PROGRESS!

Here I am, waiting patiently for Mum! Guess why she's dragging her feet. Have you guessed? Yes, it's because we're both busy writing my story. We've reached chapter four, she tells me.

But she sometimes grumbles that though I'm the inspiration for SAM'S STORY - and the one putting words in her head - it's she who needs to write them down. If I improve my computer skills do you think she'll stop grumbling and hurry up when it's time for our walk?  

SAM'S STORY

If you're wondering why I'm sitting here looking out to sea, here's the reason: I'm actually sitting thinking about the book Mum and I are writing. Yes, that's right! We're writing a book - and guess who it's about!

Have you guessed yet? In case you haven't, I'll let you in on our secret ...

The book will be about me. Mum says there's plenty to tell that I haven't told you already, so we're just getting on with it. Maybe it will be called SAM'S STORY, but we'll have to wait and see.

Exciting, isn't it? Anyway, I'm excited and hope you will be!

MIRACLE OF BIRTH

A strange thing is happening. Mum and I are walking home from the beach and can hardly see where we’re going as a sea mist has come in.

But we can hear things – an odd sort of snorting and stomping. So we stop and listen. Suddenly I see the ponies. Most of them are standing quite still, in a kind of circle. One, though, seems a bit frantic and now throws herself on to the ground.

What’s wrong with her? I look up at Mum, who shakes her head as if expecting me to disgrace myself. Then we are both drawn into the circle and somehow into the herd. I feel bigger, thinking of myself as part of this family, and I also feel important – too important to bark, or disappoint Mum or the ponies.

Something weird is going on … something that I mustn’t interrupt. Mum and I keep very still … watching and waiting.

The mare stands up and starts stomping again. Her tail lifts and a kind of bubble comes under it.

Before I can take this in, she’s back on the ground again and now the stallion edges forward, putting a front hoof on her big belly as if telling her that he’s helping.

The bubble is getting bigger and bigger until I slowly realize that it isn’t a bubble at all. I can see two little hooves and, as I watch, a whole foal eventually appears and tries again and again to stand up on wobbly legs.

We wait until it is standing on all four legs and then Mum whispers softly: “Well, Sam, now that we’ve witnessed the miracle of birth I reckon it’s time to go home and have breakfast!”

PUPPY LOVE

Maybe you’re expecting me to tell you more about Leo. But I’m not going to! He’s a cute little fellow – and that’s all I plan to say about him today. Except that I was probably cuter at the same age …

I’ve just crossed the river dividing Three Cliffs Bay. I did it because Mum told me not to. Now she’s calling me to return to her side of the river but I’m pretending to be deaf. This should get her attention!

Keeping all my paws on the sand I’m watching her. And she’s watching me while calling my name. Is she wishing little Leo lived with us, instead of in Cornwall with my sister? I think she is – and that she misses him and Joanna now that they are in their own home.

Well, she’s got me, hasn’t she? And I can keep her busy to ease the ‘missing’!

Mum’s coming across. The current’s a bit strong and the water’s quite deep today, after all the rain.  Oops, it’s going over the top of her boots! How do I know this? Because Mum’s complaining, loudly, about it …

Now she’s grabbing my collar, snapping on my lead and saying: “I know what you’re doing, Sam, and there’s no need.”

I look up at her, enquiringly, as she removes a boot to tip the water out of it and then repeats the process. “How do you mean?” I bark.

“You are, and always will be, my number one chap. Do you understand?”

My doggy heart lifts and I lick her hand.

 

LEO'S ADVENT

I have a sister.  Did you know that?  Her name is Joanna and although Mum calls her my 'sister' she has two legs and hair just on her head instead of all over like me.

Well, Joanna is ever so excited because on Monday she will be bringing this little fellow (he's a Tibetan terrier, I'm told) into her home.

She has called him Leo because she thinks he looks like a lion.  I think he looks sleepy - and that he has a lot of growing to do before he's at all lion-like!

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 …

BAD SAM

Mum says I'm a bad boy, but I don't quite understand why. We're on the beach - and there's nobody else around, as you can see.

Well, actually, there is one somebody. He's fishing and just isn't in this picture.

Seeing him there, in the distance, I also saw his picnic. It was with his jacket on the sand - and he was showing no interest in it.

So I naturally ran over to have a little sniff.  But his picnic was in a sort of box, so it was hardly worth sniffing.  I didn't try to steal it as I'm not that kind of a dog. I had to do something, though, to show I'd passed by.  What did I do?

If you haven't already guessed ... I lifted my leg!

P.S. Mum says to tell you that she has started a Facebook page about me - and that she'd love to hear from you with your dog stories.