from her bag. She showed it to me and looked excited. How could you get excited over a bit of rope? On closer inspection, it turned out to be several bits of rope intricately knotted together. Still I couldnât imagine why she was showing them to me, but I feigned polite interest anyway, just to please her, by sniffing it appreciatively.
That was when Dad sneaked up on me from behind and picked me up. I was momentarily too surprised to struggle. At once, Mum pulled the string contraption over my head and around my front legs, effectively strapping me into it. Then she attached a lead to one of the strings, opened the glass doors to the garden and motioned me outside, a triumphant smile on her face. Thatâs how, before I knew what was happening, I found myself being paraded around our front garden on a lead, for all the world to see, like a common dog!
I was stunned for a minute or two. Stunned, and totally humiliated. How dare she? The front garden had suddenly lost all its appeal. All I could think of was how to lose those strings. I threw myself on the grass and wriggled and wriggled until I sensed some freedom in one of my forelegs, then my neck, then the other foreleg â and I was free! Without missing a beat, I leapt over the small hedge separating our pocket-sized front garden from the next one and ran off. Mum was powerless to stop me, and she knew it. Her helpless yells were getting fainter as I cleared several more hedges and turned a corner, to find myself in a large car park. They would not find me there very easily: it was full of cars for me to hide under. I chose one that still felt a bit warm from having been recently driven and settled down underneath it.
It wasnât long before my entire family appeared in the car park and started looking for me on their hands and knees. Up and down the rows of cars they crawled, calling for me, waving treats and generally looking pretty conspicuous. Before long, they were joined in their search by other people, surprised to see two adults and three children crawling around a car park. It was an embarrassing spectacle, and I tried to look as though I didnât know them.
Of course they spotted me after a while. But really, all I had to do was move to another row and another car. It was too easy; we could go on doing this all day. Dinner time was still hours away. Until then, I would be quite happy in the car park.
My family must have reasoned along similar lines, because they gave up after a while and sat down on a low wall to discuss the situation. I could tell they were not happy. Mum was getting the blame for my escape, which wasnât entirely fair, because she had only been trying to help me, after all. I made a mental note to be cool towards the other four tonight, after I returned home. They sat there, arguing, for a long time, until Robin announced that he was hungry and wanted to go back in his box to have lunch. One by one, they reluctantly left the car park, until I was on my own with the cars and with the other shoppers, who soon lost interest in me, and I in them.
Finally, I was free to explore my surroundings. I did a quick circuit of the car park, walking on top of the low wall my family had sat on. There wasnât very much to see â just cars and a few small trees. I checked out the far side of the car park, where there were more little houses with tiny gardens, then I retraced my steps to our house via the neighbouring front gardens. They were all identical, small and very boring. Not even a birdâs nest in any of them; not one mouse. Had I landed here a few years ago, I would have been desperate. Nowadays, I knew this could not possibly be our house for long: my armchair wasnât there, for one thing. So there was hope that we would move away before long, to a better house with a crystal-clear pool and a tin-roofed garden shed in a sheltered spot. For now, I had seen enough.
I leapt back into our front garden and
That was when Dad sneaked up on me from behind and picked me up. I was momentarily too surprised to struggle. At once, Mum pulled the string contraption over my head and around my front legs, effectively strapping me into it. Then she attached a lead to one of the strings, opened the glass doors to the garden and motioned me outside, a triumphant smile on her face. Thatâs how, before I knew what was happening, I found myself being paraded around our front garden on a lead, for all the world to see, like a common dog!
I was stunned for a minute or two. Stunned, and totally humiliated. How dare she? The front garden had suddenly lost all its appeal. All I could think of was how to lose those strings. I threw myself on the grass and wriggled and wriggled until I sensed some freedom in one of my forelegs, then my neck, then the other foreleg â and I was free! Without missing a beat, I leapt over the small hedge separating our pocket-sized front garden from the next one and ran off. Mum was powerless to stop me, and she knew it. Her helpless yells were getting fainter as I cleared several more hedges and turned a corner, to find myself in a large car park. They would not find me there very easily: it was full of cars for me to hide under. I chose one that still felt a bit warm from having been recently driven and settled down underneath it.
It wasnât long before my entire family appeared in the car park and started looking for me on their hands and knees. Up and down the rows of cars they crawled, calling for me, waving treats and generally looking pretty conspicuous. Before long, they were joined in their search by other people, surprised to see two adults and three children crawling around a car park. It was an embarrassing spectacle, and I tried to look as though I didnât know them.
Of course they spotted me after a while. But really, all I had to do was move to another row and another car. It was too easy; we could go on doing this all day. Dinner time was still hours away. Until then, I would be quite happy in the car park.
My family must have reasoned along similar lines, because they gave up after a while and sat down on a low wall to discuss the situation. I could tell they were not happy. Mum was getting the blame for my escape, which wasnât entirely fair, because she had only been trying to help me, after all. I made a mental note to be cool towards the other four tonight, after I returned home. They sat there, arguing, for a long time, until Robin announced that he was hungry and wanted to go back in his box to have lunch. One by one, they reluctantly left the car park, until I was on my own with the cars and with the other shoppers, who soon lost interest in me, and I in them.
Finally, I was free to explore my surroundings. I did a quick circuit of the car park, walking on top of the low wall my family had sat on. There wasnât very much to see â just cars and a few small trees. I checked out the far side of the car park, where there were more little houses with tiny gardens, then I retraced my steps to our house via the neighbouring front gardens. They were all identical, small and very boring. Not even a birdâs nest in any of them; not one mouse. Had I landed here a few years ago, I would have been desperate. Nowadays, I knew this could not possibly be our house for long: my armchair wasnât there, for one thing. So there was hope that we would move away before long, to a better house with a crystal-clear pool and a tin-roofed garden shed in a sheltered spot. For now, I had seen enough.
I leapt back into our front garden and
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