‘Mum’ asked Marcus. “Can I take Oddbins for a walk?”
Oddbins was the dog. A big, bright, fluffy, golden, hairy, bouncy, waggy dog of unknown provenance but with great enthusiasm for life.
Marcus and Oddbins were best friends.
Mum sighed. ‘Oh - but Marcus – he’s just been bathed, and I’m cleaning the kitchen…”
“Please mum, please mum, please mum please!” Marcus begged. And Oddbins said the same, only in dog it came out as ‘Ruff-ruff, Ruff-ruff, Ruff-ruff ruff!’
“All right then.” Mummy sighed. “But only round the field and in the wood – and don’t let him get dirty!”
“I won’t mum!” Marcus and Oddbins promised. And they ran out of the house together.
At the back of the house was a big field, and at the bottom of the field was a little wood.
“To the wood, Oddbins!” Marcus shouted, and they ran down the field, barking. (Both of them. Marcus liked to talk dog with Oddbins).
Half way down the field was a big puddle. It stretched all the way across the field: there was no way round.
“Here, Oddbins!” Marcus shouted. “It must have rained last night! You can’t go in there, you’ll get all wet!”
Oddbins looked at him and whined.
“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you across. Come here!”
Oddbins was a biggish dog, and Marcus was a small boy. But he was quite strong, and with a puff and a grunt he lifted Oddbins up in his arms and waded across the puddle.
It was deeper than it had looked. By the time he’d got to the other side, his jeans were soaked to the knees, and his trainers were so full of water that they squelched when he walked.
“Never mind,” he said to Oddbins as he put him down. “At least you’re still dry!”
Oddbins barked, and they carried on running down the field.
At the wood, before the trees started, were some low bushes. Usually they just pushed through them, but Marcus remembered what his mum had said.
“Here, Oddbins!” he said. “We don’t want you getting twigs and leaves in your fur. I’d better carry you again!”
So once more Marcus picked up his dog and, carrying him in his arms, forced his way through the bushes.
The bushes were wet from the rain, and the wet leaves stuck to Marcus: by they time they were through he was wet up to the waist and had leaves and twigs sticking to him all over.
“Never mind, Oddbins!” Marcus said as he put the dog down. “At least you’re still clean!”
They ran on through the woods. Marcus threw a stick, and Oddbins chased it. They followed the path until they came to a steep bank. On top of the bank was a wall, and over the other side was a railway. Marcus and Oddbins liked to climb the bank, sit on the wall, and watch for trains going by. But today the bank looked very muddy.
“Perhaps we should stay here today,” Marcus told Oddbins.
Oddbins looked at him and whined. That was why he was called Oddbins – because he had so many different whines. This was his ‘Please, I really want to go up the bank and sit on the wall and look for trains!’ whine.
“Oh - all right – I’ll just have to carry you,” said Marcus.
So he picked him up and started up the bank.
But the bank was quite steep, and muddy, and slippery: soon Marcus had to crawl up on his knees and one hand. But with the other one he managed to keep Oddbins out of the mud. Gasping and panting, they finally made it to the top.
Marcus looked at his hand and his jeans and his trainers. They were all wet, and leafy and muddy. But Oddbins was still nice and dry and clean.
They sat on the wall, and watched for trains. They knew they weren’t allowed to go any closer, because that would have been dangerous. So they stayed up on the wall.
After a time, a train came by. This was a very special train: because the trains that ran on that line were all pulled by old steam engines.
It came puffing up the hill, blowing clouds of smoke and steam. Marcus shouted, Oddbins barked, the engine whistled, and the driver waved as they went by. Big clouds of smoke billowed everywhere, making Marcus and Oddbins cough.
When the train had gone, Marcus looked at himself and Oddbins. The smoke had stuck to him where he was wet and muddy, but Oddbins was still nice and dry and clean.
“Good boy!” said Marcus, and Oddbins wagged his tail, and made his “Yes I am a good boy!” whine.
“We’d better go home now,” Marcus told him. So they jumped of the wall, and went down the slope.
Going down was a lot easier than going up. Oddbins sat on Marcus’s lap whilst Marcus slid down on his bottom.
Then they ran back along the path through the woods.
When they got to the bushes, Marcus picked Oddbins up again and carried him through.
They ran up the field. When the got to the big puddle, Marcus picked Oddbins up again and carried him over.
Then they ran back up to the house.
Mummy had just finished cleaning the kitchen when they burst in.
“We’re back Mum!” Marcus shouted. “And look – Oddbins is still clean!”
