MIRACLE OF BIRTH

A strange thing is happening. Mum and I are walking home from the beach and can hardly see where we’re going as a sea mist has come in.

But we can hear things – an odd sort of snorting and stomping. So we stop and listen. Suddenly I see the ponies. Most of them are standing quite still, in a kind of circle. One, though, seems a bit frantic and now throws herself on to the ground.

What’s wrong with her? I look up at Mum, who shakes her head as if expecting me to disgrace myself. Then we are both drawn into the circle and somehow into the herd. I feel bigger, thinking of myself as part of this family, and I also feel important – too important to bark, or disappoint Mum or the ponies.

Something weird is going on … something that I mustn’t interrupt. Mum and I keep very still … watching and waiting.

The mare stands up and starts stomping again. Her tail lifts and a kind of bubble comes under it.

Before I can take this in, she’s back on the ground again and now the stallion edges forward, putting a front hoof on her big belly as if telling her that he’s helping.

The bubble is getting bigger and bigger until I slowly realize that it isn’t a bubble at all. I can see two little hooves and, as I watch, a whole foal eventually appears and tries again and again to stand up on wobbly legs.

We wait until it is standing on all four legs and then Mum whispers softly: “Well, Sam, now that we’ve witnessed the miracle of birth I reckon it’s time to go home and have breakfast!”

PUPPY LOVE

Maybe you’re expecting me to tell you more about Leo. But I’m not going to! He’s a cute little fellow – and that’s all I plan to say about him today. Except that I was probably cuter at the same age …

I’ve just crossed the river dividing Three Cliffs Bay. I did it because Mum told me not to. Now she’s calling me to return to her side of the river but I’m pretending to be deaf. This should get her attention!

Keeping all my paws on the sand I’m watching her. And she’s watching me while calling my name. Is she wishing little Leo lived with us, instead of in Cornwall with my sister? I think she is – and that she misses him and Joanna now that they are in their own home.

Well, she’s got me, hasn’t she? And I can keep her busy to ease the ‘missing’!

Mum’s coming across. The current’s a bit strong and the water’s quite deep today, after all the rain.  Oops, it’s going over the top of her boots! How do I know this? Because Mum’s complaining, loudly, about it …

Now she’s grabbing my collar, snapping on my lead and saying: “I know what you’re doing, Sam, and there’s no need.”

I look up at her, enquiringly, as she removes a boot to tip the water out of it and then repeats the process. “How do you mean?” I bark.

“You are, and always will be, my number one chap. Do you understand?”

My doggy heart lifts and I lick her hand.

 

LEO'S ADVENT

I have a sister.  Did you know that?  Her name is Joanna and although Mum calls her my 'sister' she has two legs and hair just on her head instead of all over like me.

Well, Joanna is ever so excited because on Monday she will be bringing this little fellow (he's a Tibetan terrier, I'm told) into her home.

She has called him Leo because she thinks he looks like a lion.  I think he looks sleepy - and that he has a lot of growing to do before he's at all lion-like!

LOST IN THE RHONDDA

I can’t find Mum.  I’ve been looking everywhere for her, but she has vanished!  I can’t understand what’s happened.  She brought me up this mountain and then abandoned me.  Why would she do that?

It isn’t her usual sort of behaviour.  And this mountain, high above Maerdy, is very steep.  I’m worried that she has fallen and that this is why I can’t see her anywhere.  If she’s lying down, with so much long grass about, how am I going to find her?

I’m sniffing, to pick up her scent, but haven’t picked it up yet.  Wherever can she be?

I can see the ewe I had a chat with just recently.  She’s watching me warily.  Don’t ask me why she’s wary.  When I ran over to her I only wanted to see if she needed me to escort her to the other sheep.  But she seemed to think I was about to chase her – or hurt her, which would be far worse.

I would never hurt a sheep – or a seagull.  Why on earth don’t the silly things know that?  Sheep are too silly to stay together without some help and as for gulls – well, some day I’ll finally find one willing to give me a flying lesson!

Not today, though.  There aren’t any gulls on Maerdy mountain and, besides, Mum is on my mind.

How will I get home from here, if I can’t ever find her?  And how will she get home if she has fallen down and can’t get up again?

“Mum, can you hear me?” I bark, hoping against hope that she will answer.

But she doesn’t.  There’s silence, except for silly sheep bleating.  Oh heck!  Could it be that I lost Mum when I ran off to say “Hello!” to the ewe?

Is that when it all went wrong?  Perhaps Mum tried to follow me and found two legs less secure on a steep mountainside than four.  Perhaps her loss is all my fault …

“Sam, Sam … where are you, Sam?”

That’s her voice!  “Here I am,” I answer, racing in the direction it’s coming from.

Now – blessed relief – I can see her.  But she doesn’t look happy.  Why’s that?

“I’ve been worried sick,” she tells me.  “When you chased that sheep and completely disappeared, terrible thoughts went through my head … of losing you and never finding you again on this unfamiliar territory.”

I try to tell Mum that I wasn’t chasing the sheep, but I don’t think she believes me.  How distrusting she can be!

When I lick her hand, she pats my head and says: “All’s well that ends well!  Let’s go home, shall we, my scallywag Sam?”

‘Scallywag’ is a brand new word for me, but from Mum’s smile I deduce that it’s complimentary …

BAD SAM

Mum says I'm a bad boy, but I don't quite understand why. We're on the beach - and there's nobody else around, as you can see.

Well, actually, there is one somebody. He's fishing and just isn't in this picture.

Seeing him there, in the distance, I also saw his picnic. It was with his jacket on the sand - and he was showing no interest in it.

So I naturally ran over to have a little sniff.  But his picnic was in a sort of box, so it was hardly worth sniffing.  I didn't try to steal it as I'm not that kind of a dog. I had to do something, though, to show I'd passed by.  What did I do?

If you haven't already guessed ... I lifted my leg!

P.S. Mum says to tell you that she has started a Facebook page about me - and that she'd love to hear from you with your dog stories. 

SINK OR SWIM

I can see a seagull who’s nearly within my reach.  I think I can catch this one and get him to talk to me.  I won’t hurt him, of course.  I only want to talk.

There must be a seagull who will talk to me and tell me how to do as he does.  Maybe this is the one!  So I run as fast as my legs will carry me – faster, even.  Mum’s calling, but I can’t ask her what she wants.  I’m a bit busy, which I expect she can see.

