Tommy and Toto Stories

Williamson/Short Stories for Children

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TOTO GOES MISSING

Tommy and his little Cairn terrier, Toto, lived in a leafy

suburban street.

This was at a time when your Granddad was a boy and you and

I were only twinkles in God’s eye.

In those days the Milkman, the Baker, the Coalman and the

Fishman all came to the street with their horse-drawn carts.

The Milkman would shout: “Milko!”

The Baker would shout: “Bread, bread, come and get your

bread!”

The Coalman would shout: “Coal and coal bricks.”

The Fishman would shout: “Herrings alive.” But they’d all be

dead.

He meant, of course, that his fish were fresh.

Mums or Grandmums would go out to see what they had, and

would return to their houses with jugs of milk, trays of bread, and

plates of fish. If they needed coal the Coalman would carry the

sack on his back to the coalbunker.

At Tommy’s house there was a sign, which said:

PLEASE KEEP THIS GATE CLOSED. THANK YOU.

This was because as well as Toto there were two Old English

Sheepdogs, one called Frivel and the other called Honeybunch, and


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it would not do if they got out because the streets were getting

dangerous with more and more motor cars coming onto the roads.

One day Tommy did not shut the gate properly. His mum had

sent him on an errand, and as he ran down the street he did not see

Toto come after him.

Being a little dog he had squeezed through the narrowest of

gaps left by the poorly latched gate.

Both Frivel and Honeybunch called for him not to go, but he

did not heed them, and they could not get through the gate to bring

him back.

Tommy’s Mum came out to see what all the barking was about,

and she closed the gate properly. Then she found that Toto was

missing. She looked up and down the street. Toto was nowhere to

be seen. She looked in the back garden and also inside the house.

No Toto.

She was still calling the little dog when Tommy came back.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Toto’s gone. You didn’t shut the gate properly. Now we’ve

got to find him.”

Tommy felt really bad. He always felt sick when he’d done

something wrong and his Mum was angry with him. And if

anything happened to Toto, who had always licked his hand

whenever he’d been told off, it would be his fault.


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Seeing his stricken face his mother regretted her irritability.

“Let’s pray to God we find Toto,” she said, and that is what

they did, holding hands.

Then they went out to look for Toto, taking Frivel and

Honeybunch with them.

On the way the two dogs met with Basil Bloodhound from the

Manse, and they asked him to help them find Toto.

“Why should I?” Basil said. “He’s only a Cairn terrier, not a

real dog like us.”

“He’s our friend,” said Honeybunch.

“And I thought you were our friend,” said Frivel.

“I am,” said Basil.

“Then please help us,” said Honeybunch.

“Oh, very well,” said Basil, who was always very grumpy. He

was one of those dogs who always said he wouldn’t, but who

always did.

“You know what he smells like?” asked Frivel.

“I know, I know,” Basil said, sniffing around and finding

Toto’s trail.

Frivel and Honeybunch nearly pulled Tommy and his mum off

their feet as they followed Basil who was leading them down a

long street to Orangegrove woods.


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And that was where they found Toto, looking frightened and

very dishevelled, hiding under some laurel bushes.

Tommy ran and snatched her up into his arms, crying for joy

that he’d found her. He carried her all the way home.

“Thank you Lord,” said Tommy’s Mum and Tommy said it

too.

“Thank you Basil,” said Frivel and Honeybunch.

“Think nothing of it dear ladies,” Basil said. “I am, after all, a

Bloodhound.”

What happened to Toto is another story.

TOTO AND THE GYPSY CATS.

Toto was one of those fortunate little dogs who were not just for

Christmas but were loved and cherished throughout the years.

Being a lively little Cairn terrier with a keen and inquisitive expression

both of face and of manner, he often got into trouble as he did the time he

squeezed through the narrowest of gaps in the gate his young master

Tommy had not closed properly.

He had wanted to accompany him on the errand he was sent on by his

Mum, but by the time he had got out, Tommy had disappeared around a

corner.


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Tommy wasn’t in the next street either. This street, which to the left,

led to the shops, and to the right, to Orangegrove woods, was empty

except for the presence of two cats.

These cats were not the sleek-looking, well-fed cats from homes like

Toto’s. These cats were lean and mean and had to find their own food.

Their names were Nancy and Clancy and they lived with the gypsies who

were camped in a field in the centre of the woods.

“That dilly wee sog is going to chase us,” Clancy said to Nancy as

Toto caught sight of them.

“What will we do?”

“That’s just the kind of dilly wee sog that Tig Bim is looking for,” said

Clancy.

Big Tim was Chief of the gypsies. Sometimes he made money by

stealing dogs and other pets and then collecting a reward from grateful

owners whenever he returned them.

“We’ll fretend to be prightened, and let it chase us into the woods and

we’ll lead it to Tig Bim,” Clancy said.

And that is what they did when Toto barked and ran in hot pursuit of

the two fleeing cats.

The path into Orangegrove woods crossed a little stream and the cats

followed by Toto rushed over a rustic bridge.

It wasn’t until the woods of oak, ash, silver birch and sycamore trees

got darker and darker that Toto began to grow afraid. He stopped barking


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and running and found he had been led into thickets and tangles of

bramble bushes.

“It’s stopped,” Nancy said to Clancy.

“Dilly wee sog,” Clancy said. He stepped out from cover and called:

“Yoo-hoo! Dilly wee sog! Here we are.” He stuck out his tongue and

made a funny face at Toto.

Toto forgot his fear and charged towards Clancy who turned and ran.

The cats were careful not to get too far in front of Toto in case he lost

them.

Then it got lighter, and they came out of the woods to the field where

the gypsies were camped and their horses grazed.

The cats stopped suddenly and Toto, when he tried to stop, ran into the

moleskin leggings of Big Tim who reached down and picked him up by

the scruff of the neck.

“What have me here?” he said, examining Toto’s collar on which his

name and address was written. “A little dog lost. Well now I’ll be quids in

when I take you back.”

Nancy and Clancy mewed at his feet expecting to be rewarded for

bringing Toto to him.

But Big Tim was an ungrateful gypsy and instead of a reward and a

kind word he aimed a kick at the cats who scattered with practiced ease.

Big Tim put Toto in his caravan and closed the door. It was a horrible

smell and offended Toto’s nose and it was very untidy.


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Toto began to bark, and got a rough command from Big Time outside

to “Shut up yer yappin’!”

Toto went on barking.

“Oh, do be quiet.” Nancy had come through the open back window of

the caravan.

Nancy was not really a bad cat. She did not approve of some of the

things Big Tim did for a living and she sometimes felt bad that she

allowed Clancy to lead her into doing bad things she did not really want to

do.

“You can get out through the window,” she told Toto.

“It’s too high,” Toto said.

“Can’t you jump like a cat?”

“I’m a dog.”

“Get up on the table then and jump from there.”

Toto used a chair to get onto the table, which brought him nearer the

window. He jumped, but fell short.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Nancy said. “And don’t make so

much noise.”

Toto tried again and fell short, but on the third attempt he was able to

scramble across the windowsill and fall to the ground.

He picked herself up and ran like the wind towards the woods,

scrambling through thorns and brambles until she stopped for breath under

a laurel bush.


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And that was what happened to Toto in the woods after he went

missing.

NANCY MAKES HER MOVE.

Nancy and Clancy were two tabby cats who lived in the woods with

the gypsies.

The gypsy chief was called Big Tim, and he did not treat Nancy and

Clancy at all well.

He was a rough man who wore a coarse woollen shirt, a moleskin

waistcoat, and moleskin trousers and very large leather boots.

The feet in these boots often kicked out at Nancy and Clancy who

became expert in dodging them.

But Big Tim had frightened Clancy so much that Clancy had taken to

talking backwards even when Big Tim wasn’t about.

It came time for the gypsies to travel on to another part of the country

and seeing that the preparations were nearly complete, Nancy said to

Clancy:

“I’m not going with them.”

“We have to,” Clancy said.

“Why?” asked Nancy.

“Because we belong to them.”

“Well, I don’t want to belong to them any more.”


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The thought of not going was making Clancy nervous.

“Tig Bim’ll kill us if de gon’t wo.”

“Look what he’s done to you. He’s made you a nervous wreck.”

“I han’t celp it,” Clancy said.

“You’d be all right if you were away from him. We both would.”

“Ce’ll hatch us,” Clancy said.

“Not if we hide in the woods ’till he’s gone.”

“Ce’ll home after us.”

“No he won’t. He doesn’t love us that much.”

And that was what Nancy and Clancy really needed, someone who

would love them and look after them when they became sick and not send

them out in all weathers to catch their own food. They both remembered

the time Clancy was sick and Nancy had to catch enough food for both of

them, and drag him down to the stream so he could drink.

“We need to find somewhere to live where they’ll look after us. But

first we have to hide in the woods until Big Tim is gone,” Nancy said.

So they hid in the woods until the gypsies had moved on.

They found a hollow of an old oak tree and curled up together for heat

and slept until sunrise.

That day they came out onto the streets of Orangegrove. They found

food in the bowls of pet dogs and cats. They weren’t fussy, dog meat was

just as good as cat meat, and anyway, only human beings knew the

difference because they could read what was on the labels.


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They got chased away often and scampered through holes in hedges,

or scrambled over walls and fences.

They came into a garden where there were large trees, four flower

beds, a lawn, and a border all round the four sides. In one bed was a

butterfly bush attracting lots of butterflies. At the end of the garden was a

pergola barely seen under a profusion of leaves and flowers of climbing

roses, honeysuckle, clematis, and wisteria.

Robins, Dunnocks, House Sparrows, not to mention Thrushes, and

Blackbirds came to feed from the bird table.

“This is a nice place. The people here are nice to birds,” said Nancy.

“There are hogs dere,” Clancy said, pointing to two large kennels and

a smaller one.

Just then the back door of the house opened and a little Cairn terrier

ran out into the garden followed by a young boy carrying a cricket bat and

a tennis ball.

“It’s that dilly wee sog,” Clancy said. “The one you helped get away

from Tig Bim.”*

Nancy recognized Toto, and watched as the dog and the boy played on

the lawn. The boy hit the ball and Toto brought it back.

After a while the back door opened and the boy’s mother came out.

“Tommy,” she called.


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Tommy had been swinging at the ball and was startled into hitting it

too hard so that it flew high into the air and got stuck in the forked

branches of one of the tall trees.

“Mum, look what you’ve made me do,” Tommy said. “It’s the only

ball I’ve got. How am I going to get it down again?”

Tommy’s mother came and looked up into the tree. “It’s stuck all

right,” she said. “Come in now and we’ll see about it later.”

“Quick, Clancy,” Nancy said. “Before they go in.”

Clancy followed Nancy wondering what she wanted him to do.

“Mum, look at those two cats,” Tommy said.

“Be careful,” Toto barked, recognizing Nancy.

Tommy’s mother watched in amazement as the two cats climbed into

the tree and along to the forked branch where the ball had stuck.

“Can you prise it out?” Nancy asked Clancy.

“I sink tho,” said Clancy.

It took a little time, but the two cats worked together, and finally freed

the ball, which fell to the ground to be gathered up by the waiting Toto.

Toto put the ball down in front of Tommy.

“Nancy is my friend,” he barked, trying to tell Tommy and his Mum

how Nancy had rescued him.

“That’s amazing,” Tommy’s mother said. “Just a minute. I must get

them some milk. They look half starved, poor things.”


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She came out again with two bowls of milk, and set them down

calling, “Swish-swish-swish.”

“After we lap the milk,” Nancy instructed Clancy, “arch your back and

rub against her legs.”

“You wink it’ll thork?” asked Clancy.

That night, Toto, and Nancy and Clancy were all curled up together in

a nice warm kennel.

CLANCY’S NIGHTMARE IS OVER.

“It seems,” said Tommy’s Mum, “that those cats were left behind by

the gypsies.”

Little did she realize that Nancy and Clancy had run away from the

gypsies.

“That means nobody owns them, now,” said Tommy.

“It means they’re stray cats and we’ll have to inform the animal

shelter,” said Tommy’s Mum.

“What will happen to them there?” Tommy asked.

“They’ll be kept until someone who wants them will give them a

home.”

“What if someone only wants one of them?”

“Then they’ll go to different homes.”

“They mightn’t like that,” said Tommy. “What if nobody wants them

at all?”


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Tommy’s Mum didn’t answer, but Tommy insisted on knowing.

“They’d have to be put down.”

“Put down? You mean killed?”

“Yes, Tommy, that’s what sometimes happens.”

“We must keep them.”

“Do we want two stray cats?”

“Yes,” said Tommy, emphatically. “Look how helpful they were when

they got my ball down from the tree, and look how well they get on with

Toto, and Frivel, and Honeybunch.”

And right enough, when Tommy’s Mum looked out through the doors

of the French Window, there were the three dogs, two Old English

Sheepdogs, and a Cairn terrier, and the two tabby cats sitting in a circle on

the lawn looking for all the world as if they were having a serious

conversation.

Which of course was what they were doing. Having a terribly serious

conversation about why, during the night, Clancy sometimes had the most

awful nightmares from which he awoke sweating and in terror, and why,

during the day, when he spoke he got his words mixed up.

For instance when he called Toto a ‘silly wee dog’, he always said, ‘a

dilly wee sog’.

“I han’t celp it,” Clancy said, “and I’m sorry I called you a dilly wee

sog, you’re really a very dice wee nog.”

