He emptied the biscuit crumbs into his cupped hand, and let Paddywack lick them off. “Don’t you worry, old son, we’ll have plenty of biscuits in the tent, and plenty of bacon butties too. I want to be out there at Fairlawns by first light tomorrow morning. We’ll pitch our tent, put up our banner and stay there for as long as it takes.”

The next morning, drivers on their way to work in town saw a bright orange tent pitched on the wide grass verge by the road in front of the Fairlawns Nursing Home. Beside it sat an old man in a tatty-looking duffle coat and a blue and white striped bobble hat, and right next to him stood a greyhound almost the same golden colour as the leaves on the tree above them. Behind them and above them, strung out between the branches hung a huge banner. Painted across it in multi-coloured letters was: SITTING HERE TILL FAIRLAWNS IS SAVED! HOOT TO SAVE FAIRLAWNS!

Hardly a driver passed by without hooting that morning. It was a great and hopeful start, and it got better. By lunchtime every single one of the old people from Fairlawns had made their way down the drive at one time or another, to the grass verge to see them, even Miss Carter in her motorised wheelchair. Suddenly she seemed to be her old self again. It was a sunny autumn day, a bit blustery with leaves flying, but still warm enough for each of them to stay there with Joe and Paddywack for a few minutes. They’d wave in delight as the cars and lorries drove by, hooting and honking their support. The matron, Mrs Bellamy, was there most of the time, making sure that none of the old people stayed out there too long or got too cold. It was Mrs Bellamy’s idea to invite Paddywack back into the house.

“Look at him, Joe, he’s shivering from head to tail,” she said. “We’ll have him inside for a while and get him out of this wind.”

Paddywack found himself being led up to the house and into the warmth of the sitting room where he at once became the centre of attention. He lay down in front of the fire and toasted himself, until all his shivers were gone. Whenever the old people called him over he would go and stand there beside them, and be stroked and adored for a while. For food he simply followed his nose to the kitchen and waited there until someone noticed him and fed him, which sooner or later they always did. And sometimes, when he heard the front door open, he’d nip out and trot down the drive to be with Joe again. He’d sit down right against Joe’s leg, resting his head on his knee. He could doze easily that way, and as Joe already knew, Paddywack loved dozing even more than eating.

So for the next few days Paddywack was in and out of Fairlawns all day long, a pure delight for the old people to whom he was a new and welcome distraction, and a great source of joy. And what they loved best of all was to see him running, on the great wide lawn under the tree of heaven. Mrs Bellamy would throw sticks for Paddywack to chase after and retrieve, and sometimes Paddywack’s sheer zest for running would take over and he’d forget the stick and go off on several laps of honour, racing round and round the tree of heaven, faster and faster, scattering fallen leaves. All the old people watching from the sitting room window would burst into applause. He made them feel young again, feel hopeful again. And for Joe, even as cold and tiredness set in, Paddywack was becoming the best of companions, a true and trusted friend. They’d spend the nights huddled together in the tent, keeping each other warm as best they could.