Pobbles is a big beach and the seagull and I are reaching the end of it.  Now he’s flying … and, wow, so am I!  Up and up I go – but he’s still high above me.  Why is he?

I’m soon finding out why.  I’m riding a great wave, while his wings have lifted him up towards the sky.  His feathers are dry, whereas my fur is wet and soggy and I’ve nowhere to put my paws. My bit of beach has disappeared and I … I’m frightened!

Where’s Mum when I need her?

Suddenly I’m standing on something.  This isn’t soft sand.  It’s hard and slippery and the sea’s all around me.  Waves are trying to knock me off my rock.  This is really scarey.

I can see Mum now.  She’s standing on a rocky ledge looking across the sea at me.  “Help!” I bark.  Then, in case she thinks I’m pretending, I bark again: “Help!”

How did I get here?  I don’t remember.  One minute I was running on the sand, and the next minute there was no sand … only sea, till this rock found me.

The seagull’s laughing – and I know who he’s laughing at.  He isn’t a very friendly chap.

Now Mum’s talking to a man.  The man has a dog that he seems to be leaving with Mum while he … wades through the water towards me.  I cling to my rock, thinking that perhaps the man will lift me from it and carry me to safety.

But I was wrong!  He has just pushed me off …

I’m now swimming towards Mum, up on her rocks.  I don’t mind swimming, but I prefer to feel beach beneath my paws.  Whatever happened to the beach?

“It’s the spring tide,” says my rescuer as he finally reaches Mum and me.  “The sea here can be treacherous after a new moon like last night’s.  So let that be a lesson to you, young Sam!”

“How did you do as you did?” Mum asks him, after expressing her thanks.  “I mean, weren’t you worried about drowning?”

“I waited for the seventh wave,” he tells her, as if this explains everything.  “That helps to minimize the risks.  But to be risk-free, Sam’s best bet is to forget seagulls’ antics and remember his doggy ancestry!”

PUPPYHOOD

A friend just sent her this picture, which Mum says reminds her of me when I was a puppy! I'm not sure whether to feel insulted ...

DISCOVERING RED MUD

We’re on a visit to Mum’s relatives, Barbara and David.  They live in an oast house in Shropshire.  It has a big garden, with lots of birds and rabbits.  David sometimes slips me a biscuit when Mum and Barbara aren’t looking.

This morning, before breakfast, Mum took me for a long walk in the nearby countryside.  She said this was to tire me out before she goes off shopping with Barbara, leaving me to guard David – who she says is getting old and needs peace and quiet.

That’s fine!  I’ll pretend to be tired so that Mum doesn’t worry about me being a nuisance while she’s out and about.

They are leaving now and David is settling into his armchair by the fire.  He opens his newspaper, so I might as well go to sleep.

I’m just dreaming that I’ve been given a big juicy bone when I hear him say: “Walkies!”

Am I still dreaming? No, David is on his feet and heading for the kitchen, where he pulls on some Wellington boots. He doesn’t seem to see any need for my lead.

Goody! Maybe this means I can do the things I couldn’t do on my walk with Mum.  Yes, it does!  First chance I get, I throw myself into some wonderful mud.  This is a different colour from our mud back home and as I roll around, blissfully kicking my legs in the air, it sticks to my coat.

“Sam, Sam,” shouts David (who, Mum told me, has never had a dog of his own), “what on earth do you think you’re doing?  Come out of there at once!”

But I’m having much too much fun.  So I go deaf, which is a trick I’ve perfected.

I give a little bark, though, to show that I’m happy to be having this unexpected mud bath. I’m not sure how happy Mum will be, when she sees me, because after grooming me yesterday she told me to stay in my pristine state.  Except she didn’t explain what ‘pristine’ means …

David is now muttering something about cream carpets and about our little escapade not going down well with Barbara.

Eventually, he gets hold of my collar and marches me back to the house, where he shuts me into the kitchen with a big frown on his face.  Am I in disgrace?

It seems so, when Barbara and Mum get home.  Mum looks at me as if she’s never seen me before.  “Wherever have you been, to get in that state?” she asks me.  “And how did you get out?”

“That’s down to me,” David tells her sheepishly.  “I thought I’d take him for a walk.”

“Without his lead,” Mum queries, “when this whole area is notorious for its sticky red mud?”

“That was short-sighted of me,” David agrees.  “Let me help you hose him down.”

The water from the hose is freezing cold.  I’m beginning to wish David had stayed in his armchair and just given me a biscuit!

CAKE FOR TEA

I heard Mum say we're having cake for tea as it's my first birthday.  My friend Doodle is here with her Mum - and other friends, plus my sisters, are coming.  I've seen the cake. It's big, with chocolate and cream and cherries on top.  Mum has put it right at the back of the kitchen worktop to defrost.

Nobody is in the kitchen.  They're still out in the garden, chatting.  That's a waste of cake, isn't it?

I think I'll go and see how it's getting along. Doodle's coming with me.  But she's smaller than I am and when I put my front paws onto the worktop she can only watch from the floor.  No, I got that wrong!  She's doing her best to jump up but her best isn't quite good enough.

"Don't worry!" I tell her.  "We can share it."

I find that by stretching forward I can just get my teeth into the cake.  The more I stretch, the more I can eat.  "Remember me?" says Doodle.

With a bit of manoeuvring I manage to bring the cake close enough to put a paw in it and scoop some up.  Once I bring this onto the floor Doodle tucks in too and I'm soon licking cream from her nose so that our Mums don't suspect us of wrongdoing.

"What on earth are you two up to?"

It's Mum talking and now she's in the kitchen with us.  "Nothing!" we tell her in unison.

"You can't expect to look innocent with such evidence all around you," she says, sounding cross for some reason.  "That Black Forest Gateau wasn't meant for you - and I can't believe you could reach it, Sam, there at the back of the worktop.  I tend to forget you've been growing at a rate of knots.  If it hasn't fully defrosted - or even if it has - all that cream and chocolate will very likely make you sick, which you'll deserve for doing as you did."

"But it's my birthday," I protest, "and you said there'd be cake for tea!"

Her face softens.  "I've baked special doggy cakes, with healthier ingredients. As I'm sure you never meant to be bad, you and Noodle can have one of those each later - assuming you've room for more cake?"