“Can’t he stop doing it?” Frivel asked Nancy as if Clancy wasn’t there.


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“He’s tried,” Nancy said. “But he still does it.”

“I think it’s absolutely fabulous,” Honeybunch said. “It’s fo sunny.”

“Mocking’s catching,” said Toto. “That’s what Tommy’s Mum says.”

And because he thought it rude to talk about someone as if they were not

there, he asked Clancy, “What happened to make you talk like that?”

“It was Big Tim,” Nancy answered for Clancy.

Toto didn’t think that was right either. “Let Clancy have a say,” he

said.

“He doesn’t talk about it.” Nancy said.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Toto asked Clancy.

Clancy took a long time to consider.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I tant to walk about it.”

“This fould be shun,” said Honeybunch.

“Honeybunch!” said Frivel, severely. “Don’t do that. It’s not nice.”

Honeybunch from sitting on her haunches subsided to her belly on the

lawn.

“Sorry,” she said.

Clancy went back in time and told them of the day when the gypsies

had first come to Orangegrove woods.

The sun was shining and the birds were singing and the white candles

on the Chestnut trees were standing straight. The breeze was warm and

gentle, and Clancy dozed on the steps of Big Tim’s caravan.

As far as Clancy was concerned all was well with the world.


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“I was off exploring the woods,” Nancy said, breaking in. “You’d have

done better coming with me, but no, you were too lazy. Always wanting to

doze on the steps of the caravan.”

Clancy had been dozing so deeply that he had not heard the stealthy

approach of Big Tim.

Next thing he knew he was being held in the air by the scruff of the

neck in a hard callused hand.

“Gotcha!” exclaimed Big Tim, regarding the startled, struggling cat in

triumph. “And now my fine boyo, me and you’s goin’ to see the man.”

Big Tim’s use of the English language was not all that correct.

He held Clancy against all wriggling until he opened the mouth of a

hessian bag and shoved Clancy inside. He tied the neck of the bag closed

with a piece of cord.

Inside the bag it was dusty and dark and what little light there was

came through the hundreds of small spaces between the hessian weave.

Clancy went wild and tried to claw his way out, but he wasn’t able to

do it. His panic mounted and from outside it looked like the bag had

convulsions.

Clancy knew that the gypsies put kittens in a bag and drowned them

when they were too many and unwanted. This is what he thought Big Tim

was going to do to him, and he struggled all the more.

Then they were on the move with the bag slung over Big Tim's

shoulder.


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“To the river,” he thought. “He’s taking me to the river.”

“I saw him that day,” Nancy said, breaking in again. “Walking through

the woods with a sack on his back. I didn’t know you were in it.”

“Where did he take you?” asked Toto. “Was it to the river? How did

you escape?”

When at last Big Tim stopped walking and put the sack down and

undid the string to get the cat out of the bag, Clancy raked his hand with

his claws.

Big Tim said a lot of bad words and was about to reach in again more

roughly when another voice said:

“Allow me.”

And softer, gentler hands reached in and expertly extracted Clancy

from the sack.

“You need not stay, Mr. Toner,” this other man said. “You can come

back tomorrow for your cat.”

“Right you are, doctor,” Big Tim said. “Do I pay you now?”

“Tomorrow will do,” said the man who was an animal doctor.

“He brought you back in a cat box,” Nancy said. “I remember that.”

“I don’t remember what happened,” Clancy said. “I remember going to

sleep and waking up in a cage and then when Big Tim came to get me, and

brought me back, that was when I started talking backwards and having

nightmares.”

“But you said all that without talking backwards,” exclaimed Toto


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“Did I?”

“You did,” said Nancy.

“I did,” said Clancy in wonder.

It seemed that just talking to friends about what had happened to him

had cured Clancy.

“You’re not a silly wee dog,” he said to Toto. “You’re really a very

nice wee dog.”

A KID WITH TWO FATHERS. “Why is Tommy’s father hardly ever at home?”

The question was asked by Goldie, the golden Labrador who wore a

harness with a handle and who guided Sam who was blind around obstacles.

“It’s because he’s an L.D.M.,” Frivel said.

“What’s an L.D.M.?” asked Goldie.

“A Long Distance Man,” said Honeybunch, pleased that she knew

something that Goldie did not know. “He has to travel long distances to find

work, and when he finds it he has to stay there for long times until the work is

finished, then he comes home or finds other work someplace else.”

“Tommy must miss him,” Goldie said. “Sam would miss his father if he

had to do that.”

“Tommy would,” said Toto, “if it wasn’t for his Father in Heaven.”

“And did you know,” said Goldie, that his Father in Heaven is also ours?”

Goldie was the only dog allowed to go to Sunday school and to Church.


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Frivel and Honeybunch had not known that, but Toto did because he had

been there when Tommy’s Dad had told Tommy about his Father in Heaven.

Tommy had been crying because he had not wanted his Daddy to go away.

“Tommy,” his father had said. “There’s no need to cry. Mummy will be

here and although I’ll be far away, you still have a Father in Heaven who

loves you, and will look after you. He is my Father and Mummy’s Father as

well.”

“What about Toto?”

“Toto’s too, and Frivel’s and Honeybunch’s. So, what I want you to do

while I’m away is to be obedient to your mother, always tell the truth, be kind

to the animals, and look out for others who can’t look out for themselves. Go

to Sunday school and learn as much as you can about what your Heavenly

Father wants you to do.”

“That’s what he said,” Toto told the others.

“So, he’s a kid with two fathers. What’s it like in Sunday school?” asked

Honeybunch.

“It’s really nice to hear the voices of all the children when they sing,”

Goldie said, “but sometimes something happens that isn’t so good.”

“Like what?” asked Toto.

“Well,” said Goldie settling down to tell the story, “a boy called Graham

brought a car badge to Sunday school and it was stolen.”

Graham had both lapels of his blazer filled with car badges, which the car

makers were issuing at that time. He was showing the other boys the latest one


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he’d got. It was a Rolls Royce Badge and it went from hand to hand and was

gazed at with envious eyes.

Sam felt it with his fingers and handed it back to Graham who pinned it in

his lapel with the others.

The children hung their coats and blazers up and went into assembly

where they sang and prayed before going to their classes to have their lessons.

Graham, whose nose was running and who had been told not to sniff went

to get his hanky from his blazer and he came back looking most distressed.

He spoke to the Sunday school Superintendent who went out again with

him, and when he came back he told Graham to go to his class.

When the classes were finished and the final hymn had been sung, the

Superintendent told everyone to stay where they were. He spoke to the other

teachers and they got the children to form lines in front of them.

Graham has lost his Rolls Royce badge,” the Superintendent said. “It may

have been taken or simply misplaced, but each of you will pass in front of

your teacher and empty your pockets and handbags.”

Tommy’s eyes caught a movement, and he glanced across to see a boy in

another line put something into Sam’s pocket. The boy’s name was Trevor.

When Sam came before his teacher, and emptied his pockets, Graham’s

badge was there.

The teacher called the Superintendent. He looked at the badge.

“Sam,” he said, “how did you come by this badge?”

“I ddddon’t know, sir,” Sam stuttered.


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“How were you able to take it?”

“I dddidn’t, sir, honest.”

“Now tell me the truth, young man.”

“I can tell you,” Goldie said to the others, “I was on my feet by this time

showing my teeth and growling. I didn’t like the man’s tone. Adults don’t

think sometimes and jump to the wrong conclusions. If it hadn’t been for

Tommy, I might have bitten him.”

Tommy came over and said he had seen Trevor put something into Sam’s

pocket, which he thought might have been the badge.

“Is this true, Trevor?”

“Why didn’t you keep your rotten mouth shut?” Trevor snarled at Tommy.

“I couldn’t let you get Sam into trouble,” Tommy said.

“I’ll speak to your parents about this,” the Superintendent said.

“Oh no, sir, don’t do that,” Trevor said.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to.”

“I’m goin’ to get you for this,” Trevor hissed at Tommy.

“I remember Tommy worried himself nearly sick,” Toto said. “And that

night he prayed: ‘Heavenly Father, don’t let Trevor get me, please.”

All that week Tommy worried that Trevor was going to get him. On

Wednesday when he was walking home from school, Trevor who had been

lying in wait for him stepped out and stopped him.

“I want to talk to you,” he said.

“What about?” Tommy wanted to run but stood his ground.


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“About what you did in Sunday school.”

“I told the truth.”

“That’s what Da said.”

“But you’re goin’ to get me anyway?”

“Da said you’d make a good friend. Said I should make friends with you.

You want to be my friend?”

“You won’t be getting me, then?”

“No, Da said that would be wrong.”

“And now they’re friends,” said Toto.

“Trevor was wise to heed his father and now he walks to Sunday school

with Sam and Tommy,” said Goldie,

LOOKING AFTER MRS. BLACKBIRD. “This is a dangerous place, Clancy,” Nancy said. “Especially for the

birds.”

Nancy, one of the two tabby cats was talking about Tommy’s garden.

“Now stop that?”

Clancy had been stalking Mrs. Blackbird who had flown away with a

shrill chatter.

“But it’s what we cats do,” Clancy said. “We chase mice and birds.”

“We should do it only when we’re hungry,” Nancy said. “Like we did in

the woods when we were living with Big Tim.”


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“Don’t remind me.” Clancy shivered.

“Now we don’t need to because Tommy’s Mum feeds us.”

“But I like to catch birds,” Clancy said.

“So do I, but I don’t do it any more.”

“Why not, Nancy?”

“Because I want this garden to be like that other garden that human beings

talk about: the Garden of Eden.”

“I’ve heard them talk about that,” Clancy said.

The Garden of Eden, which at one time was the whole world, had been a

safe haven for all created creatures.

It had been a place where no bird ever had to eat a worm, and no lion ever

had to eat a lamb, and where human beings lived in harmony with one another

without going to war; a place where no one died but lived forever.

It had been a place where every living creature got its nourishment from

the vegetables that grew in the ground and were only too pleased to renew

themselves each season.

God had walked in the Garden of Eden. Around his head had flown the

birds and the butterflies. Wolves licked His hand, and Tigers and Bears liked

to amble after Him as he talked with the human beings.

“It must have been wonderful,” Nancy said with a sigh of regret for a

place that was no more.

“But it will be again,” Clancy said. “I heard them say that.”


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“And, in the meanwhile,” Nancy said, “we must try to make our garden

here as much as possible like the Garden of Eden.

“How do we do that?” Clancy asked, but Nancy was not able to answer

him because Tommy came rushing out of the house waving his hands and

shouting at a flock of starlings that had just swooped in to gobble up all the

food leaving the Robin and the Sparrows with slim pickings.

Tommy’s Mum, who liked the starlings because they looked after their

young so well, came out and called to him:

“Don’t startle the Starling, darling Do not have a brush with the Thrush

When the Blackbird and Robin, come a bobbin’ Out of their nesting bush

Feed them a little and talk to them too Like you do to the elephant

When you go to the zoo. For a bird’s life is not that long

It only lasts a season But it can enchant us with a song

And for that very reason Don’t startle the Starling, darling

Do not have a brush with the Thrush When the Blackbird and Robin, come a bobbin’

Out of their nesting bush Feed them a little and talk to them too

Like you do to the elephant When you go to the zoo.”

“Look,” Nancy said. “There’s Mrs. Blackbird again.”

“Why is she brown?” asked Clancy.

“Mr. Blackbird is black with a yellow beak, but Mrs. Blackbird is brown,”

Nancy said.


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The two cats watched as Tommy’s Mum took a yellow grape from her

pocket and hunkered down with Tommy beside her. She held out the grape in

the palm of her hand.

Mrs. Blackbird looked about with a wary eye for danger. She saw Nancy

and Clancy, and fluttered away a few feet.

“Go on, take it,” Nancy said. “We won’t harm you.”

“He was after me a minute ago,” Mrs. Blackbird said, looking at Clancy.

“I won’t do anything,” Clancy told her.

But still Mrs. Blackbird hesitated. She looked at the proffered grape. How

she loved grapes. She’d even taken to hopping up to the doors of the French

windows and tapping on the glass with her beak to get some.

Mrs. Blackbird, quick as a flash, rushed forward and took the grape and

flew low to beneath the rhododendron bush where she ate the grape.

She came back for another and this time took it from Tommy’s hand.

But there was another pair of cat’s eyes watching. These eyes belonged to

a black cat called Blodger who slunk, like a panther, from garden to garden

seeking prey.

Blodger had observed that each time Mrs. Blackbird took a grape from the

hands of the human beings, she flew under the rhododendron bush to eat it.

Blodger thought it would be a good idea to lie in wait just a pounce away

from where Mrs. Blackbird ate her grapes.

To his surprise he found himself joined by two tabby cats, who politely

introduced themselves as Nancy and Clancy.


25

“We know what you are intending to do,” Nancy said. “And we’d like you

not to do it.”

“Go away,” Blodger said. “You’ll ruin my kill.”

“Clear off,” said Clancy. The backs of both Nancy and Clancy arched and

they stood high on their four legs, their tails curling and twisting angrily.

“Why should I?” Blodger said.

“Because you’ll have us to deal with if you don’t,” Clancy said.

Blodger thought better of arching his own back. He knew that these were

the wild gypsy cats from the woods and he did not want to tangle with them.

“I did not mean to invade your territory,” he said.

“That’s all right,” Nancy said, “Now go.”

