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.”
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