LUNCH AMONG THIEVES

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.”

I must say that I like her attitude – and maybe cats aren’t so bad!

MIXED BLESSINGS

Mum is photographing me with Megan and her family.  There are lots of them, as you can see.  Actually, there are more than these.  Bracken, the biggest - and their pack-leader - has just led two of his followers from the picture.

I'm hoping he won't come back for a bit.  I don't know what to make of him.  He growls a lot and sometimes bares his teeth.  I don't think he likes me.

Mum says I needn't worry as his bark's worse than his bite, but I'm not so sure.  To be on the safe side, I try always to steer well clear of him.

Trouble is, he's a greyhound and can probably run even faster than I can.  We haven't put that to the test yet.  It's a pity that Mum is friends with Megan when there are plenty of other people to be friends with.

Now that our picture has been taken, Megan is saying something to Mum:

"Would you and Sam like to come to us, tomorrow, for lunch?"

"That would be lovely," says Mum, without consulting me.  "What time would you like us to arrive?"

"Around one o'clock," Megan tells her.  "You'll both be able to meet the rest of my family."  Then she turns to me, asking:  "You like cats, don't you Sam?  I had ten at the last count, so it's best if you like them."

Ten cats plus Bracken ... oh heck!

HELPING THE PONIES

The ponies are thirsty.  They just told me over the hedge that the hot weather has dried up their water supply.  Mum and I need to help them.  I’d better tell her!

She’s chatting on the telephone so I’ll wait for her to stop.  Then I’ll get her attention better than if I talk while she’s talking.  I’ve found this out through trying different tactics and seeing which ones work best.

But she’s taking too long!  If she talks for much longer the ponies will be gone.  They’ll take off, looking for a drink somewhere else – and maybe they won’t find one.  I think Mum needs prompting about the problem.

“Come with me!” I urge her, tugging at her skirt.  “Come quickly!”

“Sam’s behaving oddly,” she says into the phone.  “He’s acting as if there’s a crisis.  I doubt there is, but you never know.  I’d better go and see what’s what.”

She follows me as I run into the front garden.  The ponies haven’t left.  They are still on the other side of the hedge, pawing the dry ground and whinnying.  There seem to be lots of them.

“They need a drink,” I tell Mum, in case she can’t tell for herself.

“I don’t think I’ve enough carrots to go round,” she says, counting heads.

“Well, carrots would be welcome, I expect – but water would be better!” I tell her.

Then I get a good idea.  I’ve seen how she often waters the garden, so I run over to the thing like a big worm and bark at it.

“The hosepipe!” Mum says.  “That’s so clever, Sam!  We can poke it through the hedge and the ponies can drink to their hearts’ content.”

I love it when Mum praises my cleverness – and now my pony friends are happily slurping the water that’s reaching them.

FRIENDSHIP

I’m happy to have Doodle for my friend.  As Maggie and Mum are now friends too I can see plenty of walks ahead.

Today, though, we’re visiting a different friend of Mum’s.  This one has lost her husband.  Her name is Barbara and she’s crying when we arrive at her house.  “I miss him so much!” she tells us.

I love Barbara because she always talks to me as well as to Mum.  She has a cat, but I don’t mind that.  I do mind that she’s so sad.  Once she and Mum are sitting down, I sit beside Barbara and put my paw on her knee.

“Oh, bless you, Sam!” she says, stroking my head.  “You always know how to comfort me.”  Then she tells Mum: “I can’t bear to look at Archie’s empty chair.  I keep expecting to see him there.”

I look where she won’t look … and there’s Archie, sitting in his chair, same as ever.  So he is not lost!  I go over to him, hoping Barbara will see that she’s mistaken.  I lick the hand that he holds out to me.

Mum says: “Look at Sam.  What do you think he’s doing?”

I watch as Barbara slowly turns towards Archie and me.  After a long time she answers:  “He can see something we can’t see.”

“Something – or someone,” says Mum.  “I remember this happening with a cat once.  Sam saw Peter after he’d passed on.”

Barbara’s face changes; her eyes have a new kind of light in them.  “Can you see Archie?” she asks me.

I bark: “Of course I can!”

“That’s unbelievable,” says Barbara, “and yet I can’t disbelieve you, Sam.  Thank you for showing me that Archie has only gone beyond my vision – and that in essence he’s still here with me.  I think it’s time to put the kettle on for a soothing cup of tea!”

PRETTY GIRL

She looks just like me, except she’s smaller – and prettier!  She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.  Her hair’s tied back with a bow, so her eyes are showing.  They are smiling at me and she seems pleased to see me, same as I am to see her.