“And don’t come back,” said Clancy.

Blodger slunk away into the next garden.

And it came to pass that Mrs. Blackbird continued to be hand-fed on

grapes, hatched her young, and when her chicks were fully fledged she

brought them to the French window to show to Tommy and his Mum.

“Isn’t that nice?” Nancy said.

“It is,” said Clancy.

BILLY THE MENACE Toto knew that his master Tommy thought that Barbara, the little girl who

lived directly across the road in number six was really lovely.


26

She had long blonde hair that fell in waves to below the level of her

shoulders, and when she ran it streamed out behind her in the wind.

She had an oval face, large eyes that were as blue as cornflowers, and a

pert little nose. Her smile was sunshine.

“I think he’s in love with her,” Toto said to Frivel and Honeybunch.

“But,” said Honeybunch, “they’re much too young.”

“Human beings love by being tender hearted towards each other,” Toto

said, “and you can’t be too young for that.”

“They get all mushy,” said Frivel. “But Tommy is sad today. Why is he

so sad?”

“Barbara told him off,” Toto said.

“What for?” asked Honeybunch.

“Because of what he said to her brother, Billy.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there when he said it. I was there when she told him off.”

“Tell us,” said Honeybunch.

So, Toto told them.

Barbara’s brother Billy was a pain in the neck. He was always up to some

kind of mischief.

He took great delight in making other people mad at him, so mad that they

would lose their patience and chase him.

Billy was very hard to catch. He could run like a hare, and no one could

keep up with him.


27

When his pursuer came to a halt, winded, and stood, bent over with his

hands on knees, he would stop, turn round, and laugh.

There is a stream that runs through Orangegrove woods and in this stream

there are little fish called sticklebacks because of the sharp spines on their

backs.

Tommy and Toto, with jam jar and net, were at this little stream fishing

for these sticklebacks. Tommy barelegged stood in the middle of the stream,

which was quite shallow.

This was the time when the Hawthorn berries were ripening and the stone

at the centre of the haw fruit made the best ammunition for a peashooter.

Tommy and Toto didn’t know Billy was there until Tommy was hit on the

back of the neck with a pluffed haw stone.

He looked up to see Billy standing on the bank with his peashooter aimed

at him again.

“Don’t do it, Billy,” he warned.

“But Billy did it again, and hit Tommy, this time, in the face.”

Toto barked and tried to get Billy to stop, but that only brought the pea-

shooter to bear on himself a couple of times before Billy aimed once again at

Tommy.

“Away, and give my head peace, Billy.” Tommy shouted.

But Billy just laughed and went on pluffing. He wanted Tommy to come

out of the water and chase him.


28

Tommy made to come out of the stream, and Billy drew in a big breath,

which he knew he would need to pluff the two haws he had in the peashooter.

He sucked these in and they went down his throat. Billy almost choked but

they went on down into his stomach.

“Did you swallow a haw?” Tommy asked.

“Two,” said Billy. “Will they do any harm?”

“Haws are poison,” Tommy said. “If you don’t get home in the next two

minutes, and drink a pint of tap water, you’ll die.”

Billy took to his heels and Tommy watched him go and he laughed before

turning back to catching sticklebacks.

Tommy and Toto went home an hour later. Barbara was waiting for them

at the gate. She had her arms folded and she wasn’t smiling.

“That was a terrible thing you did,” she said to Tommy.

“What?” said Tommy.

“Our wee Billy’s lying on his bed thinking he’s going to die, because you

told him he would if he didn’t get home in two minutes and drink a pint of tap

water after swallowing two haws.”

“Did he drink the water?”

“He did.”

“He’ll be all right then,”

“It took him ten minutes to get home. He thinks he’s going to die.”

“He won’t die.”


29

“That’s what Mam says, but Billy won’t believe it. He believes that lie

you told him. I didn’t think you would tell lies, Tommy. I don’t want to know

you any more.”

And with that she ran off to her own house, leaving Tommy with a sick

feeling in his stomach.

“Oh, Toto,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t told that lie.”

Toto knew it was wrong to tell lies, and nothing but trouble ever came

from not telling the truth. He licked his master’s hand.

“That’s why he’s sad,” Toto told Frivel and Honeybunch.

The dogs were in the front garden when, with their acute hearing, they

heard light footsteps skipping across the street.

Barbara opened the gate, came through, closed it behind her, and knocked

on the front door.

Tommy opened the door.

“Coming out to play?” Barbara asked, smiling.

“But you said you didn’t want to know me any more,” Tommy said.

“That was yesterday,” Barbara said. “Billy’s all right, and Mam said he

deserved what he got and it would maybe teach him not to be such a pest.”

Nevertheless, Tommy thought from now on he’d stick to telling the truth.

Even if it meant having to put up with a nuisance.

FRIVEL, HONEYBUNCH AND THE PEOPLE SHOW.

It was Toto who told the two tabby cats, Nancy and Clancy about Frivel,

Honeybunch, and the People Show.


30

The little Cairn terrier was sunning himself in Tommy’s back garden and

watching the two cats playing ‘tag’ with the butterflies, standing on their hind

legs and pawing at the Red Admirals and the Cabbage Whites, and only

pretending to catch them.

They decided to give the butterflies a break and came to where Toto was

lying, his little red tongue dangling out and panting because it was a very

warm day.

“Where are Frivel and Honeybunch?” Clancy asked.

Frivel and Honeybunch were two Old English Sheepdogs who also lived

with Tommy and shared the garden.

“They’ve taken Tommy’s Granny and Auntie to this year’s People Show,”

Toto said.

“What’s the People’s Show?” asked Nancy.

Toto told her that many dogs who owned pedigree people had a desire to

enter them in a People Show.

Frivel, who was Honeybunch’s mother, had been doing this for some

years now. It had become an annual event.

“So why don’t you show Tommy?” asked Clancy.

“Tommy hasn’t got a pedigree,” Toto said.

“Why not?”

“Because Tommy’s father married someone against the wishes of his

mother and sister,” said Toto, “and Tommy’s Mum isn’t considered to be one

of the best people.”


31

“So only the best people can enter this People Show?” said Nancy.

True enough, Toto told them, but not all pedigree people were of show

quality. For instance, Frivel and Honeybunch had never won a Prize Card or a

Rosette with Dh Karel Wild Flower and Ph Vison Tame Coral.”

“Who are they?” asked Clancy.

“Tommy’s Granny and Auntie. Those are their Show names,” Toto said.

Each time they failed to win a prize both Frivel and Honeybunch were

devastated. Toto wondered how long it would be before they would recognize

that their people were not of the show quality necessary to win.

They always started out with high hopes of winning the coveted Stately

House Club Challenge Certificate, but never had they qualified.

“Must have been doing something wrong,” was Clancy’s opinion.

“Let me tell you about last year,” said Toto, “when they entered the

qualifying rounds of the Orangegrove People Show.

Frivel and Honeybunch had arrived with plenty of time to spare, and had

been allocated two benches side by side, one for Dh Karel Wild Flower,

Tommy’s Granny, and the other for Ph Vison Tame Coral, Tommy’s Auntie.

Above this bench was a rack that held their name and number, and they

hoped by the end of the show it would hold Prize Cards and Rosettes.

At the back of each bench was a ring to which Frivel and Honeybunch

clipped the chains attached to their people’s collars. Underneath was space to

pack away the food and drink Dh Karel Wild Flower and Ph Vison Tame

Coral would need for that day.


32

“We had them most properly benched,” Frivel had told Toto after it was

all over. “Nothing obscured the view the judges would have of them.

“But unfortunately they misbehaved,” Honeybunch had said. “They kept

standing up and talking to each other over the bench partitions.”

“Not only that,” Frivel had complained, “they kept sneaking bottles of

lemonade and drank it straight from the bottle just when the judges were

approaching.”

“How many points that lost them I just don’t know,” Honeybunch had

lamented.

Frivel and Honeybunch had made sure that they, themselves, had been

immaculately groomed, but by the time their people entered the great judging

ring where they had to obey the instructions of the judges, they looked

rumpled and frumpy, and no amount of sponging and brushing was able to

straighten them out.

“And how they behaved in the ring,” Honeybunch had said. “I still

shudder to think about it.” And she did in fact shudder.

The Old English Sheepdogs had been the essence of attention in the ring,

but Dh Karel Wild Flower and Ph Vison Tame Coral, kept pulling on their

leads in order to talk to other inattentive people.

“Which did not impress the judges favourably at all,” Frivel had said,

“because the judges could not get their attention. And then Ph Vison Tame

Coral developed a runny nose and the most horrendous sniff.”


33

“And Dh Karel Wild Flower having to leave the ring on more than one

occasion to go to the toilet just about sunk our chances of qualifying,”

Honeybunch had said.

“They came home very downhearted,” Toto told Nancy and Clancy.

“But they went back again this year,” Clancy said.

Toto sighed.

“Frivel and Honeybunch should know better,” he said. “For Goldie, who

goes to Sunday school with Tommy, Trevor, and Sam, told them that with

God, all people are equal, and all have His pedigree of being made in His

image.”

CIRCUS. Barbara came asking if Tommy could come with Billy and her to the

circus.

“Daddy’s taking us,” she said to Tommy’s Mum.

“Will he not mind having Tommy with him?” asked Tommy’s Mum.

“No, We asked him and he said it would be all right if you agreed.”

“Well,” said Tommy’s Mum. “I don’t know.”

“Please Mum, can’t I go?” Tommy said. He’d come to the door when he’d

heard Barbara’s voice.

“I had intended to take Tommy to the circus myself,” said his Mum.


34

Tommy stood there, saying nothing, but his face showed the struggle he

was having for he wanted to go to the circus with Barbara, but he also did not

want to disappoint his Mum if she wanted to take him.

His mother looked at him.

“It would be nice if you went with Barbara, Billy and their Dad,” she said.

“But you must pay your own way.”

That same afternoon Tommy walked with Barbara, Billy and their Dad

through Orangegrove woods until they came to the field where the gypsies

had once camped.

In the centre of the field was a huge tent pegged securely with strong ropes

on all sides. This was the Big Top.

All around it were multi-coloured wagons and cages with drawings of

clowns, trapeze artists, horses, lions, tigers, bears and elephants on their sides

and ends.

There was also a Fun Fair with merry-go-rounds, and dodgem cars and a

big wheel.

When Billy saw the Ghost Train he insisted they all go on it. They

rumbled into darkness and were swooped on by moaning, groaning white

sheeted ghosts and skeletons, headless bodies and bodiless heads, and bats

that screamed and shrieked, as Barbara did when cobwebs clung to her face.

Billy was the only one laughing when they came out into the light again.

They went to a coconut shy where Tommy did better than Billy and won a

little Teddy Bear.


35

He gave it to Barbara who said she loved Teddy Bears and told him she

had two others at home.

They went to see the animals.

The lions and tigers paced up and down with swinging tails and yellow

eyes. The camels chewed their cud and sometimes spat at people who got too

close. They watched the elephants being washed and dressed.

Then came the time they were to go into the Big Top.

Tommy paid his own way in but Barbara’s Dad bought them all cones of

ice cream.

They took their seats as the Big Top filled up. Barbara and Billy sat on

each side of their father, and Tommy sat next to Barbara who leaned against

her Dad with her arm linked through his.

There was a drum roll and the Ring Master came striding into the centre

ring dressed in a scarlet coat, cream riding breeches, brown leather boots, and

a black top hat. He carried a long whip, which he cracked before announcing

that the show had begun.

Out through the curtains came the parade of the performers, and from then

on Tommy was lost in the action of the spectacle.

Two days later Tommy was talking to Barbara about the circus.

“I really enjoyed it,” he said. “Did you?”

“I wrote a poem about it,” she said. “I can show it to you if you like.”

“All right.”

She handed him a sheet of paper, and he read Barbara’s poem.


36

CIRCUS. We went to see the circus

When it came to town, With all the pretty horses,

And the white-faced clown. The trio on the high trapeze Made us catch our breath,

As upside-down they Swung and swooped,

And really diced with death. The lady, she was beautiful, She looked just like my mum,

Except where she had flatness, My mummy has a tum.

My daddy sits beside me, I wished that he would stay,

But I only see him once a week, And then he goes away.

“My Dad goes away too, Tommy said.”

“Do your Mum and Dad love each other?” Barbara asked.

“Oh yes,” Tommy said.

“My Mum and Dad love Billy and me, but they don’t love each other.”

Tommy felt very sad about that. He knew it would be better for Barbara

and Billy if their Mum and Dad loved each other.

TREE AND MAGGIE PIE.

There is a tree in Tommy’s garden.

It is a tall tree, not a small tree in any sense of the word small.

It is a big tree, big, not because of its great height, but big because it

enjoys giving of itself.


37

It gives food and shelter to the birds and the squirrels and many, many

insects that busy themselves around its roots.

It has a bole that requires four full grown human beings, holding hands, to

encircle, and it gives shade in the summertime when the sun is shining and

precious skin needs to be protected.

It is not only a giving tree; it is a receiving tree, for although it is better for

us to give than to receive, we cannot give without graciously receiving.

And Tree always says “Thank you” for what it receives, and what it

receives is information for Tree is very knowledgeable, and knows almost

everything there is to know.

This is because it once had an ancestor that had flourished in another

garden a very long time ago where it produced fruit that contained the

knowledge of what was good and what was evil.