In answer to that we both wag our tails ...

BIRD TALK

Hey - this is great! He's waiting for me for a change. Maybe now he'll tell me his secret so that I can do as he does.

"Hello!" I say, slowly closing the gap between us. Slowly seems to be the way to do this. I've tried other ways and failed. "Please stay and chat for a bit."  

"What have we got to chat about?" he asks me suspiciously, lifting his wings and then lowering them again.  "We've nothing in common that I know of.  Besides, I never talk to dogs."

"I'm not just any dog," I tell him.  "And more than anything else, I want to fly like you do."

He laughs at me.  I don't like being laughed at.  But that doesn't matter.  Nothing matters except getting into the air. "I can't help you with that," he said, "unless ... "

"Unless what?"

"Unless you turn yourself into a bird.  You don't need to be a gull like me, necessarily, but it must be obvious even to you that without wings you're destined never to fly."

"I don't believe in 'never' - and you don't, either."

"How would you know that about me?"

"Because you said you never talk to dogs, yet we're talking, aren't we?"

"I suppose we are.  Well, then, to reward your persistence I could give you a lesson!"

"You could?" My next 'woof' sounds more like a 'whoop'. "Thanks a million."

"Save your thanks till you're airborne.  Now watch me carefully and than do exactly as I do."  

He opens his wings, flaps them once and is suddenly lifted up on a gust of sea air.  I run as fast as my legs will carry me - then jump higher than I've ever jumped.  But it is not high enough.  I bark at the gull, who is now right above me: "What do I do next?"

He just calls the other gulls to come and watch my efforts.

They're seeing me as a figure of fun.  That's a bit much!

One day I'll show them my true colors - not today, though, as I've run out of puff!

TABLE MANNERS

Mum is not herself.  I can tell because I know her very well.  She is tense as she sits at the table with Megan.  I put my paw on her knee and she smiles at me.  But it’s only half a smile, really.

Now I see what the problem might be.  Mum gets cross if I even put my front paws on our table at home.  Here, though, there’s a cat stepping over the plates and bowls! 

The question is, do I just bark at him – or jump up to send him packing?  While I’m deciding, Mum puts her hand on my head and strokes it gently.  This suggests she trusts me to do the right thing – and as it was wrong to chase the kitten it would probably be wrong to take action over the cat.

I stay where I am.  This isn’t easy as two of Megan’s dogs are pushing past me looking for scraps.  Then the cat drops down from the table into Mum’s lap.

Megan says: “You’re honoured!  Sheba shies away from strangers as a rule, but she seems to be settling down nicely with you.  Help yourself to more salad else it’ll only go to waste.  Salad’s the one thing I can rely on my lot not to snaffle.”

“Thanks, but I’ve had plenty already,” says Mum.  “You’ve been more than generous, Megan.”

“I’ve hardly started yet!  We’ll get to the pudding once we’ve cleared these dishes.  Pass me down that blue bowl from the shelf above your head and I’ll bring in the cream from the kitchen.”  I looked up to where she and Mum were looking – and saw the well-licked kitten helping himself to the bowl’s contents.  “Just push Tigger off it and no harm done – as long as there’s some rice pud left!” says Megan.

But Mum’s looking at her watch and asks:  “Gosh, is it three already?  I’m so sorry, Megan, but Sam and I are due in town in half-an-hour.  I can’t believe the time has flown so fast.”

“You’re leaving already?  Oh, there’s a pity!  Well, never mind – come back soon, both of you, and we’ll pick up where we left off.”

“Thank you - we’ll certainly do that!” Mum tells her as Megan slips me a biscuit and we depart.

I lick Megan’s hand to tell her that I’ve enjoyed her hospitality, even if Mum hasn’t.

LUNCH AMONG THIEVES

Today we’re on our way to Megan’s for lunch. Mum says that she lives quite near us, but in a different world.  I don’t understand what that means. Mum tells me I’ll soon see.

We’ve just crossed the stretch of moor opposite our front gate and have now reached a place called Sandy Lane.  There’s plenty of sand here – and something else as well.  Lots of ‘somethings’ I suddenly realize: wooden houses dotted about higgledy-piggledy!

I wouldn’t know they were made of wood but for Mum explaining that this, plus the sea winds, is why they are only one storey high. It’s great the way she explains things to me, so during explanations I always look at her intelligently. 

I can see chickens … and geese … and hear barking.  Now a big, black fellow on guard rushes up to us and barks: “You aren’t allowed in my garden!”

That’s good, because he doesn’t look at all friendly.

Will Megan’s dogs and cats be friendly, or will they try to stop us entering their place?  I look up at Mum and she smiles at me, saying: “We wouldn’t be invited if we weren’t welcome, Sam.  If we just stand our ground all will be well.”

Mum knows best, I tell myself as we reach a little house surrounded by a big garden filled with doggy sounds.  I shrink back as Bracken bounds towards me, baring his teeth.  Remembering Mum’s words, I tell him fiercely: “You aren’t impressing me!”

This surprises him and he turns to look at Megan, who’s standing on her doorstep clapping her hands.  “That’s quite enough of your nonsense,” she tells Bracken and his pack of smaller dogs.  “Remember your manners and stand back to let our guests in!”

With a lot of jostling they do as they're told and I breathe again. Mum and I walk down the garden path and through Megan’s front door, following her into a room containing more chairs than I’ve ever seen in one area.

Before I can blink, every chair has an occupant.  All the dogs are hastily showing me that they belong here and own a special space.  Some even share a chair.  Then I see that a few of the occupants are not dogs.

A kitten glares at me and spits: “Keep your distance Sam!”

It takes more than a kitten to worry me.  I show my superiority by bounding over to him.  He’s on the floor instantly and I’m right behind him as he reaches the kitchen.  Then, with one impressive leap, he’s on the table where there’s a big pan of something very smelly.

Next thing I know, he’s in the pan – tipping it till it tumbles on to the lino right beside me.

This stuff has a great taste!  Suddenly all the dogs are here and we’re competing to see who can lick it up fastest.  I find I’m slower than the others.  Is that what comes of having no sisters or brothers?

I hear Mum saying: “Sam, how many times do I have to tell you not to chase cats?”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” says Megan.  “He’s young yet, with a lot to learn.  He and Archie between them have saved me dishing up the dogs’ dinner.  Let him lick Archie clean.  He might have a better attitude to cats after that.”

