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!
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