The seeds of this tree were scattered throughout the world at the time

when the human beings were evicted from this first garden, on that dark and

stormy night, for not doing what they were told.

Tree is thankful to the Four Winds for bringing him knowledge of the

world, so it now knows that Tommy’s Mum is terribly upset because she has

lost her engagement ring.

“She’s turning the house upside-down trying to find it,” said the South

Wind that had become in these summer months a gentle, cooling breeze.

Tree knew she would not find it in the house. In fact, Tree knew exactly

where the ring was.


38

“Bring Maggie Pie to me,” Tree told South Wind.

Maggie Pie was a large black and white bird with a greenish tail that was

half as long as she was. Her wings were blue and green and she flew to Tree

with fast beats of her wings and long glides on the wind.

“You wished to see me, Tree?” she said coming to rest on one of Tree’s

branches. She looked round for something she could eat, but there was no fruit

on Tree.

“I do,” said Tree. “I’m going to ask you to do something you might not

want to do.”

“And what might that be?” asked Maggie Pie.

“The lady who lives in this house has lost her engagement ring. She can’t

find it anywhere, but you and I know its lying at the bottom of your nest

among your seven eggs.”

“I found it.”

“I know you did, Maggie,” Tree said. “I know you found it, but I want you

to bring it back to where you found it.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because it would be the right thing to do. Engagement rings are

important to ladies, and it would bring her great joy if she found it again.”

“Does she not have other rings?”

“She has,” Tree said, and asked South Wind, “How many?”

“Nine others,” said South Wind.


39

“Let her be content with those,” Maggie Pie said. “I’ll keep the one I

have.”

“It’s not right that you should keep it,” Tree said. “You have stolen it. It’s

wrong.”

“What is stolen?” Maggie Pie said. “I know nothing of right and wrong.”

“Please,” Tree said. I’m asking you to bring it back.”

“I don’t see why I should, said Maggie Pie.

Tree sighed.

“No, I don’t suppose you do,” he said. “You don’t know you’re a thief.”

“What’s a thief?” asked Maggie Pie.

“If you don’t want to know,” said Tree, “then do not eat any of my fruit.”

The fruit that suddenly appeared on the branch beside Maggie Pie looked

soft, and juicy, and peachy.

“That wasn’t there when I landed,” Maggie Pie said.

“And it won’t be there when you have gone.”

“Never again?”

Not for you,” Tree said.

“I must take it while I can get it,” said Maggie Pie with a greedy eye, and

she thrust her beak into the fruit and began to eat.

When she had eaten the fruit she gave the most terrible screech and asked

Tree why she felt so unhappy.

“You will be happy if you do what is right,” Tree said.


40

Maggie Pie flew off and it wasn’t long before she came back carrying

Tommy’s Mum’s engagement ring in her beak.

The kitchen window was open as it had been when she had taken the ring

from the inside windowsill. She now put it back before flying to Tree.

“I know now I was a thief.”

“From now on,” Tree said, “if you do not take what does not belongs to

you, you will not be a thief.”

Tommy’s Mum, as Tree had known, rejoiced to find her lost ring. She told

everyone about finding it.

“I turned the house upside-down,” she said, “but it was on the windowsill

all the time. I’m sure I looked there in the first place.”

THE CASE OF CHUCKIE CHIHUAHUA.

The name is Basil Bloodhound.

When I’m not lying in front of the fire of a winter’s evening being the

family pet, I’m a Private Investigator.

I live with the Minister who is there to see that people in need get what

God wants them to get.

I’m like that myself only I help dogs and other animals.

Take for instance the case of Chuckie Chihuahua.

I am walking down the street only the other day when Mrs. Chihuahua

comes to me in great agitation.


41

“I need your help, Basil,” she says. “My little son, Chuckie is being

bullied in Puppy School. He won’t say who’s doing it, so I want you to find

out and put a stop to it. I can’t afford to pay you much.”

I know that Mrs. Chihuahua comes from a needy family and is hardly

likely to be able to afford three bones a day plus expenses.

I decide there and then to do the job ‘pro bono’, which means for nothing,

because stamping out bullying, is of benefit to the whole community.

I go to see Chuckie, but he is so curled up and cowed with fear that he

won’t even pass the time of day with me.

“He’s gone off his food,” Mrs. Chihuahua tells me, “ and he won’t go to

school any more.”

Chuckie just wants to sleep.

Next, I pick up Toto the Cairn terrier who’s one of the School Governors

and we speak to the Headmistress at the school.

She’s a Dalmatian and is not pleased to be told that there’s bullying at her

school. She’s not all that helpful, until Toto puts pressure on her, then she

goes and talks to the other teachers.

She comes back and says that none of the puppies have said anything to

the teachers about bullying.

“We’d like to talk to the puppies,” I say.

As bullies tend to be bigger than those they bully we decide to talk with

the smallest puppies first.


42

It’s not long before we find out that Robbie Rottweiler has been hitting,

punching biting, and shoving the little ones, and eating their lunches.

And with the case of Chuckie he has made it so that Chuckie’s friends are

afraid to play with Chuckie.

They’re also afraid of what Robbie will do to them now that they’ve told

on him.

“Don’t be afraid,” I tell them, “You’ve done the right thing. We’ll take

care of it.”

We talk to Robbie Rottweiler.

“What’s the big deal,” he says. “They’re all wimps. They ask for it. They

should take care of themselves like I do.”

“This bullying has got to stop,” says the Headmistress.

“Who’s going to stop me?”

“You’ve got to obey the school rules, Robbie,” Toto says.

“You keep quite, Cairn, or I’ll set my Dad on you.”

I tell him I’m going to see his Dad.

“He’ll soon see you off, Bloodhound.”

Toto wants to come with me but I have other plans.

The Rottweiler’s live in that part of town where it isn’t good to go at night.

I get there in the early afternoon just after Mrs. Rottweiler goes to collect

Robbie from school.

I tell Mr. Rottweiler I’ve come to talk to him about Robbie’s behaviour.

“What about it?” he says, with a growl in his throat.


43

I remember a verse that the Minister read out to his wife saying it would

be suitable for a sermon, “In God I have put my trust, I will not be afraid of

what man can do to me.” I am hoping the same holds for dogs.

“He’s bullying the other puppies,” I say.

“So what? They probably ask for it.”

“It’s not right,” I say. “I want you to tell him that you won’t tolerate

bullying and that he’s not to do it any more.”

He laughs at me and tells me to get lost.

“That’s what I want you to do.”

“Listen Bloodhound, I wouldn’t like to be you if you’re still here two

minutes from now.”

I stand my ground.

“Thought you might say that,” I say, and give one of my mournful howls,

which bring two of my police friends from around the corner.

They are Sean and Seamus the Wolfhound brothers, and they show their

teeth to Mr. Rottweiler.

“Mr. Rottweiler,” I say. “Listen carefully to me. Unless you do, as we

want and tell Robbie to stop his bullying, he is going to be expelled from

school and that will deprive him of his education, and without his education

he will find it difficult to get on well in life. Now, do you want that to happen?

Another thing. You and your family will become pariahs; nobody will want to

know you.”


44

While Mr. Rottweiler is thinking this over, Mrs. Rottweiler comes home

with Robbie by the ear.

“This son of yours has been bullying the other puppies,” she shouts at Mr.

Rottweiler. “The Headmistress brought me in and gave me a talking to. I’ve

never been so humiliated in all my life. And it’s all your fault. It’s your bad

example.”

“Well?” I say to Mr. Rottweiler.

He clears a growl from his throat.

“Robbie,” he says, “I won’t stand for bullying. Do you hear? Get into the

house.”

He goes to follow Robbie inside. I stop him.

“If,” I say, “I find out that you have bullied Robbie, my friends here, Sean

and Seamus will be round to see you.”

He tries to stare me down, but he drops his eyes first and goes in followed

by Mrs. Rottweiler.

I go home thinking maybe Toto can find a way to help Chuckie get his

confidence back.

CHUCKIE CHIHUAHUA GOES BACK TO SCHOOL. “Toto,” Mrs. Chihuahua said in desperation, “I really do not know what to

do. I can’t get little Chuckie to go back to school.

At Puppy School little Chuckie Chihuahua had been bullied by Robbie

Rottweiler. But now, since everybody had banded together, including Mr.


45

Rottweiler, to put a stop to it, Robbie was no longer bullying the younger

puppies and eating their lunches.

“Perhaps,” Toto said after due consideration, “it might be best to make an

appointment for Chuckie to see Dr. Sigmund Schnauzer, the Puppy

Psychiatrist.

“You really think so?”

Toto, who’d already talked it over with Basil Bloodhound, said:

“It’s up to you, Mrs. Chihuahua, but I think the good doctor might be able to

help.”

So Mrs. Chihuahua took Chuckie to see Dr. Sigmund Schnauzer.

But when she did, it was not at all like she thought it would be.

Dr. Schnauzer did not want to see Chuckie right away; he wanted to talk with

Mrs. Chihuahua.

And such questions he asked her.

Was she always on at Chuckie to tidy his room?

Of course she was, because Chuckie was an untidy little tyke.

Did she ever call him names? Ever tell him he was lazy?

Of course she had, because that’s what he was.

Did she ever think that calling Chuckie names made him feel bad about

himself?

Well, it had never made her feel bad about herself when her Momma had

called her lazy or an untidy little tyke.

Did Chuckie ever get angry?


46

Yes, but she had soon put a stop to that.

Did Chuckie express any opinions?

What opinions could a puppy like Chuckie have?

Did she ever allow Chuckie to stand up to her?

Never.

Did Chuckie have brothers or sisters?

He had once, but they had been taken away and she had been left with

Chuckie.

What about friends?

He had made some at school, but Robbie Rottweiler had scared them off.

Did she ever teach Chuckie to say things like “I like to do this,” and “I don’t

like to do that”?

That would only teach him to be selfish.

When Dr. Schnauzer examined Chuckie he found a little puppy who was

afraid to express himself and who crawled about as if he wanted to disappear

from off the face of the earth.

“Will you be able to get him to go back to school, doctor?” Mrs. Chihuahua

asked anxiously.

“That will be mainly up to you, Frau Chihuahua.”

“But you’re the doctor.”

“And you are the mother. Unless your behaviour changes, Chuckie will

remain the victim of bullies.”

“I’ve done my best.”


47

“You have done what you sincerely believed to be your best,” said Dr.

Schnauzer not unkindly. “But now, with my help you will really begin to do

your best for little Chuckie.

It took weeks before Chuckie Chihuahua was able to walk confidently through

the gates of Puppy School.

All the teachers were pleased to see him, and his friends once again came

crowding round and invited him to play in their games. Even Robbie

Rottweiler who was the goalkeeper could not stop Chuckie from heading

home the winning goal into the corner of the net.

“Good goal, Chuckie,” he called with a grin. Life was much more pleasant for

Robbie now that he was not hated or feared.

“A vast improvement,” Toto said to Mrs. Chihuahua.

“Dr. Schnauzer taught me a few things. Told me that I was to believe what the

human beings believed, that if God looked after the sparrows he’d look after

Chuckie. ”

And she told Toto that she had learned not to be so anxious about Chuckie.

She’d also learned ways to increase Chuckie’s self respect, and ways to allow

him to express dissatisfaction and anger, and how to walk tall, well as tall as a

Chihuahua can walk, and look the world right in the eye.

She was encouraging him to visit and to bring home his friends, because with

good friends he would not attract bullies, and she was teaching him to express

himself according to his likes and dislikes.

“Yes, a vast improvement all round,” Toto said.


48

TOMMY’S TREASURE

Tommy did not know that when he took his hard-earned money to Mrs.

Calvert’s shop he was going to be robbed.

He had earned his money by wheeling barrowfuls of topsoil from the edge of

Orangegrove woods to his Granny’s garden.

This was no mean distance; more than a few hundred yards, and for this

toiling in the summer sun, Granny promised to give him two pennies for each

barrowful.

These were the days when money was counted in pounds, shillings, and

pence, when four farthings made one penny as did two half-pennies, and

twelve pennies made one shilling which could also be made up of four three

penny pieces or two sixpences. A florin was two shillings, and half a crown

was two shillings and six pence. In a pound there could be twenty shillings or

ten florins, or eight half crowns.

Now, although Granny had promised Tommy two pennies for each barrowful,

when he told her that he was going to stop when he reached two shillings and

sixpence worth of labour, she saw that that amount of soil would not be

enough for her purposes of banking up her flower beds, and told him that she

had had a reversal in her cash flow and could only now pay him one penny

per barrowful.

Tommy had toiled on to reach his goal and finally with an aching back and

tired arms he took his half crown to Mrs. Calvert’s shop.


49

Mrs. Calvert’s shop was a Post Office, a grocer’s, a newsagent’s, and it also

sold toys, and for weeks Tommy had set his heart upon buying a Dinky car

model of an American Oldsmobile. It was blue and had sleek fins.

He told Mrs. Calvert what he wanted and how he had earned the money.

“Well, good for you, Tommy,” she said, and sold him the Oldsmobile.

Tommy took it out of the box as soon as he was outside, and making engine

noises, ran with it towards home. He had three streets and three corners to turn

before he reached there.

He turned into the second street in which there was a brick Air-Raid Shelter

with a concrete roof, which was to protect people in the event of the Germans

bombing the City.

Just as he was passing the central entrance to the shelter five boys stepped out

from it and blocked his way. The leader was tough looking.