I must say that I like her attitude – and maybe cats aren’t so bad!

MIXED BLESSINGS

Mum is photographing me with Megan and her family.  There are lots of them, as you can see.  Actually, there are more than these.  Bracken, the biggest - and their pack-leader - has just led two of his followers from the picture.

I'm hoping he won't come back for a bit.  I don't know what to make of him.  He growls a lot and sometimes bares his teeth.  I don't think he likes me.

Mum says I needn't worry as his bark's worse than his bite, but I'm not so sure.  To be on the safe side, I try always to steer well clear of him.

Trouble is, he's a greyhound and can probably run even faster than I can.  We haven't put that to the test yet.  It's a pity that Mum is friends with Megan when there are plenty of other people to be friends with.

Now that our picture has been taken, Megan is saying something to Mum:

"Would you and Sam like to come to us, tomorrow, for lunch?"

"That would be lovely," says Mum, without consulting me.  "What time would you like us to arrive?"

"Around one o'clock," Megan tells her.  "You'll both be able to meet the rest of my family."  Then she turns to me, asking:  "You like cats, don't you Sam?  I had ten at the last count, so it's best if you like them."

Ten cats plus Bracken ... oh heck!

HELPING THE PONIES

The ponies are thirsty.  They just told me over the hedge that the hot weather has dried up their water supply.  Mum and I need to help them.  I’d better tell her!

She’s chatting on the telephone so I’ll wait for her to stop.  Then I’ll get her attention better than if I talk while she’s talking.  I’ve found this out through trying different tactics and seeing which ones work best.

But she’s taking too long!  If she talks for much longer the ponies will be gone.  They’ll take off, looking for a drink somewhere else – and maybe they won’t find one.  I think Mum needs prompting about the problem.

“Come with me!” I urge her, tugging at her skirt.  “Come quickly!”

“Sam’s behaving oddly,” she says into the phone.  “He’s acting as if there’s a crisis.  I doubt there is, but you never know.  I’d better go and see what’s what.”

She follows me as I run into the front garden.  The ponies haven’t left.  They are still on the other side of the hedge, pawing the dry ground and whinnying.  There seem to be lots of them.

“They need a drink,” I tell Mum, in case she can’t tell for herself.

“I don’t think I’ve enough carrots to go round,” she says, counting heads.

“Well, carrots would be welcome, I expect – but water would be better!” I tell her.

Then I get a good idea.  I’ve seen how she often waters the garden, so I run over to the thing like a big worm and bark at it.

“The hosepipe!” Mum says.  “That’s so clever, Sam!  We can poke it through the hedge and the ponies can drink to their hearts’ content.”

I love it when Mum praises my cleverness – and now my pony friends are happily slurping the water that’s reaching them.

FRIENDSHIP

I’m happy to have Doodle for my friend.  As Maggie and Mum are now friends too I can see plenty of walks ahead.

Today, though, we’re visiting a different friend of Mum’s.  This one has lost her husband.  Her name is Barbara and she’s crying when we arrive at her house.  “I miss him so much!” she tells us.

I love Barbara because she always talks to me as well as to Mum.  She has a cat, but I don’t mind that.  I do mind that she’s so sad.  Once she and Mum are sitting down, I sit beside Barbara and put my paw on her knee.

“Oh, bless you, Sam!” she says, stroking my head.  “You always know how to comfort me.”  Then she tells Mum: “I can’t bear to look at Archie’s empty chair.  I keep expecting to see him there.”

I look where she won’t look … and there’s Archie, sitting in his chair, same as ever.  So he is not lost!  I go over to him, hoping Barbara will see that she’s mistaken.  I lick the hand that he holds out to me.

Mum says: “Look at Sam.  What do you think he’s doing?”

I watch as Barbara slowly turns towards Archie and me.  After a long time she answers:  “He can see something we can’t see.”

“Something – or someone,” says Mum.  “I remember this happening with a cat once.  Sam saw Peter after he’d passed on.”

Barbara’s face changes; her eyes have a new kind of light in them.  “Can you see Archie?” she asks me.

I bark: “Of course I can!”

“That’s unbelievable,” says Barbara, “and yet I can’t disbelieve you, Sam.  Thank you for showing me that Archie has only gone beyond my vision – and that in essence he’s still here with me.  I think it’s time to put the kettle on for a soothing cup of tea!”

PRETTY GIRL

She looks just like me, except she’s smaller – and prettier!  She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.  Her hair’s tied back with a bow, so her eyes are showing.  They are smiling at me and she seems pleased to see me, same as I am to see her.

Her nose is close to mine now and her fur is flying about as we bounce around getting to know one another.  This is wonderful fun! 

“It looks like love, doesn’t it?” says Mum to my new friend's human.  “It’s just occurred to me that your little girl is the first Beardie Sam has seen since leaving his brother and sisters.  So no wonder he’s showing such interest!  It’s as if their paws are on springs.”

“Beardies have built-in bounce, haven’t they?  I’m Maggie, by the way – and that’s Doodle.”

Our Mums are happy, chatting, and so are we.  Doodle runs off down the path to Pobbles and I run after her.  After a bit we both stop for a sniff and take time too to sniff each other.  “Have you been here before?” I ask.

“Of course!” she answers.  “But I’ve never seen you here.  Are you just a visitor?”

“No!” I tell her indignantly.  “We live quite near.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Mum and me.”

She turns away, saying: “Race you into the sea!”

That’s my kind of challenge and I’m off before Doodle, who isn’t expecting me to move so soon.  I can see a gull just ahead on a higher level and he’s challenging me too, telling me that I’ll never run as fast as he can fly.

But I shall, because I’ve been practising … and because some day I’ll grow wings.  Faster and faster I run, down the path and across the beach.  Now I’m in the sea, with Doodle splashing in behind me and saying: “You started before I was ready!”

“Did I?”

“You know you did.  All the same, it was a good win.  Will we be racing again after this, do you think?”

I can tell from her question that she wants us to be friends, which makes me feel warm and sort of fuzzy.  I answer with hope in my heart: “Yes, we’d better be!”