Her nose is close to mine now and her fur is flying about as we bounce around getting to know one another.  This is wonderful fun! 

“It looks like love, doesn’t it?” says Mum to my new friend's human.  “It’s just occurred to me that your little girl is the first Beardie Sam has seen since leaving his brother and sisters.  So no wonder he’s showing such interest!  It’s as if their paws are on springs.”

“Beardies have built-in bounce, haven’t they?  I’m Maggie, by the way – and that’s Doodle.”

Our Mums are happy, chatting, and so are we.  Doodle runs off down the path to Pobbles and I run after her.  After a bit we both stop for a sniff and take time too to sniff each other.  “Have you been here before?” I ask.

“Of course!” she answers.  “But I’ve never seen you here.  Are you just a visitor?”

“No!” I tell her indignantly.  “We live quite near.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Mum and me.”

She turns away, saying: “Race you into the sea!”

That’s my kind of challenge and I’m off before Doodle, who isn’t expecting me to move so soon.  I can see a gull just ahead on a higher level and he’s challenging me too, telling me that I’ll never run as fast as he can fly.

But I shall, because I’ve been practising … and because some day I’ll grow wings.  Faster and faster I run, down the path and across the beach.  Now I’m in the sea, with Doodle splashing in behind me and saying: “You started before I was ready!”

“Did I?”

“You know you did.  All the same, it was a good win.  Will we be racing again after this, do you think?”

I can tell from her question that she wants us to be friends, which makes me feel warm and sort of fuzzy.  I answer with hope in my heart: “Yes, we’d better be!”

Just then I hear Mum calling:  “Sam – time to go home.  I’ve invited Maggie and Doodle back for tea … “

PROMISING ENCOUNTER AT POBBLES

We’re on our way to Pobbles today.  We’re going down the sandy lane from the post office – where Mum bought a newspaper from Marion, who gave me a biscuit.  I like biscuits!  I also like Marion, who has a black dog that we sometimes see with her on the beach or the moors.  He isn’t always friendly, but he usually is.

Mum’s walking along the path.  I’m having more fun than she is - exploring all the sand dunes and sniffing trees and bushes.  I’m finding some brilliant sniffs.  What’s this?

I see that it’s a rabbit, looking at me worriedly and wondering whether to run for it.  Now there’s another rabbit … and another one.  The first rabbit seems to be feeling braver thanks to having company.  I think they want to play a game.  So I say: “Can I join in?”

“Only if you keep your distance,” they tell me, all speaking at once.  “You’re too big, really, to play with us.”

“Yes, I am big,” I agree, “but I’m gentle as well.  You’ve nothing to fear from me.  We could play ‘catch’.”

“How do you play that?” they chorus.

“You run, as fast as you can, and I try to catch you.”

They eye each other, then tell me: “That sounds a great game.  So, if – as you’re so much bigger than we are – you give us a head start, we’ll play.”

This seems a fair arrangement.  I let them get started and then bound after them.  I can see three white bobtails bobbing along in front of me and suddenly I can only see … a rabbit hole.

I can hear them inside, laughing, though.

Grumpily, I look up at Mum who smiles and says: “Never mind, Sam.  That’s all you can expect of rabbits.  Whereas … “

I look over to where she’s looking … and see, racing up from the beach towards me – a Beardie!

BURIED TREASURE

I brought the bone home and now I’m digging a hole.  Nobody can see me.  I’m at the bottom of the garden, behind the tall trees.  So my bone will be safe here, once I’ve buried it.

Bones are among my favorite things!  They’re best when they’ve been in a hole and I find them again.  Then they have extra flavor.

I’ve found bones down here that I didn’t bury myself.  When Mum sees me with them she goes demented, telling me they’re horrid and smelly and probably belonged to dogs boarding here back when the cages over there were kennels and a cattery. 

Those bones are not horrid – and what’s wrong with them being smelly?  There’s nothing wrong with it that I can see!

Who’s coming through the front gate?  Someone is.  I just heard it click.  I must go and guard Mum.  My precious bone will have to wait.

Off I race – up the garden, round the house and on to the front drive, barking fit to bust.  Then I see who the intruder is: it’s the man who brings Mum letters and things.  She calls him Bryn-the-Post.

“It’s okay, Sam – we’re quite safe!” she tells me as I skid to a halt by her and Bryn.  Then she frowns and says: “Just look at the state you’re in!  Where on earth have you been digging?”

Where’s the sense in telling her?  She’ll only make my bone disappear.  Now that Mum doesn’t need me here, I think it’s time for me to do the disappearing …

Home Sweet Home!