“What’s in your hand?” he demanded, roughly.

They were all bigger than Tommy who didn’t like the way they closed in

around him. He showed his fear and they grabbed him and flung him to the

ground, and took away his Oldsmobile. They searched his pockets for money.

Finding none, they ran off with Tommy’s heart’s desire.

Trembling with fear and anger, he watched them go, and when he reached

home he was sobbing his heart out.

He poured all his feelings out to his Mum, telling her what happened.

“They took my Oldsmobile,” he wailed.

“Hush now, Tommy,” his Mum said. “Just thank God you weren’t hurt.”


50

“I worked so hard for it, and they took it.”

“Maybe the Police will get it back for you.”

“You think they will?” Tommy sniffed through his tears, hopefully.

At the Police Station , the Sergeant asked him to describe the stolen car.

“It’s an American Oldsmobile. It’s blue and it has sleek fins at the back. It’s

about two inches long.”

“A big car,” the Sergeant said. “Now, tell me about the boys who stole it.”

Tommy described them as best he could.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get it back for me?”

“We’ll try, but I won’t promise you anything.”

“Please try,” Tommy said.

On the way home Tommy’s Mum said, “That little toy was like a piece of

treasure to you, Tommy.”

Tommy supposed so but said nothing.

“Trouble is,” his Mum went on, “once we begin to gather up that kind of

treasure on earth we have to start thinking about locks on doors and policemen

to keep the thieves from taking it all.”

Tommy thought if he had kept the Oldsmobile in his pocket the thieves

wouldn’t have seen it and wouldn’t have taken it.

“Another thing about treasure like that,” his Mum said. “If you want to give it

away you can only do that once, and you no longer have it.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to give my Oldsmobile away.”

“But then you’d only have had it for yourself.”


51

“I’d have let Sam and Billy and Trevor play with it.”

“That’s good, but if it got lost or broken, you couldn’t play with it any more.

Look at how many real cars end up rusting on the scrap heap.”

“Does all treasure go rusty like that?”

“Some people treasure their clothes, but sooner or later the moths get to

them.”

“Is that why Granny uses mothballs?”

“Yes, but there are other treasures that won’t fade or rust or be eaten by

moths. Treasures you can give away time after time and still have for

yourself.”

“What are they?”

“Two of the best are knowledge and wisdom. All the things of this earth will

rust and become dust, but there is another world within you, deep down in

your heart, and if you fill that world with love, and joy, and peace and

knowledge and wisdom, you can share it with others and you will have it not

only now but throughout eternity.”

Tommy’s Mum hoped he would understand, and in a way he did, for the

feeling of loss for his stolen Oldsmobile did not lie so heavily on his heart.

Before going to sleep that night, Tommy and his Mum prayed that God would

help the boys who were thieves not to be thieves any longer.

“And,” added Tommy, “help Granny to keep her word for if she had I would

have had my Oldsmobile earlier and I wouldn’t have met the boys who took

it.”


52

TOTO ON TRIAL. Two guard dogs brought a shivering Toto up from the underground cells

and stood him in the dock.

From the Bench, Lord Justice Ronald Raven regarded him with beady

eyes as the charge was read.

“Toto the Cairn, you are charged with the serious offence that you did, on

the tenth of March, worry one of Farmer Fred’s sheep, namely Sheila. How do

you plead? Guilty or not guilty?”

Toto’s mouth was so dry that he found it difficult to reply.

“Answer,” growled one of the guard dogs.

Toto stammered out, “Not gggguilty.”

“Not guilty his Lordship,” prompted the other guard dog.

“Not gggguilty his Lordship,” repeated Toto.

“No, no, no,” said the exasperated first guard dog. “It’s not his Lordship,

it’s your Lordship.”

“Mine?” said Toto. “My Lord has a ship. Can I sail away in my Lord’s

ship?”

“Enough of this nonsense,” said the Beak on the Bench. “The Jury has

been chosen. Proceed with the trial.”

“A grey wolf rose from the Prosecution’s table.

“My Lord, and Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury,” he began. (Without

exception the Jury were all goats, some with beards.) “The Prosecution will


53

show beyond all reasonable doubt, indeed beyond all shadow of doubt that the

defendant, Toto the Cairn, did willfully worry Sheila the sheep as she grazed

peacefully in one of Farmer Fred’s fields.”

Toto in a quivering voice interrupted. “I didn’t even make Sheila anxious

let alone worry her. We were friends. It was him, the big bad wolf, and he

pointed a forepaw at the Prosecutor.

“You must remain quiet,” Ronald Raven said. “Your advocate will have

the opportunity to state your case when the time comes. Interrupt in this

manner again and I will hold you in contempt of court. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Toto.

“Yes my Lord,” prompted the second guard.

“Yes his Lord,” said Toto.

“Let’s not start that again,” said the Beak on the Bench. “Proceed.”

“Billys and Nannys, I mean Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury,” the grey

wolf went on, “you must not be deceived by Toto the Cairn. Not by his

smallness of stature, not by his angelic look. He would appear to be harmless

but he is in fact a ravening lion seeking whom he can devour, and I intend to

prove that if Shep the sheepdog had not come along he would have devoured

Sheila the sheep.”

Toto looked to the table of the Defense. Unlike that of the Prosecution,

which was coming down with papers and files, it was bare and no one sat in

the two chairs behind it.


54

With a terrible sinking feeling Toto realized that he had no advocate in

this court.

“I call my first witness,” said the Prosecutor. “Shep, Farmer Fred’s

sheepdog.

Shep was sworn in

“Now, Shep,” said the wolf, “tell us what you saw on the tenth of March.”

“I saw Toto the Cairn worrying Sheila the sheep.”

“Tell the court the nature of this worrying.”

“Sheila was lying on her side, badly wounded and Toto the Cairn was

there with blood all over his nose. It was quite obvious that he had worried

Sheila the sheep.”

“What subsequently happened to Sheila the sheep?”

“She died of her wounds. That of course was a great loss to Farmer Fred

who wasn’t able to sell her as an accompaniment to mint sauce.”

“Thank you. Your witness.”

Toto, all set to fight his own case, was stopped by the Beak on the Bench.

“No you must have an advocate.”

“I haven’t got one.”

“Too bad,” said Ronald Raven. “Call your next witness, Mr. Prosecutor.”

“Don’t I get to cross examine this witness?”

“To do so you must have an advocate.”

“But Shep didn’t see what happened,” Toto said.

“Quiet!”


55

“He didn’t see me chase away the big bad wolf.”

At this there was uproar of laughter in the court.

“It’s true, it’s true. I was trying to stop the bleeding,” insisted Toto. “Oh,

how I wish I had my master Tommy’s advocate here to tell the truth for me.”

“Well, you haven’t,” said the Prosecutor and he called witness after

witness to testify that Toto the Cairn had worried Sheila the Sheep.

The Jury brought in a verdict of “Guilty”, and the Judge sentenced Toto to

life imprisonment.

Toto was taken to a dark, dank, prison cell where he lay alone and

whimpering until fitful sleep overtook him.

Frivel, the Old English Sheep Dog, found Toto lying in the darkness of the

garden shed where he had fallen asleep earlier in the day. She woke the little

dog up.

“You were having a bad dream,” she said.

“Terrible, said Toto. “I was condemned to life imprisonment for worrying

Sheila the sheep, and I had no advocate, like Tommy has, to tell the truth for

me.”

“Fortunately we don’t need one,” Frivel said.

“My dream must have come about because of Tommy telling me about his

advocate who will speak for him when he dies and God judges his behaviour.”

“Has he a good advocate?”

“He says he’s the best.”

“That’s good for him,” Frivel said.


56

ALL THINGS NEW.

“Tree does not look at all happy today,” Toto the Cairn terrier said to

Frivel, Honeybunch, and Basil the Bloodhound.

Frivel looked and said that indeed Tree’s branches and leaves were

drooping.

“What is the matter, Tree?” asked Honeybunch, moving closer to Tree’s

bole.

For once Tree did not answer immediately.

“Tree seems to be preoccupied,” Toto said. “I hope Tree is not ailing with

some disease.”

“Perhaps Tree is just very deep in thought,” said Basil the Bloodhound.

“That could be it,” Frivel said. “We all know Tree is a very deep thinker.

“I have seen him deep in thought,” Toto said, “but his deep thinking

before this has never caused his branches to droop and his leaves to look as if

they were about to fall off.”

“Tree,” said Basil, “Can you hear us? Whatever is the matter?”

Tree could hear them, of course. In fact he blessed them silently for their

concern, but his heart was so sad that only the most gigantic of sighs would

clear it and allow him to answer his friends.

He was working towards that great sigh, but it was as yet a long way off.

His sap had sunk to his roots and that was why his leaves were dry and his

branches drooped.


57

Was it only yesterday that the South West Wind had brought him the news

of Maurice Mahogany? Of all the trees in the world Maurice Mahogany was

Tree’s special friend.

Long ago, Tree had asked the South West Wind to find him someone he

could talk with in the Amazon rainforest of Brazil. South West Wind had

found him Maurice Mahogany who at that time had been just a sapling.

Over the years their friendship had flourished and they told each other

about the environments in which they lived and of the lives they led.

Tree learned about the green, blue-eyed tree frogs who lived in the canopy

of the forest where Maurice lived. He enjoyed hearing about all the other

different types of trees including the ones that produced Brazil nuts. He also

learned that there were as many as six million species of insect in the Amazon

and many of these lived in co-operation with Maurice on his bole, branches,

and leaves. All these curious and beautiful trees were surrounded by and

entwined in climbing plants of scarlet, blue, and yellow.

Tree grew to love Maurice Mahogany as if he were his son, and Maurice

grew sturdy and loved Tree as a father. Maurice kept Tree informed about his

family of young saplings shooting up all around him, and it did Tree’s heart

good to hear about Maurice’s family growing up undisturbed and at peace in

the rainforest.

But then, about a year ago, South West Wind brought news that unsettled

Tree’s mind.


58

Men, greedy for money, had moved into the rainforest, forcing out the

Indians who lived there and who were good in looking after God’s trees and

animals and all His other creatures.

These good people had been forced to flee from their villages. The greedy

people who cared nothing about the land, the animals, the insects, and tree

frogs or for Maurice Mahogany came in with chain saws and bulldozers and

began to cut down all the trees.

“What about Maurice?” Tree kept asking South West Wind.

“He and his family still stand,” South West Wind kept telling him until the

day South West Wind said, “I’m sorry, Tree, but Maurice Mahogany and his

family have been felled and have been floated down the river Amazon to a

saw mill where they were made into planks.

“And what of his seed?” Tree asked. “Is his seed growing again?”

“Unfortunately the ground where Maurice’s seed should have grown has

been burned and has been rented to men and women who are raising cattle

and buffalo. No trees grow there now.”

This was the news that caused Tree’s sap to sink to his roots, his branches

to droop, and his leaves to dry up. He had lost Maurice Mahogany and felt he

could not be consoled.

But then the Spirit of the Tree that had stood in God’s original garden

stirred him to take that gigantic sigh.

“Look,” said Honeybunch, “his leaves are shaking.”

“His branches are straightening,” said Frivel.


59

“Tree,” said Toto, “tell us what is troubling you.”

And so Tree told them what had happened to Maurice Mahogany. When

he had finished it was Basil the Bloodhound who spoke.

“It is sad indeed that poor Maurice should end in this way, but according

to my master who is a Minister of Jesus, the Son of God who made Maurice

Mahogany in the first place, all will be well.”

“Of course,” said Tree, perking up. I should not have forgotten what has

been passed down to me from my ancestor.”

“What does he mean?” asked Honeybunch.

“He means,” said Basil, “That even though we die we shall be renewed for

Jesus when he comes again will make all things new and nothing like what

happened to Maurice Mahogany will ever happen again.”

“But what about those greedy men who felled Maurice?” asked Toto.

“I feel sorry for them,” said Tree, “for if they do not stop spoiling God’s

world, and ask His forgiveness in Jesus’ name, they will not live to share in

His new creation.

So, although Tree felt sad about what had happened to Maurice Mahogany

in this world he knew he would live with him in the next when all things were

made new.

A CAROL FOR MR. ADGEE.

“If it wasn’t for him,” Mrs. Adgee told Tommy’s Mum, “The carol singers

would come round and I could enjoy listening to their voices singing my

favourite carols.”


60

‘Him’ was Mr. Adgee, who was so disagreeable and grumpy that people,

who came to visit, or pass the time of day, and to talk things over, did not stay

long in his company, and only came once to the Adgee house.

Which made it difficult for Mrs. Adgee, who liked to have people call, and

who liked to go calling on people. But she could only do this when Mr. Adgee

was away from home because he was the sort of man who liked to stay home

and had no use for going to other people’s houses or having other people call

on him.

He was a poor man who hung tightly onto what little he had and

begrudged any expense whatsoever.

This mad Mrs. Adgee feel very lonely, and she came to call upon

Tommy’s Mum whenever it was possible.

“Maybe the carol singers will call with you this year,” said Tommy’s

Mum.

“After the dressing down they got from him last year, I doubt it,” said

Mrs. Adgee.

“I’ll send them on from here to you,” said Tommy’s Mum.

“They won’t come,” said Mrs. Adgee, gloomily.

Mrs. Adgee was showing Tommy’s Mum how to make wheaten bread on

the griddle, so they went on doing that and talked of other things.

