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. 

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 ...