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 …