Mrs. Adgee had gone home by the time Tommy came back from school.

His father who was working in one of the fields saw him coming along the

long lane.


61

He could see that something was wrong. Tommy usually ran along the

lane, singing, and if he saw his father in the fields he would call out and wave

to him and Dad would wave back.

But today Tommy was not singing. He was dragging his feet and his head

was down. In fact he walked right past his father without seeing him. His

father had to call out to him – twice – to attract his attention. Tommy came

into the field.

“What is it, Tommy?” Dad could see that Tommy was near to tears.

“Mr. Graham says I can’t sing,” Tommy said.

“Of course you can sing,” Dad said. “Have I not heard you myself,

singing?”

“He says I should never open my mouth to sing, He says I’m flat when I

should be sharp, and sharp when I should be natural, and as far as carrying a

tune is concerned, he says I can’t even lift one. He says I have to stand in the

‘unwanted chorus’ and open my mouth only to mime the words.”

Each year, at Christmas, the school Tommy attended put on one of Gilbert

and Sullivan’s Savoy Operas. This year it was the Mikado.

“Mr. Graham is wrong,” Dad said. “You can sing because your Heavenly

Father gave you and everyone else a voice, not to please Mr. Graham, but to

glorify and to sing God’s praises. You sing well on Sundays. I hear you and I

know you are in tune. You have a good voice.”

“I don’t want to be unwanted,” Tommy, said.


62

“You are wanted, Tommy. Believe me, in Heaven there is no ‘unwanted

chorus’.”

Tommy felt much more cheerful.

That evening Tommy’s Mum told them about Mrs. Adgee being lonely

and really wanting to hear her favourite Christmas carols.

“We must make sure that the carol singers go to the Adgees,” said

Tommy’s Dad.

But when the carol singers came round, and had sung their carols for

Tommy’s family, and were asked to go to the Adgees, they made excuses and

did not go.

“Such a pity,” said Tommy’s Mum.

“There’s only one thing to do,” said Dad. “We will sing for the Adgees.”

“But, Dad,” said Tommy. “Mr. Adgee will shout at us and wave his stick.”

“We will pray before we go that he will not do that, and that God will

open his ears,” said Dad, taking down his violin.

With Dad playing the violin, they stood outside the Adgee household and

sang what they knew to be Mrs. Adgee’s favourite carols: Silent Night. The

First Noel. The Holly and the Ivy, and Away in a Manger.

Throughout the Adgee’s door had remained closed and when they stopped

singing they waited awhile hoping the door would open. But it did not.

“Well,” said Dad. “We’ve sung. I suppose we’d better go.”

Just as he and Mum turned away Tommy’s unaccompanied voice sang out

in the crisp evening under a multitude of twinkling stars.


63

“In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan…”

Tommy’s rendition was tone perfect, and when he sang the last verse: ”What can I give him, Poor as I am? If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb; If I were a wise man I would do my part; Yet what can I give him? - Give my heart.”

The bars on the door were pulled back and Mr. Adgee appeared. He came out onto the stoop and in the light of the lantern held by Mum, he looked fierce, but he had not got his stick.

He came towards Tommy. Tommy’s Dad took a protective step forward,

but was halted by Mr. Adgee’s words.

“Thank you, sonny. That was lovely. I never heard the like.”

“Why don’t you sing, Mr. Agee,” Tommy said. “Didn’t God give you a

voice, same as us?”

“It’s so long since I sung anything,” Mr. Adgee said. “Come in. Come in.”

Mrs. Adgee made them tea and gave them scones, and Dad talked with Mr

Adgee about Jesus and why He had come into the world.

AN EXTRA PLACE. “Barbara,” asked Tommy. “When your Mum sets the table at mealtimes,

does she set an extra place?”

“No,” Barbara replied. “Why should she do that?”

“In case someone knocks on the door and is in need of shelter and

something to eat.”


64

“Does your Mum set an extra place?”

“She does, ever since the time we lived in the country.”

“But you don’t know who might knock on your door. They might be

smelly.” Barbara wrinkled her pretty nose. “And they might steal,” she added.

Tommy, although at times he thought something similar did not say

anything because, according to his Dad, the person at the door, seeking

entrance, might well be an angel, and even if the person was simply an

ordinary human being, to give such a person food and shelter and good

conversation was the same as giving food, shelter and conversation to the

Lord Jesus.

“After all,” Dad had said, “God loved smelly people and thieves enough to

die for them.”

“It was at Christmas time,” Tommy said, deciding to tell Barbara how it

came about that his Mum always set an extra place at the table.

Gertie the Goose had been spared from the oven that year because she was

laying good eggs and would continue to do so for some time.

Instead Hilda Hen had been plucked, singed, cleaned, stuffed, and was

browning nicely in the oven. Hilda had stopped laying eggs some time ago

and was now serving the family in another way. While Hilda roasted, Mum

set the table.

Dad came in from the cold, crisp sunlit day. Pure white snow law upon the

ground and formed sleeves along the stark branches of the leafless trees.


65

Tommy sat in front of the fire reading the Annual he had got as a

Christmas present. He looked up and he and Dad smiled at each other.

“All the animals fed,” said Dad. “Even Nora Nannygoat is in a good mood

this Christmas Day.”

He cast an eye over the table with its clean white cloth, and its gleaming

cutlery and sparkling glasses.

“Are we expecting company?” he asked.

“I was moved to set an extra place,” Mum said.

“Then let it be so,” Dad said.

There was still only the three of them when they sat down to dinner.

“Lord, we are thankful for all your grace, mercy and loving kindness to us

this past year and on this day. We ask you to lay a blessing upon us each

according to his or her needs, and Thy will. We are thankful for the food and

shelter you have provided for us in Jesus name. Amen.” This was the Grace

Dad spoke. He carved the hen and Mum doled out the sprouts, potatoes, and

peas.

They had hardly begun to eat when there was a knock at the door. Dad got

up and lifted the latch and opened it. Tommy and his Mum heard a voice from

outside saying, “Might I come in? My name is Alan Townsley.”

“Come in Mr. Townsley,” invited Dad.

It was a young man who entered. He wore a Royal Air Force uniform and

he stood looking around him.

“You have restored it,” he said. “It is almost as I remember it.”


66

“Come, join us in our meal,” Mum said. “There is enough for all.”

“Thank you,” said Alan Townsley sitting down where the extra place had

been set.

“Townsley,” said Dad. “People of that name once lived her.”

“And died here. My parents.” Alan said. “I was born in this house.”

“It is a shame that young men like you have to risk their lives in warfare,”

Mum said. At that time the war was at its height and there was a battle for

Britain. “We thank you for taking that risk. I hope Tommy never has to do so.

Are you on leave?”

“I thought I would come here before I went home,” Alan said. “You don’t

mind if I wait awhile.”

“Not at all,” Dad said.

The young pilot stayed into the evening when the lamps were lit. There

was good talk of Christ and Christmas, and then Dad, Tommy and Alan

tended the animals again before coming back to the front door of the house.

“I will leave soon,” Alan said.

“The moon and stars are out,” Dad said. “Look!”

Tommy looked up and saw in the sky two shooting stars tailing towards

Earth.

“You must stay here tonight,” Dad said.

“I would like to, but I cannot. I am going home now,” Alan said.

They went inside and before long there was another knock at the door.

Dad opened it. This time a man and woman came in.


67

“Dad, Mum,” Alan said. He embraced both in turn.

Tommy’s Dad’s hair stood on end at the back of his neck. He took hold of

his wife’s hand and that of his son.”

“Be not afraid,” Mrs. Townsley said, smiling. “We have come to take

Alan home to be with the Lord.”

“Thank you for your hospitality to him, this day,” Mr. Townsley said.

“And I too, thank you,” Alan said. “Someday we will enjoy each other’s

company in heaven, and then on the new Earth.”

He shook Tommy’s Dad’s hand, kissed Tommy’s Mum on the cheek, and

hugged Tommy. “Now I must go,” he said.

They accompanied the Townsleys outside and watched them until they

had disappeared from view along the lane in the moonlight.

As they walked back to the house, they saw three comets shooting away

from Earth.”

Tommy waved. “Are those people dead, then?” he asked.

“No,” Dad explained. “They are alive because, while they lived in this life,

they believed in Jesus. Alan must have been killed in the war.”

“That’s scary,” Barbara said. “Did you not feel scared?”

“At first I was,” Tommy said, “but then when I asked Mum and Dad if

they would come like that for me someday, and they said they would, I didn’t

feel scared any more.”


68

BASIL BLOODHOUND AND THE BANK OF BONES ROBBERY. “Basil, you’ve got to help us because we are baffled. This is the crime of

the century.”

I am at home in the garden of the Manse. I am content. I am at peace. I

wish to remain content and at peace. I do not wish to be disturbed. There is a

rich meaty bone between my paws and I want to go on gnawing it without

interruption.

It is not unusual that when the C.F.P.S, the Canine and Feline Police

Service get into difficulties and are getting nowhere with one of their

investigations, they come to me for assistance. I am a part-time Private

Investigator who, as time goes by, wishes to become more and more the

pampered pet.

This time, the C.F.P.S, has come in the person of Chief Inspector Billy

Bulldog. Just as my master, the Minister, has a duty to his Lord Jesus, and

must help human beings in difficulties; I too have a duty to my fellow

animals. This is why I say:

“I take it you are referring to the robbery at the Bank of Bones,

Inspector?”

“I am,” he says.

“I suppose you had better tell me about it? Would you like to share my

bone?”

“Not while I’m on duty,” he says, and then goes on: “It was daylight

robbery. Planned to the last detail. Not only robbery but kidnapping as well.


69

They took and held captive the families of Paul Poodle and Simon Springer

the Bank’s two Chief Executives, thus forcing them to open the vault and

carry the bones to the side door of the Bank, leaving them inside but making

sure the door was open. It took them all day to take every bone in the Bank.”

“They saw the thieves then?”

“No. Each time they brought bones to the door they had to go back to their

offices and phone the thieves that another consignment was ready for

collection. All arrangements were conducted by phone.”

They heard their barks, then?”

“They used the family members to issue their instructions.”

“The families would know then what kind of dogs these thieves were.”

“They didn’t see. They were taken from behind and hooded.”

“They would know them by smell?”

“I should have asked,” says Chief Inspector Billy Bulldog.

“Leave that to me,” I say.

I gave him my bone to gnaw on.

I went first to the Bank of Bones taking Toto, my friend, the little Cairn

terrier. On the way he says, “A Bank for Bones is a stupid idea. I never

deposited any of my bones there.”

“No more did I,” I say. “Human beings have banks where they keep their

money. The banks invest this money and give their customers a small return,

but keep the greater profits of their investments for themselves. These human

banks lend money at interest, getting back a lot more than they loan. My


70

master, the Minister, calls this usury and says it is against the word and will of

God. He says that God wishes money to be used like manna, which was what

God provided each day to keep his chosen people alive in the desert. It could

only be eaten on the day of provision. If saved and kept until the next day it

went rotten. Money, he says, if kept for too long becomes rotten and useless

for God’s purposes. It must be the same with bones.”

“Honeybunch is desolate,” Toto says. “She lost all her bones in this

robbery. She always complained that the bones she got out were not as large

as the ones she put in, but when she made a withdrawal she got a small

helping of nourishing marrowbone jelly.”

The trail is cold. Paul Poodle and Simon Springer add nothing to my

knowledge, and neither do the security dogs who although they saw the two

executives bringing the bones from the vault and leave them at the door,

thought nothing of it. They took it that their bosses knew what they were

doing.

When we speak to the wives of Paul and Simon I ask them about the smell

of their captors.

“They smelt of smoke,” they both say. “Wood smoke.”

“Where do you think you were taken and held?” I ask.

“Somewhere in the woods.”

“Thank you,” I say. “You’ve been most helpful.”

Toto follows me as I leave.

“Where to now?” he asks.


71

“Where do you think?” I ask to test him.

“To the woods,” he says.

“In search of what?”

“Smokey dogs. I think I know where to find them,” he says.

“The gypsy camp where you were held by Big Tim,” I say.

We go into Orangegrove woods and follow the trail to the gypsy camp

where there are a number of wood fires burning. A pack of whippets is roving

about.

We see Big Tim, the Chief of the Gypsies, a rough looking character with

a red bandana around his neck, wearing a collarless shirt and corduroy

trousers and gaiters.

Big Tim is talking to another man wearing a suit and a bowler hat. The

man hands Big Tim a wad of money and then gets into a large blue van that I

recognize belongs to the glue factory.

Glue is made from bones and I reckon that all the boners from the Bank of

Bones robbery will soon be at the glue factory.

By the time I tell Chief Inspector Billy Bulldog about this the bones are

glue and but for three of the whippets wanting to be saved from the clutches

of Big Tim, there would have been no evidence to convict Big Tim’s whippets

of kidnapping and robbery.

I thank Toto for his help.

“Tell me Toto,” I say. “How many of your bones have you ever dug up

again?”


72

“Only one,” he says. “It tasted awful.”

“And did you ever want for a bone?”

“No,” he says.

“Nor did I,” I say. “It’s better to eat and share our bones on the day.”

THE RETURN OF BIG TIM. In the springtime Big Tim and his gypsies came back to Orangefield

woods.

“Just thought you’d like to know,” said Basil the Bloodhound who brought

this news to the cats and dogs in Tommy’s garden.