Marcus’s mother shrieked.
Oddbins was the dog. A big, bright, fluffy, golden, hairy, bouncy, waggy dog of unknown provenance but with great enthusiasm for life.
Marcus and Oddbins were best friends.
Mum sighed. ‘Oh - but Marcus – he’s just been bathed, and I’m cleaning the kitchen…”
“Please mum, please mum, please mum please!” Marcus begged. And Oddbins said the same, only in dog it came out as ‘Ruff-ruff, Ruff-ruff, Ruff-ruff ruff!’
“All right then.” Mummy sighed. “But only round the field and in the wood – and don’t let him get dirty!”
“I won’t mum!” Marcus and Oddbins promised. And they ran out of the house together.
At the back of the house was a big field, and at the bottom of the field was a little wood.
“To the wood, Oddbins!” Marcus shouted, and they ran down the field, barking. (Both of them. Marcus liked to talk dog with Oddbins).
Half way down the field was a big puddle. It stretched all the way across the field: there was no way round.
“Here, Oddbins!” Marcus shouted. “It must have rained last night! You can’t go in there, you’ll get all wet!”
Oddbins looked at him and whined.
“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you across. Come here!”
Oddbins was a biggish dog, and Marcus was a small boy. But he was quite strong, and with a puff and a grunt he lifted Oddbins up in his arms and waded across the puddle.
It was deeper than it had looked. By the time he’d got to the other side, his jeans were soaked to the knees, and his trainers were so full of water that they squelched when he walked.
“Never mind,” he said to Oddbins as he put him down. “At least you’re still dry!”
Oddbins barked, and they carried on running down the field.
At the wood, before the trees started, were some low bushes. Usually they just pushed through them, but Marcus remembered what his mum had said.
“Here, Oddbins!” he said. “We don’t want you getting twigs and leaves in your fur. I’d better carry you again!”
So once more Marcus picked up his dog and, carrying him in his arms, forced his way through the bushes.
The bushes were wet from the rain, and the wet leaves stuck to Marcus: by they time they were through he was wet up to the waist and had leaves and twigs sticking to him all over.
“Never mind, Oddbins!” Marcus said as he put the dog down. “At least you’re still clean!”
They ran on through the woods. Marcus threw a stick, and Oddbins chased it. They followed the path until they came to a steep bank. On top of the bank was a wall, and over the other side was a railway. Marcus and Oddbins liked to climb the bank, sit on the wall, and watch for trains going by. But today the bank looked very muddy.
“Perhaps we should stay here today,” Marcus told Oddbins.
Oddbins looked at him and whined. That was why he was called Oddbins – because he had so many different whines. This was his ‘Please, I really want to go up the bank and sit on the wall and look for trains!’ whine.
“Oh - all right – I’ll just have to carry you,” said Marcus.
So he picked him up and started up the bank.
But the bank was quite steep, and muddy, and slippery: soon Marcus had to crawl up on his knees and one hand. But with the other one he managed to keep Oddbins out of the mud. Gasping and panting, they finally made it to the top.
Marcus looked at his hand and his jeans and his trainers. They were all wet, and leafy and muddy. But Oddbins was still nice and dry and clean.
They sat on the wall, and watched for trains. They knew they weren’t allowed to go any closer, because that would have been dangerous. So they stayed up on the wall.
After a time, a train came by. This was a very special train: because the trains that ran on that line were all pulled by old steam engines.
It came puffing up the hill, blowing clouds of smoke and steam. Marcus shouted, Oddbins barked, the engine whistled, and the driver waved as they went by. Big clouds of smoke billowed everywhere, making Marcus and Oddbins cough.
When the train had gone, Marcus looked at himself and Oddbins. The smoke had stuck to him where he was wet and muddy, but Oddbins was still nice and dry and clean.
“Good boy!” said Marcus, and Oddbins wagged his tail, and made his “Yes I am a good boy!” whine.
“We’d better go home now,” Marcus told him. So they jumped of the wall, and went down the slope.
Going down was a lot easier than going up. Oddbins sat on Marcus’s lap whilst Marcus slid down on his bottom.
Then they ran back along the path through the woods.
When they got to the bushes, Marcus picked Oddbins up again and carried him through.
They ran up the field. When the got to the big puddle, Marcus picked Oddbins up again and carried him over.
Then they ran back up to the house.
Mummy had just finished cleaning the kitchen when they burst in.
“We’re back Mum!” Marcus shouted. “And look – Oddbins is still clean!”
Marcus’s mother shrieked.