Just then I hear Mum calling:  “Sam – time to go home.  I’ve invited Maggie and Doodle back for tea … “

PROMISING ENCOUNTER AT POBBLES

We’re on our way to Pobbles today.  We’re going down the sandy lane from the post office – where Mum bought a newspaper from Marion, who gave me a biscuit.  I like biscuits!  I also like Marion, who has a black dog that we sometimes see with her on the beach or the moors.  He isn’t always friendly, but he usually is.

Mum’s walking along the path.  I’m having more fun than she is - exploring all the sand dunes and sniffing trees and bushes.  I’m finding some brilliant sniffs.  What’s this?

I see that it’s a rabbit, looking at me worriedly and wondering whether to run for it.  Now there’s another rabbit … and another one.  The first rabbit seems to be feeling braver thanks to having company.  I think they want to play a game.  So I say: “Can I join in?”

“Only if you keep your distance,” they tell me, all speaking at once.  “You’re too big, really, to play with us.”

“Yes, I am big,” I agree, “but I’m gentle as well.  You’ve nothing to fear from me.  We could play ‘catch’.”

“How do you play that?” they chorus.

“You run, as fast as you can, and I try to catch you.”

They eye each other, then tell me: “That sounds a great game.  So, if – as you’re so much bigger than we are – you give us a head start, we’ll play.”

This seems a fair arrangement.  I let them get started and then bound after them.  I can see three white bobtails bobbing along in front of me and suddenly I can only see … a rabbit hole.

I can hear them inside, laughing, though.

Grumpily, I look up at Mum who smiles and says: “Never mind, Sam.  That’s all you can expect of rabbits.  Whereas … “

I look over to where she’s looking … and see, racing up from the beach towards me – a Beardie!

BURIED TREASURE

I brought the bone home and now I’m digging a hole.  Nobody can see me.  I’m at the bottom of the garden, behind the tall trees.  So my bone will be safe here, once I’ve buried it.

Bones are among my favorite things!  They’re best when they’ve been in a hole and I find them again.  Then they have extra flavor.

I’ve found bones down here that I didn’t bury myself.  When Mum sees me with them she goes demented, telling me they’re horrid and smelly and probably belonged to dogs boarding here back when the cages over there were kennels and a cattery. 

Those bones are not horrid – and what’s wrong with them being smelly?  There’s nothing wrong with it that I can see!

Who’s coming through the front gate?  Someone is.  I just heard it click.  I must go and guard Mum.  My precious bone will have to wait.

Off I race – up the garden, round the house and on to the front drive, barking fit to bust.  Then I see who the intruder is: it’s the man who brings Mum letters and things.  She calls him Bryn-the-Post.

“It’s okay, Sam – we’re quite safe!” she tells me as I skid to a halt by her and Bryn.  Then she frowns and says: “Just look at the state you’re in!  Where on earth have you been digging?”

Where’s the sense in telling her?  She’ll only make my bone disappear.  Now that Mum doesn’t need me here, I think it’s time for me to do the disappearing …

Home Sweet Home!

TEA AT BLACK POOL

Mum’s missing.  I can’t see her anywhere.  When I went into the sea she was on the beach, watching me.  Now she’s nowhere to be seen.

Oh dear!  Have I lost her?  The gulls start squawking.  I’m not sure what they’re saying.  Can they see her, from up there?

I must find Mum.  Wherever is she?  If only I had wings!  Then I could be high up, like the gulls, seeing everything.  As it is, I am running as fast as I can.  Is she over by that black pool?  No.  I’m now at the top of the pebble mountain and can see a big brown dog by the pool, thinking about having a swim.  His human throws a ball for him, away from the water, and the dog goes after it.

I run to the little bridge.  Still no sign of Mum.  There are other humans nearby, but mine isn’t among them.

She wouldn’t go home without me … would she?  I don’t think she would yet don’t know that she wouldn’t.    

This is worrying.  Why did I take my eyes off my Mum?  I should have kept at least one eye on her.  Then she wouldn’t be lost.  Then I wouldn’t be feeling so worried.

Maybe she’s over by the cliffs.  If she’s sitting over there I might not see her from here.  My paws take off again and I’m half way across the pebbles when I hear: “Sam, Sam!”

I stop as soon as I can and turn to see where her voice is coming from.  To my surprise I find that she’s standing by a gate at the top of a ridge I hadn’t even noticed.

There’s something else I hadn’t noticed: beyond the ridge, I see as I approach it, is a house.  This is the first time I’ve seen a house on a beach.  Mum smiles as she asks: “Did you think you’d lost me?  You’ll know now how I feel each time I think you’re lost after you try to fly with the gulls and disappear into the distance.  Come and meet Jessie and Wally.”

We go through the gate and into a garden before entering the house through the kitchen door.  “So this is Sam!” says a friendly voice.  I look up and like the lady I see.  Placing my paw on one of her feet, I pant to tell her that a drink would be welcome.  “Oh, what a darling you are!” Jessie says, her eyes admiring me.  “Let’s get you some water, shall we?”

After I’ve drunk thirstily Jessie puts the kettle on for tea.  I’ve seen Mum do that and don’t really understand why humans prefer tea to water.  I’ve tried it and wasn’t bothered after my first taste.

“And who have we here?” asks a deep voice.  It belongs to a man who bends down to look at me closely.  Then he puts his nose so that it is touching my nose.  I draw back in my surprise.

“Oh, Wally!” says Jessie.  “Rubbing noses, Eskimo-like, with the grandchildren is one thing – but don’t expect Sam to react as they do.  Let’s all get to the table and have tea, shall we?”

Does that ‘all’ include me?  “You’ll be having your tea at home, later,” Mum says.  “But if you lie there and behave while we eat, I believe Jessie has a treat in mind for you.”

“Poor Sam needn’t wait until we’ve eaten,” Jessie tells her.  “Not after all his exertions on the beach and in the sea.  Here’s a juicy bone to tide him over till his supper-time!”

As everybody tucks in, including me, I can see I was right to like Jessie …

BLACK POOL

I don’t know where we’re going.  Instead of heading towards the beach, we’re walking down a path along the side of our house.  I’ve never even seen this path before. 

But it has plenty of bushes and trees, so I’m happy!  All these new scents to sniff are enough to make any chap glad.  So it doesn’t really matter where we’re going as there’s such pleasure right here.