It was such a nice day and they were sitting among the snowdrops,

crocuses, and daffodils at the foot of Tree enjoying the pleasure of a gentle

breeze.

Clancy, one of the two tabby cats, became very pale, and began to talk

back to front again as he had done before Big Tim and the gypsies had

departed.

“Gy moodness!” he cried, “Tig Bim will bant us wack.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Toto the Cairn terrier.

“I couldn’t say that,” said Honeybunch, an Old English Sheepdog.”

“Anyway,” said Frivel, the other Old English sheepdog. “How will he find

you?”

“Somehow,” said Nancy, the other tabby cat. “Big Tim doesn’t like to lose

anything that was his.”

“Oooh!” wailed Clancy.


73

“Pull yourself together, Clancy,” Nancy said. “Whatever happens we will

not be going back to our former master.”

“He’ll tome and cake us,” stammered Clancy.

“Speak properly,” Nancy said sharply. “There is no reason why you

should not speak properly. We have a new life here and here we will stay.”

“If only we knew what Big Tim was doing,” said Honeybunch.

“Tree,” said Toto. “Do you know what Big Tim is doing now?”

“Of course,” said Tree who once had an ancestor that had flourished in

another garden a very long time ago where it produced fruit that contained the

knowledge of what was good and what was evil. “The wind is telling me that

Big Tim is coming out of his caravan and he has a large sack in his hand. He

tells his wife: ‘I’m goin’ to get those two cats back. They’re mine and I mean

to have them for myself.’”

“Oooh!” said Clancy.

“He won’t be able to find you,” Toto said.

“He’s got a big sack,” said Clancy succeeding in talking properly. “I don’t

want to go back into a big sack.”

“There’s only one thing for it,” said Honeybunch, “you two cats will have

to hide where Big Tim can not find you.”

“But where?” asked Clancy.

“It’s obvious,” said Honeybunch in a superior tone. “In the topmost

branches of Tree. You won’t mind, Tree, will you?”


74

“Of course not,” said Tree, “but you will have to hurry because Big Tim is

on his way here.”

“How does he know to come here?” asked Toto.

“Blodger,” said Tree, “is showing him the way. Blodger met him in the

woods and after listening to Big Tim talking to himself about how he was

going to bag Nancy and Clancy, rubbed against Big Tim’s legs and then

trotted off with his tail high in the air.

“’Aren’t you the fine cat,’ says Big Tim. “Goin’ to show me where my

two runaways are, is that it?’

“Blodger stops, looks over his shoulder and gives Big Tim a look that

says, ‘You’re durned tootin’ I am.’”

“Up! Up! Into Tree,” said Toto. “We’ll all stay here and stop him if he

tries to climb up. Basil, you go for the Rottweiler family and for Sean and

Seamus the Irish Wolfhounds.”

Basil was about to start out when Tree said, “There isn’t time to do that.”

“Oh dear,” said Basil watching Nancy and Clancy reach the top of Tree’s

branches where they sat swaying and holding on tight. “All we can do is pray,

and growl as fiercely as we can.”

“Clancy and I want to thank you for what you are doing,” Nancy called

down.

“We’re family,” said Toto. “It’s what we’re meant to do.”

“Big Tim is at the front door with Blodger,” said Tree, and they hear the

chimes ring.


75

“Why did Blodger do this?” asked Frivel.

“Because Nancy and Clancy would not let him kill Mrs. Blackbird,” said

Tree.

“How mean,” said Frivel. “What’s happening now?”

“Tommy’s Mum has opened the door,” said Tree.

“’Yes,’ she says. ‘What is it?’

“’Well now, lady,’ says Big Tim, ‘it has come to my knowledge that you

have a couple of tabby cats belongin’ to me.’

“’And who are you?’

“’I’m Big Tim. You might call me King of the Gypsies.’

“’I’ll call you no such thing. No good king would treat his cats so cruelly

and neglectfully as you have done. I fed them and built them up and tended

them when they were not all that well,’ says Tommy’s Mum. “They belong to

us now.”

“’By rights they belong to me,” says Big Tim. “And I have come for what

is my own.’

“They were yours,” says Tommy’s Mum. ‘Nevertheless, I will pay your

price for them.’

“Of course,” said Tree “this is what Big Tim has been after all along. He

doesn’t love Nancy and Clancy. He only loves himself and with money he can

treat himself to whatever the money will buy.

“He’s now considering with a sly grin on his face.


76

“Ten pounds,” says he (In those days that was a lot of money).”Take it or

leave it.”

“’Very well, wait here,’ says Tommy’s Mum. She closes the door and

goes inside.

“Big Tim is waiting at the door. The door opens again. Tommy’s Mum

has a bill of sale and a pen in her hand as well as two of the big white five-

pound notes they used in those days.

“’Can you read and write?’ asks Tommy’s Mum.

“’I can, that’s why I’m King of the Gypsies.’

“’Then read this and sign it,’ says Tommy’s Mum. ‘When you do you’ll

get your money.’

“He’s grumbling,” Tree says, “but he’s signing. He takes his money. He

goes off followed by Blodger, who goes into the sack just as soon as they

round the corner.”

“Does that mean Nancy and Clancy are saved?”

“Yes,” said Tree. “They are bought and paid for.

BLODGER IN THE BAG. Blodger, the black cat walked with his tail up away from the front door of

Tommy’s house in front of Big Tim.

Now that Big Tim had two big white five pound notes in his hip pocket

which Tommy’s mother had given him for those two mangy Tabbies, Nancy

and Clancy, Blodger was sure that Big Tim would reward him for leading him


77

to where the two Tabbies were living. Some tit-bit, perhaps a piece of cheese.

That would be nice.

Blodger certainly was not expecting to be grabbed roughly by the scruff of

the neck and thrust into the dark, dank, and dusty interior of the sack Big Tim

carried.

Blodger spat, and squirmed, and struggled, but all to no avail for Big Tim

held the neck of the sack closed in a large fist.

After a while Blodger stopped struggling.

“I don’t deserve this,” he told himself. “You’d think the King of the

Gypsies would show more gratitude. I help him, and what do I get? Shoved in

this sack is what I get. It’s dark and it stinks and I hate being in the dark. It

scares me. Oh how I wish I were in the light again. It’s all the fault of those

two Tabbies that I’m here.”

It never struck Blodger that if he had not chosen to get involved with Big

Tim and chosen to lead him to Nancy and Clancy he would still be free to

roam the streets, the gardens and the woods.

In other words, had he not been consumed by envy and an enmity towards

Nancy and Clancy he would not be as fearfully miserable as he was in this the

dark sack.

Where was he going? What would happen to him? He shuddered to think.

Big Tim brought him to the Gypsy camp.

“So you got them, then,” said Big Tim’s wife, Little Bertha.


78

“It’s not them,” said Big Tim. “But I got a big fat black one that’ll do just

as well, and he’ll only be one mouth to feed.”

“He’ll run away,” said Little Bertha.

“You can say that again,” thought Blodger.

“I’ll keep him caged until we leave here again, once we get to where we’re

goin’ we can sell him.”

Big Tim reached into the bag. Blodger tried to scratch him, but the King of

the Gypsies was too wily and Blodger was extracted by the scruff of the neck

and put into a wire cage, which was so small he had barely room to turn

about.

Blodger cried and cried until Big Tim, rattled the bars of his cage with a

stout stick and told him to ‘shut up’.

The wind told Tree, and Tree told Nancy and Clancy, what had happened

to Blodger and Nancy and Clancy told Toto, Frivel and Honeybunch.

“We must rescue him,” Clancy said.

“I don’t see why,” said Honeybunch. “He’s only an alley cat, an informer.

He told Big Tim where you were. He’s our enemy.

“If it was me in that cage,” said Clancy, “I’d want somebody to come and

get me out.”

“He only has himself to blame,” said Honeybunch. “Let him get himself

out.”

“He need’s help.”


79

“Let his friends help.”

“You know he has no friends,” said Clancy. “We have to help him.”

Clancy looked at Nancy.

“He won’t be able to get out by himself,” she said.

“Let’s help him,” said Toto, and Frivel nodded her head. Honeybunch

shook hers.

Blodger was curled up in his cramped prison, which Big Tim had hung on

a hook beneath his caravan. From time-to-time gypsy dogs came, sniffed

around, bared their teeth, snarled and barked. Blodger couldn’t arch his back

although his hair stood on end. He couldn’t rest and he felt really ill.

Darkness came, the gypsy dogs went to their beds and Blodger closed his

eyes hoping to sleep but no sooner had he done so than he heard his name

spoken in an urgent whisper.

“Blodger, it’s me, Clancy.”

Blodger came wide awake and saw four green eyes.

“And me, Toto. We’ve come to get you out of here.”

Blodger couldn’t believe it, but he saw them get to work, joined by Nancy.

They had to go about it softly for fear of waking the sleeping gypsy dogs, and

it was Toto, who, after a great deal of difficulty managed to push back the bar

and release a very stiff Blodger from the cage.

“All clear?” whispered Clancy.

“All clear,” replied Frivel.


80

“No! Wait!” whispered Honeybunch. A gypsy dog got up, turned round in

its bed, stretched, yawned, curled its tail and settled down again.

“All clear now,” whispered Honeybunch.

Nancy was the first to run towards the Old English Sheepdogs waiting in

the woods, then Blodger, then Toto.

Unfortunately Blodger was awkward and disturbed a tin basin that fell

with a resounding clatter. Blodger and Toto ran as fast as they could and

reached the trees.

The moon came out from behind a cloud, as Big Tim appeared at the door

of his caravan his stout stick in his hand.

Clancy shot out from beneath the caravan like a rocket. Big Tim set off in

pursuit of Clancy and Clancy led him in the opposite direction to which the

others were going.

A couple of times Big Tim’s stick came near to breaking Clancy’s back,

but something always renewed Clancy’s strength just as it was failing him.

When he could no longer hear the pounding of Big Tim’s feet he looked

over his shoulder and saw Big Tim bent over standing with his hand on his

knees, totally winded.

Clancy made his way back to Tommy’s garden where he found the others

with Blodger.

They gathered round so please to see him safe and sound.

“Why?” asked Blodger. “I wouldn’t have done that for you. I was your

enemy.”


81

“Are you still?”

“No,” said Blodger.

“That’s why,” said Clancy.

BIG TIM’S CHRISTMAS. “I don’t believe it,” said Honeybunch. “That could not have happened to

Big Tim.”

“I saw it happen with my own eyes, and heard everything with my own

ears,” said Basil Bloodhound.

“Basil is reliable,” said Frivel. “If he says it happened then it happened.”

Honeybunch, and Frivel, the two Old English Sheepdogs and Basil

Bloodhound had met up with Nancy and Clancy the two tabby cats, and Toto

the little Cairn terrier in Tommy’s garden.

“If that is what happened to Big Tim,” said Clancy without any sign of

nervousness at the mention of Big Tim’s name, “then I hope it is true.”

“It couldn’t happen to a more wicked man,” Nancy said. “I for one am

glad it happened.”

“And for it to happen to him at Christmas time,” Toto said. “Isn’t that just

the right thing?”

“Well all I can say is that I would rather have seen and heard it with my

own eyes and ears,” said Honeybunch. “I just find it hard to believe.”

“It would be a blessing,” said Frivel, “if you believed without having to

see. I trust that what Basil said was true.”


82

“We all do,” said Toto and Nancy and Clancy nodded their heads in

agreement.

“Oh, very well if you all think so,” said Honeybunch and went off on her

own to think about what Basil had told them about Big Tim’s Christmas.

Basil was the dog of the Manse, part family pet and part Private

Investigator. He liked going into his master’s church at Christmas to see the

tree all decked out with little twinkling lights and brightly coloured baubles

and tinsel.

He particularly liked laying quietly beside the little stable with the models

of Mary and Joseph and the Baby Jesus the cow and the donkey. He found

that whenever he fell asleep there he always had pleasant dreams.

He was there and he must have been dozing, but nevertheless he had one

ear cocked and with that he heard a noise at the back of the church.

He opened his eyes and saw a figure of a big man tip-toeing up the centre

aisle. When the man got to the Christmas tree Basil saw it was Big Tim, the

king of the gypsies.

He had a half-filled sack on his back and he moved to the cupboard where

the Minister kept the communion silverware.

Basil lay very still and did not growl right away. He knew Big Tim was

there to steal and he wanted to catch him red-handed.

Big Tim unslung the sack from his back and opened its neck, then turned

his attention to opening the cupboard doors. None of these were locked. Basil

heard Big Tim call his master a fool.


83

Big Tim took out the silverware and placed it piece-by-piece in his sack.

As the last piece went in Basil started a deep-throated growl, which never got

past his lips. Basil felt he had been struck dumb.

Then to his amazement he heard a voice saying, “Big Tim, come over here

please, and bring your sack with you.”

Big Tim jumped about a foot in the air and looked to where the voice

came from. He saw no one and began hastily to close the neck of the sack.

“Over here, Big Tim, if you please. Bring your sack into the stable and sit

on the stool beside my crib,” the voice said.

Big Tim took fright. He began to tremble. He glanced towards the back of

the church. He picked up the sack and began to run. When he got to the door

he found that Mary and Joseph were standing in his way and he could not get

out.

“My Son wants to speak to you, Big Tim,” Mary said.

She took Big Tim by the arm and walked with him to the stable where he

sat down on the stool beside the Baby Jesus.

