**The Purple Glasses**
**WILD.**
A scruffy, skinny dog yelped as a stone hit its paw. It ran as fast as its weak legs could carry it, not daring to look back. It knew the local boys were cruel, mean, dangerous. All it wanted was food. It was just a stray…
* * * *
Tommy stared at his mum, struggling to grasp what she was saying. He was nearly nine. In his life, there had never been a dad, never grandparents. He used to ask why, but the answers never made sense. Then, a year ago, Mark came into their lives. He’d shaken Tommy’s hand firmly, crouched down like he was talking to a little kid, and said, “You can call me Dad now.” At first, Tommy was thrilled—until he learned they weren’t just gaining Mark, they were moving into *his* house. He didn’t want to leave—his friends, his room, his toys. Mum promised they’d take everything, and he’d have a new room. “Friends? You’ll make new ones!” she’d said. But Tommy wasn’t convinced. He resented Mark and ignored him whenever he could.
* * * *
“Sweetheart, go play outside! Look at all the boys in the garden!”
“Mum, I don’t even know them…”
“Oh, Tommy, come on! I don’t know anyone here either—it’s hard for me too. But we’ll settle in, you’ll see! Just take the first step, and the rest’ll be easy. Look at that playground! Isn’t it brilliant?”
He did make friends quickly. The boys were a bit older, but they were fun.
“Look—Wild! Grab some stones, quick! Go on, go on!” Tommy snatched up stones like the others and sprinted after them. Near the bins at the far end of the garden, a limping dog hobbled toward the rubbish. The mutt was old, unsteady. Seeing the boys charging, it tucked its head low and bolted the other way. The chase continued until the dog vanished into the lilac bushes by Tommy’s front door.
“What’d it ever do to you?” Tommy yelled. “It’s harmless! Why’re you chasing it?”
“Are you thick? It’s a stray! Probably got rabies or something. All strays are dangerous!”
“But it didn’t even come near you! It just wants food! Stop it!”
“You’re mental!”
The boys left, and Tommy stood there shaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. He turned to the door—then froze. The dog was watching him from the bushes. Sad, wary eyes. *What if it really is wild?* The thought crept in. *What if it attacks?* He sped up, slamming the door behind him.
He couldn’t calm down. Later, once Mum was in the bath, he stuffed his pockets with bread, grabbed a couple of sausages, and slipped outside. “Wild… Wild…” he whispered.
The bushes rustled. A snout appeared. He threw a sausage, then another, then all the bread. The dog wolfed it down, gulping chunks, still glancing around. And just like that, their friendship began…
* * * *
“Tommy, got your tickets for the match! You in?” Mark grinned.
“Busy,” Tommy muttered, pouting.
It was always the same—whether it was a new train set, a trip to the fair, or cheeky burgers Mum scolded Mark for buying. Tommy always sulked. He didn’t like this bloke Mum was with. He wasn’t his dad. And he *definitely* wasn’t his mate.
“Tommy,” Mum smiled. “Remember how you always wanted grandparents?”
“Mmm,” he grunted.
“Mark and I booked leave—next week, we’re off to the countryside to see them! Two whole weeks! Won’t it be lovely?”
“Don’t care. Not going.”
“Oh? And what’s so important here?”
“Nothing! Just *nothing*! They’re *his* parents, not mine! Go with *him* then!”
“Thomas! Don’t you dare speak to me like that!”
“What’s all this then?” Mark walked in, catching the tail end of the row.
Tommy stormed off, slamming his bedroom door. He could hear Mum and Mark arguing—thought he even caught Wild’s name. He clamped his hands over his ears. Ever since Mark came along, Mum had *never* shouted at him like this…
“Alright, mate?” Mark clapped his shoulder. “What’s this ‘busy’ business, eh?”
“None of your business,” Tommy muttered, shrugging him off.
“Hey, no need for that. I’m just trying to help. Fancy showing me this Wild of yours?”
“H—how d’you know?” Tommy’s heart thudded. Mark just grinned. “Don’t tell Mum. *Promise*.”
“Why’s your pal such a secret?” Mark narrowed his eyes.
“The lads’ll take the mick. Mum’ll go spare.”
“Right, here’s the plan. Let’s take Wild to the countryside! My parents’ll love him—big garden, a proper kennel, loads of space. We’ll visit every weekend! Fresh air, birds singing… proper paradise.”
“Wild gets his *own* house? Really?”
“Scout’s honour! Thought you were a big lad now. Was gonna ask you fishing and all.”
“And Wild comes?”
“Course! We’re family, aren’t we?”
“Thanks… Dad.” Tommy flung his arms around him, tears pouring like rain, washing away every last bit of sadness.