Mum has gone on ahead.  I’ve noticed she doesn’t ever stop to sniff things.  Doesn’t she know how pleasurable sniffing is?

Now she’s clapping her hands.  Why’s that?  I run to catch her up and find out why.

Oh gosh!  There are huge creatures in front of us.  They are even bigger than the ponies and they’re black and white like me.  One of them is looking at me funnily.

I back off and bark at him.  Mum claps her hands again and says to me: “Don’t worry.  These heifers won’t hurt us.  They’re just curious, as they’ve probably never seen a Beardie before.  Let’s put you on the lead while we cross their field.”

I feel uneasy.  There are so many heifers and their curiosity is bothering me.  Do I look like food to them?  They have big mouths and very long legs.

But Mum is moving, so I need to move too.  Forward we go, together, and the heifers let us.  I bark to show them I’m not scared.  “We’ll soon be there,” says Mum. 

“Where’s ‘there’?” I ask. 

“The far corner of the field,” she answers.  “See that stile?  Once we’re on its other side we’ll be alright.”

It’s a relief to leave the heifers behind.  Off comes my lead again and off I run to explore more scents.

There are lots and lots of trees.  Oh, and here’s a little stream!  I plop my two front paws in while I drink from it.  Then I flop into the middle with a satisfactory splash.  This isn’t the sea, but it’s quenching my thirst and my fur’s spreading out around me in the water.

Then Mum calls.  Shall I run to her, or linger a little longer?  “Sam!” she calls again.  “Come and see where the stream leads us!”

That does it.  I want to know where we’re going and what else is in store.  So I answer her call.

“These woods,” Mum tells me, “will be abundant with garlic and bluebells soon.  They’ll be even prettier then than they are today.”

I look up at her, liking the sound of her words though their meaning isn’t altogether clear.  What’s that I can hear?

“Yes,” Mum says, when she sees me pricking up my ears, “it is what you think it is!”

I race on ahead, reaching a little wooden bridge.  On the far side of it is a kind of mountain.  I climb up, over loads of smooth white stones.  By the time I reach the top I can see that my ears had not deceived me.

There’s no sand, like on our usual beach – just stones, all the way down to the sea.  There’s something else as well.  I look where Mum is looking and can see a gigantic black pool.

“It looks black because it’s very, very deep,” Mum tells me.  “Do I need to put on your lead or will you promise not to try swimming in it?”

I don’t know why she thinks I’d want to swim in still black water when the restless sea is beckoning me.  So I put my head on one side and give a little bark to reassure her.

Just then two gulls fly over to greet me and  I’m quickly following them to the sea.

INITIATION

I’ve just found a friend.  Or he has found me.  He’s waiting by our front gate as Mum and I set off for the beach.

He’s a friendly fellow with a waggy tail.  Both our tails are wagging.  Bet Mum wishes she had a long tail to wag!

She was cross with me yesterday after I shook that black mud over her and Violet.  But how was I to know that shaking myself was as bad as jumping up?  Nobody said it was till after I’d done it.  Humans sometimes have strange ways of doing things.

Still, Mum’s happy again now – and today’s a new day.

I can see ponies ahead.  They’re so big that I always stay well away.  My friend isn’t doing that, though.  He’s running right up to them.  Oh heck!

I’d better go and show that I’m not afraid of them either.  Except that I am a bit scared.  Looking up at Mum, I see that she knows how I feel.  She smiles, saying: “Be true to yourself.  Don’t just shadow Hector.  Only do it if it feels okay.”

I think I get her gist.  Suddenly I feel braver.  Those ponies are grazing.  They’re showing little interest in my friend.  So why would they be interested in me?

I edge closer … then closer still.  One of them lifts his head and snorts and I draw back a bit.  But next minute he’s eating grass again.  I wonder what grass tastes like.  I’ll try it sometime.

I suppose they are not actually all that big.  And they aren’t fierce.  They’re simply doing their usual thing and minding their own business.  I needn’t have been frightened.

Hector’s off again.  How did Mum know my new friend’s name?  Now he’s barking at seagulls.  I join in.  This is such fun!  The gulls start diving at us and we both jump up, trying to take wing.

Why weren’t we given wings, I wonder?  It’s the biggest of my wonderings.  But nobody seems to be answering - so I’ll just get on with the next thing.

We’ve followed the gulls to the castle and now we’re almost flying down the steep sandy path to the beach.  I expect Mum’s somewhere behind me, but I can’t stop to turn and see.

Hector is in the river ahead of me – but only just.  We’re both swimming across and there are still gulls above us.  They probably wish that they could swim like this and that they had four legs to run on.

“Can’t you run any faster than that?” calls Hector as we set off on the Oxwich side of the beach.  “Race you to the rock!”

There’s an enormous rock jutting up from the sand part way across.  I’m bigger than Hector and have longer fur.  So I can run fastest, I’m almost sure.

I send this message (without the ‘almost’) to my paws.  They begin bouncing over the sand almost as if each one has wings.  This is fantastic!  It’s the nearest thing to flying.  We’re leaving Hector behind.

I can’t see him now that he’s behind me, but I can see … the rock!  Reaching it breathlessly, I turn to greet Hector – as if being the winner is no big deal.

Pretending not to be bothered, he plunges into a large rock pool.  I plunge in too.  It’s where we are, with lots of little fish, when Mum finds us.

“Well,” she says, “I’m glad you two are friends!  Whatever are you planning to do next?”

We leave the rock pool and shake ourselves.  I notice that Mum stands well back as we do this.  Does she think I’ve forgotten the mud incident? 

Hector is off to the sea.  There are great waves today.  When the waves are this big I stay away.

“Come on!” calls Hector as he starts barking at the surfers.  “We can do what they’re doing.”

“Can we?” I ask uncertainly.

But Hector is already doing it – throwing himself into the sea and then letting it bring him back towards me.

“Just ride the waves!” he shouts over their roar.

Ride them?  How?  I don’t know how, but maybe I don’t need to know.  Maybe I just need to do as Hector’s doing.  He’s obviously having fun doing it.

So in I go.  This is scary, but copying Hector also begins to be … thrilling.  The sea is lifting me.  It’s a bit like having wings.  Yes, I’m … flying!  I never want this to stop.

Finally our fun is over and we’re going home.  I’m so tired that my paws are heavy instead of light.  I’m almost wishing to be still small enough for Mum to carry me.

