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 …
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| Home Sweet Home! |
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