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.