But that wouldn’t look good in front of Hector.  By our garden gate, before running off, he says: “’Bye then!”

Later, when I’ve eaten and slept, Mum tells me: “That, Sam, seems to have been your initiation into getting the best from our environment.  I doubt you’ll ever forget Hector’s lessons.”

Is that her way of saying this has been a great day?

MORE REAL DOG STORIES

Today we are not going to the beach.  We're going to see Violet - one of Mum's friends.  She's elderly, Mum tells me, so I mustn't jump up.  I must BEHAVE.

Okay! I know about behaving.  I find out about it by misbehaving.  But I won't be misbehaving today because I'm learning to like praise.  When Mum praises me she smiles and there's a lovely light in her eyes.  I hope she can see I'm on my best behavior!

We're driving to Violet's place.  I like sitting next to Mum in the car, with my paw on her knee.  But today I'm in the back seat so that Violet can sit in the front. Hm!

"Ah, there you are!"  The lady is standing in her front doorway.  "As you can see, I'm ready and waiting."

I like the look of Violet.  She has nice eyes and she's wearing a white dress.  With her hair as well, I'm seeing a lot of whiteness.

Mum helps her into the car, although Violet says she doesn't need help.  Then we're off again.

"I thought we'd go to the park," says Mum.  "We'll see the sea from there, but it'll be too far from us for Sam to go and plunge in.  The last thing I want is for him to get wet and shake himself over your beautiful dress."

"You wouldn't do that, would you, Sam?" Violet asks me, after turning her head in my direction.  "I can't imagine you doing such a thing."

I like the way she speaks to me.  She seems a very sweet lady.

We reach the park and Mum puts me on the lead.  I wish she would just trust me.  Well, when I find smells she and her friend will need to wait while I sniff them.  They'd be better off setting me free.

"Other dogs are not on leads," Violet tells Mum after a while. "So why is Sam tied to us like this?  It isn't fair on him."

She's right, of course.  It isn't fair at all.  I watch Mum's face for favorable signs.  "It's your pristine dress that worries me," she says.  "If Sam forgets himself and jumps up, there could be grass stains ... or ... or ... "

"It hasn't rained for days," Violet states, "and anyway, what's a grass stain or two between friends?  Let poor Sam enjoy himself."

I'm liking Violet more and more as Mum gives in, whispering to me as she removes my lead: "Remember to behave.  No jumping up, or I'll be the crossest I've ever been."

That does it.  I'm going to be so good that Mum will never get cross with me again.  I start off by walking to heel, just as I've been trained.  I look up at Mum and she smiles at me.  I can see she thinks I'm being a good boy.

Here's a pretty little girl giving me a admiring glance.  She has long blonde fur and walks with rather a twirl.  I follow her.

We do a bit of appreciative sniffing and then her human calls her and off she goes, tail in the air.  I look around me - and see an enormous tree.  I should find some good smells over there.  So off I trot.

Well, this is better than I expected!  As well as smells there's lots of black gungy stuff all round the tree trunk. In I plunge.

This is such fun.  If I turn on my back, kicking my legs in the air, there's a smell everywhere.  And I can't see my fur as it's oozing with mud.

"Sam, Sam ... where are you, Sam?"

Mum can see where I am, can't she?  No, perhaps she can't.  I'd better stand up and show her that I'm right here by this tree.

"There he is.  Oh, just look at him!"  says Violet.

"I'm looking," Mum tells her as I bound over to them, "and I'm not liking what I see."

Is she saying she doesn't like me?  She can't be!  Mum loves me.  I know she does.  And I love her - hugely.  To express my love and show that I know not to jump up and how to behave I go over to them both and give myself a vigorous shake.

REAL DOG STORIES

These are real dog stories.  I know, because they're mine ... and I'm a Beardie.

When Mum and I cross the road from our front gate we're instantly on the moors leading to Three Cliffs Bay.  That's so GREAT!  It means that I can run free straightaway.  Once I'm running, the wind coming from the sea lifts my fur and almost lifts me.

Maybe, when there's a stronger wind it will lift me right up so that I can fly with the gulls. They fly so effortlessly, as high as they like, yet I can't seem even to get started . Why?

Sometimes I feel the gulls are laughing at me.  They swoop down and, just as I'm about to catch one and have a chat about how to grow wings, they lift off again, beyond my reach. But I won't be beaten! I'll keep trying to fly till I succeed ...   

P.S. In my picture I'm taking a breather as the seagulls I've chased to the beach soar skywards without me!                              

STORIES DOG

I like telling stories dog. Or should that be dog stories? I'm new to this, so I'm not sure.  Today is an odd day.  Mum and I are visiting her friend, Yvonne, who is unhappy because she has lost her cat.

But the cat is not lost!  I know, because I am watching him.  Peter is doing his usual thing.  When he comes in, he goes to the sofa and jumps up on to the arm at this end.  Then he stretches before walking slowly across the top of the sofa to the end farthest from the window and settling himself.

He always does this.  It's a habit of his.  And he just passed right by me before jumping up.  But nobody noticed - other than me, that is!

Now Mum and Yvonne are talking and I'm listening in.

"Sam's behaving strangely," says Mum.  "Look at him."

(By the way, there's nothing strange about my behavior.   I'm simply lying here observing things!)

"You're just saying that to take my mind off Peter," Yvonne tells her.

"No, I'm not.  Watch his eyes and general demeanor.  I reckon he can see Peter."

"See him?  Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, you know what they say about dogs ... "

"No.  What?"

"That their vision is very different from ours - that they can often see spirits and ... and such like.  And Sam's eyes have been following the exact route Peter takes every night when he comes in from outside.  Look at him now.  He's gazing at the spot where Peter always curls up to sleep.  Remember how they stared at each other sometimes, as if trying not to blink? That's what they're doing right this minute - I'm sure of it."

Now they're both looking at me.  I feel a bit sheepish.  Why on earth can't they see what I'm seeing?

"Really?" asks Yvonne.  "You aren't just saying that to make me miss Peter less?"

"You should know me better than that - and learn from Sam.  When I first had him, I thought I'd be the teacher and he the pupil.  But mostly it's the other way round and he's the one doing the teaching.  So believe him and me that you haven't lost Peter.  We both just lack Sam's vision."

