising my nose, I caught his scent on the wind.
I left and, for the rest of my life, I will walk the vast hills and moors in search of him, limping through valleys and mountains with the ball in my mouth, a bullet in my paw, a truffle in my memory, and James in my heart.
THE END…?