Well, how about that?  It doesn't seem to matter that I can't tell the difference between dog stories and stories dog!

NAUGHTY ME!

Mum said I was naughty for leaving the car when she'd left me in there. She sounded frantic when calling me - then mad when I ran back to her.  Why was she mad?

When I asked her, she answered that at first she thought I'd been dog-napped. She believed I must have been, because it was impossible for me to leave a car with both doors closed and only a tiny window half-open. That shows what she knows (or doesn't know)!

Then she fretted that I could have broken all my legs, dropping so far from the window to our front drive. Once I'd shown her that nothing was broken she was really cross for a while.  I didn't understand why.  Did Mum want me to have broken bones?  

When she was calm again, she said she had been scared that I was either lost or injured - then astonished that I had achieved such a feat.  Finally, she got cross to stop me doing any more of what she called 'disappearing tricks'.  She ended up telling me she loved me.

Well, I love her too ... but I obviously have a lot to learn about humans!

THAT'S ME - IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT!

Today we've been out for a drive.  Now we're home and instead of letting me into the house with her Mum says I must stay for a while in the car outside.  Why?  So that I can get used to guarding it in future, when I'm bigger and she's shopping and such like!

But being in here alone when we aren't going anywhere isn't much fun.  I'd far rather be out in the garden, exploring or finding new smells.  The question is, how to go about getting out ...

Mum's car is a blue Beetle.  The seats are blue too.  I've found that I can squeeze through the space between the seats and get from the back to the front easily.  Now I'm on the seat where Mum usually sits - behind the big wheel she holds when we're moving along.

Standing on my back legs, with my front paws on this wheel, I can just reach the little triangular window she has left open.  This is good progress!  But I need to do better to achieve my objective.

So I jump onto the wheel, falling to the floor at my first attempt.  Try again.  Back onto the seat, then front paws on the wheel ... and a big jump, bringing my back legs up until they are balancing on the lower rim and my tum is supported by the round bit in the middle.  This makes a funny sound, but Mum doesn't come running.

Good!  I can do this on my own, without her help.  I push the little window as wide as it will go.  Then I throw myself through it.

Wow ... it's a long way to the ground!  But I'm in mid-air now.  Next thing I know, my paws are bouncing down the drive towards the back garden, where the best smells are to be found.

Just when I'm enjoying my adventure, down among all the trees and bushes farthest from the house, I hear a sound that stops me in my tracks.  "Sam, Sam ... where are you, Sam?"

Mum sounds frantic.  Why's that?  Perhaps I'd better go and tell her where I am.

IN THE BEGINNING

They named me Tangledown Mungojerrie, but my new Mum just calls me Sam.  Every time she smiles I feel warm inside.  When I cried for my other Mum last night, she lay on my mat beside me and stroked me gently till I fell asleep.

I think I’ll like living with her!

Today we’re going to the beach.  I don’t know what that is, but soon will because we’re on our way there now.  Mum’s carrying me, as I haven’t had all my jabs yet.  What jabs are is anyone’s guess.  Being carried isn’t a bad thing.  I can see more from up here than down on the ground.

I’ve just seen a herd of wild ponies.  Mum said that that’s what they are.  They’re very big – bigger than I’ll ever be, Mum tells me.  She also says I must treat them with respect.  I'm not sure yet what respect is.  We don’t seem to speak the same language, although I think I get her general drift.  

There’s quite a wind blowing and there are some birds above us.  They’re seagulls, apparently.  I’d like to fly like them.  Maybe I’ll grow wings somewhen.

We’re going downhill now and I’m told the tide is on its way out.  Mum seems pleased as it means that when we reach the cove she can put me down.  What a cove is I’ve yet to discover.

I can hear something.  Pricking up my ears, I wonder what this ‘something’ is.  

It’s getting louder.  I snuggle down.  There must be a very big something making such a scary sound.

“It’s only the sea,” Mum says reassuringly.  “I expect you’ll want to swim in it when you’re bigger.”

Swim?  Risking a glance over to where she’s looking I can see more water than I could ever imagine.  It’s swirling and roaring … and coming to get me!  Whatever swimming is, I doubt I’ll want to do it.

Mum is smiling at me now.  “Don’t tell me you’re a coward!  You won’t be, once you get used to the sea.  There’ll probably be no keeping you out of it.  Well, here we are at the cove I told you about.  The sand’s damp because until just now it was under water.  We’re the first to step on to it so no germs will be lurking.  You’ll love the feel of sand under your paws.”

I’m not so sure.  It feels funny to me – sort of squishy.  And, now that Mum has put me down, the sea seems endless; it doesn’t stay still, either, even for a minute.  

I turn till it’s behind me.  That’s better.  I can’t see it, so it isn’t there.  Instead of the sea, I now have some rocks in front of me – and what’s this?  I dip a tentative paw in, discovering more water.

“Don’t drink it!” warns Mum, as if she knows what I’m thinking.  “It’s salty, same as the sea, and will only make you thirsty.”

She didn’t warn me not to fall in – and that’s what I did, feeling a bit silly until I find that I’m enjoying myself.  It’s such fun splashing about that I don’t want to come out.  But once I’m on the sand again, there’s extra fun waiting!

I find that lying on my back and kicking my legs in the air is simply great.  The more I wriggle around, the better I feel.  And Mum’s expression says she wishes she could do as I’m doing.  I expect she wishes she had four legs and fur too.

“Just look at you!” she says, when I finally stand up and shake myself.  “Your fur was soft and silky when we reached the beach.  Now it’s so matted with sand that I can hardly believe it’s really you underneath.

Of course it’s me!  Who else would it be?  I shake some more – and suddenly see great big creatures coming towards me.  Mum sees them too and picks me up quickly, saying: “The ponies are early today.  They don’t usually drink from the river till later.”

Where did the river suddenly spring from, winding across the beach to the sea?  I never noticed it on our way here.

“It’s deep in places,” Mum cautions me.  “So if you fall in, it won’t be like falling into the rock pool and you’ll need to swim.  There are often strong currents, too, and people as well as animals have drowned before now.  Be careful when down here, whatever you do.  I’d be heartbroken to lose you.”

As she holds me tight the look in her eyes makes me feel warm and sort of special.  I try to tell her that I have no intention of ever breaking her heart.  Then, as she carries me home, I fall asleep in her arms.