Who sat up.

“Now, Big Tim,” said Baby Jesus. “You are up to your old tricks this year

again. A sack full of stolen goods.”

“It’s what I do to feed my family,” Big Tim said.

“Your family are not in serious danger of starvation, Big Tim. You know

that you must not steal. My Father in Heaven told you that.”

“Everybody steals one way or another,” Big Tim said.


84

“Those who believe in me,” said Baby Jesus, “do not steal. They keep my

commandments and love God and their neighbour as themselves and they do

to others as they would be done by. Tell me now, Big Tim, do you know why

I came into the world?”

“Yes. To save sinners and take away their sin.”

“Are you a sinner, Big Tim?”

“I suppose so.”

“I came to save you. Do you believe that?”

“I suppose so.”

“Do you want me to take over your life, Big Tim?”

“If you did I couldn’t do what I liked any more. I’d have to do what you

liked. My people would throw me out. I wouldn’t he king of the gypsies any

more. Where would I go? What would I do?”

“It would not be easy,” said Baby Jesus. “But I would be with you always,

and when you died you would be with me always.”

“That would be good,” said Big Tim. “I haven’t done anything so far to

please you, have I?”

“Nothing,” said Baby Jesus. “So far your life has been a disgrace.”

Basil’s eyes became rounder and rounder as he saw Big Tim get down on

his knees and ask the Baby Jesus to bless him and clean his black heart. After

that the Baby Jesus lay down in his crib again and Big Tim got up from his

knees and with tears in his eyes he put back all the silverware in the cupboard

and then he went out the way he came in.


85

Basil followed him as he went from house to house replacing from the

sack the items he had stolen.

For a while Big Tim disappeared from the gypsy camp in the woods, but

after Christmas he turned up at the Manse.

“Minister,” he said to Basil’s master. “I want you to take me through the

scriptures for I have to know how to behave the way Jesus wants me to.”

“Come in, Timothy,” said the Minister.

And that was the good thing that happened to Big Tim at Christmas.

BERTHA THE LITTLE BUCKET. Bertha was a bucket. Not a big bucket, but a little bucket.

When she came into the world of human beings, manufactured by human

beings, she had been immediately galvanized.

The process of galvanization, which gave her a coat of silver zinc, was

done to make her resistant to rust and other forms of decay that would

certainly attack her if she were not protected in this way.

Right from the beginning Bertha’s life was not one of ease and luxury, nor

was it free from anxiety and sorrow.

In the factory where she had been moulded, riveted, and attached to a

rounded handle, she had been scorned because of her size.

A large bucket called Bullstrode was her chief tormentor.

“You are such a pathetic little bucket,” he liked to say to Bertha. “Look at

you. Your capacity is nothing compared to my own. Why, when I am filled


86

with water I can carry almost three gallons. That’s how strong I am. How

many gallons can you carry? Not even one, I doubt you would have the

strength to carry even that amount.”

Bullstrode, the big bucket liked to say this to Bertha, the little bucket, on

every occasion he could.

From the factory of their manufacture Bertha and Bullstrode were sent to

the same General Store in the country near to where Tommy and his Mum and

Dad lived.

Bertha’s torment continued. She began to feel bad about herself, and when

she hoped that Bullstrode would be bought by some burly farmer, who would

be rough with him, she felt worse because she knew she should not wish harm

upon any other bucket. All Bertha wanted was some peace.

One day Tommy and his Dad came into the General Store. They needed

two buckets, a large one and a small one.

“Why a small one?” Tommy asked.

“Small buckets have their uses too,” Dad told him.

When she heard Tommy’s Dad say this, Bertha’s spirits perked up.

“You hear that?” she said to Bullstrode.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you are inferior to my well structured

strength and proportions,” Bullstrode said.

Nevertheless, Bertha was cheered by the man’s words and became really

hopeful when the boy picked her up and said, “I like this one.”


87

The father took Bertha from his son and examined her, tapping her sides

and running his fingers along her row of rivets.

“Seems sound.” He handed Bertha back to Tommy. “Hold on to it.”

If they buy me, Bertha thought. I’ll get away from that horrible Bullstrode.

Then, to her dismay she saw Tommy’s Dad pick up Bullstrode and

examine him in the same way he had examined her.

“This one will do just fine,” the man said.

“You see,” Bullstrode said to Bertha. “This human being recognizes what

a fine bucket I am.”

Little Bertha’s heart sank when Tommy’s Dad paid for the two buckets.

It was soon discovered that little Bertha had been manufactured with a

flaw. In fact, two flaws.

These were discovered when, upon taking the two buckets to the well,

Tommy’s dad had tied a rope to Bertha’s handle and lowered her into the well

weighted with a stone to draw up water. When Bertha was full of water she

was hauled up from the well and found to be leaking from two cracks.

Bullstrode was contemptuous of Bertha’s performance.

“You can’t even hold water,” he said. “I told you were useless.”

“Is this wee bucket no good?” Tommy asked his Dad.

Bertha felt so ashamed. Why hadn’t she been made perfect?

“Nothing in this world is perfect, Tommy,” Dad said. “This little bucket

has a flaw, certainly, but that does not mean that it cannot be of use.”


88

Words, which gave Bertha the hope that she would not be discarded and

thrown upon the scrap heap to waste away in uselessness.

Bertha all her life had the desire to be active and to be of use.

“This big bucket now,” Tommy’s Dad said, “is far to big to lower into the

well. Hauling it up would be exhausting. It is a good bucket for holding water,

but without this little bucket with all its flaws, it cannot be filled.

“Can’t we get another small bucket that doesn’t leak?” Tommy asked.

“That would be a waste,” Dad replied. “No, we’ll use this one. It may take

longer to fill the big bucket, but that doe not matter.”

And so it was that Bertha filled Bullstrode to his capacity and it took

Tommy and his Dad together to carry him to the house.

Bertha felt much better about herself after that. She had not wanted to hurt

Bullstrode’s feelings, for she knew what hurt feeling felt like, so she had not

said that without a small bucket to fill him he was not much use.

But that was not the end of Bertha’s story.

When Tommy told his Mum that the little bucket had two leaks, his Mum

came to see and declared that she could use Bertha as a watering can, which

would save having to buy one.

So Bertha watered the seeds that had been sown in the garden, and saw

them grow into multi-coloured flowers and the choicest of vegetables.

Bertha rejoiced in her usefulness.

As for Bullstrode, well, he remained a big bucket, but in another way he

became a larger and better bucket, for he had been humiliated by what he had


89

heard about not being able to fill himself, and in his humility he stopped

tormenting Bertha and accepted her for what she was.

They worked together for the good of the human beings and became great

friends.

COLIN THE CATERPILLAR. Colin the Caterpillar was frightened. In Tommy’s garden the birds were in

a feeding frenzy. They swooped down and gobbled up aphids, worms, and his

fellow caterpillars.

Colin moved as fast as his little legs would carry him for the sanctuary of

Tree.

“Tree,” he called, desperately. “Save me.”

Tree heard his cry and sent out a long branch towards Colin’s little green

hairy body. Colin climbed onto the limb and was lifted high and was hidden

among Tree’s foliage. He sat there, trembling and panting after his exertion.

Colin watched the birds devour his friends the worms, the aphids and his

brothers and sisters.

“Why Tree?” he asked. “Why does the world have to be this way?”

“Do you believe in God, Colin?” Tree asked.

“I do. I often talk to him.”

“That’s a very good thing to do,” Tree said. “Did you ever ask God the

question you asked me?”

“I did,”


90

“And?”

“I didn’t understand what He said.”

“What did He say?”

“That He hadn’t finished with the world, just as He hadn’t finished with

me. He said the world was like it was because human beings did not do what

He asked them to do.”

“True,” said Tree. “The whole world was such a wonderful place before

human beings were disobedient to God. The lamb had no fear of the lion and

they could lie down together, and human beings could walk with God in the

cool of the evening and enjoy His company. The worm and the caterpillar

were safe from the beaks of birds and all were fed by the hand of God.”

“That must have been a wonderful time,” said Colin.

“It is a time that will come again when God finishes His work and sends

his Son Jesus back again to make all things new and as they were.”

“Then I won’t have to worry about being the breakfast for a hungry bird,”

said Colin. “What did God mean when He said that he hadn’t finished with

me?”

“If I told you that God is going to transform you would you believe me?”

“Tree, you are very old and very wise, how could I not believe you, but I

need help to believe that I will have a better and more beautiful body that this

horrible green hairy one.”

“Have faith,” Tree said. “That is what God asks of human beings, that they

have the faith to believe that they can be born again of the Spirit of God who


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sent His Son to die for their disobedience. If they do that they die to wanting

the things of the human world and when their bodies die in this world they

will be resurrected, given a new body by the power of God that will be

beautiful and never die.”

“You say Tree that I am going to be transformed. Will I have a new body?

A beautiful body?”

“Believe it, Colin.” Tree said.

“Will I be strong as the ant is strong?”

“You will not be as the ant.”

“Will I have spots like the ladybird?”

“You will not be as the ladybird.”

“I know snails are slow, but will I have a house on my back to hide in

when I am in danger?”

“You will not be as a snail.”

“Will I be like the bee?”

“No, Colin, you will not be like the bumble or the honey bee.”

“Will I be able to spin a web like the spider?”

“You will not be like the spider.”

“Oh dear,” Colin said. “What will I be able to do and what will I be like

when God transforms me?”

“You will be unique,” Tree said.

“Unique?”


92

“There will be nothing like you, although you will see others who appear

to be similar. There will only be one of you.”

“Tree,” Colin said. “I feel strange. Why do I feel so strange? It’s as if

something is coming over me.”

And indeed there was something coming over Colin, wrapping itself

around him, cradling him in suspension from Tree.

Colin felt himself falling asleep and the last words he heard Tree say were,

“You are dying to the world of the caterpillar, but soon you will be born

again.

And Colin remained for some time in that which is known as a cocoon

before a cracking sound woke him and that which was around him fell away

and he felt something wet on his back but the sunlight dried the moisture and

it felt like two sails were opening on his back. They fluttered and he fell from

Tree’s branch.

What began as a cry of fear turned into a shout of joy as he called out to

Tree, “Look at me, Tree, I’m flying. Who would ever have thought that God

would transform me into a butterfly.

And indeed Colin was a brilliantly coloured butterfly in reds and yellows.

As he headed for a purple butterfly tree, Tree smiled and waved.


93

GARY THE GREYHOUND. On each Lord’s Day after church, Sunday school and lunch, Tommy, his

Mum and Dad, and Jess the dog would, during the long, cloudless days of

summer walk through the fields along by the river, usually in the direction of

Hare Hill.

Sunday was the day of rest and recreation. God had rested one day of the

week and on that day He looked at what he had created and saw that it was

good. And because it was good for God to rest in this way, he asked the

human beings he had created to rest also on this special day of the week.

These walks allowed Tommy’s Mum and Dad to point out to Tommy all

the animal, vegetable and mineral wonders of God’s creation.

Tommy always watched out for the colourful kingfisher and the long-

legged heron with the broad wingspan. Then there were the otters who built

wooden dams so that they could catch the fish they needed to live. And the

fish, minnows, sticklebacks and trout who were fed upon by the kingfisher

and the heron, fed upon the worms and white grubs that fell into the river, or

upon the flies that alighted upon the water. For each creature that lived it was

necessary for another to die.

As Tommy’s Dad explained it:

“For us to live we eat chickens and cows and pigs, and lambs, and

vegetables, and this keeps our bodies alive and healthy, but for our souls to

have eternal life it was necessary for Jesus, the Lamb of God to die.”


94

Tommy came to know, on these peaceful Sunday walks, the names of the

grasses and the flowers and which was corn and which was wheat and which

was oats. During these times also he learned his memory verses. He had come

to be able to recite the first Psalm in metrical verse, and when he saw the alder

trees beside the river he understood what was meant by describing the person

who knew and followed God’s law as being:

…. like a tree that hath Been planted by a river,

Which in its season yields its fruit, And its leaf fadeth never;

And all he doth shall prosper well, The wicked are not so;

But like they are unto the chaff, Which the wind drives to and fro.

And now he was learning about the feeding of the hungry and thirsty and

the stranger in need of shelter. “I was a stranger and you invited me in.”

But on Hare Hill the peace of Sunday was often shattered, and for the

hares and the rabbits there was no rest. Men with coloured bandanas tied

around their necks came from the town with greyhounds. Slim and slinky,

these dogs with long tails would be pitted by their masters against the hares of

Hare Hill.

Seeing these men and dogs Tommy’s father would shake his head and

compress his lips.

“Is that not good?” Tommy asked.


95

“Not good at all, Tommy,” Dad replied. “I have spoken to them about

misusing God’s creatures in this way and about not keeping this day holy, but

their ears are stopped and they only laugh.”

One Sunday evening when Nora Nannygoat, Clara the Cow, and Jess,

were comfortably settled in the barn, Jess who could hear sounds no human

being could hear, pricked up her ears and sat up.

“What is it, Jess?” asked Clara.

“Quiet,” Jess cautioned, and moved towards the wall of the barn where

there were some rotten boards that had broken away leaving a gap that

Tommy’s Dad had yet to fix.

Now Jess could smell another dog just outside.

“Who are you?” Jess demanded.

“Help me,” came a whining voice from outside. “I’m Gary the Greyhound.

“Why should I help you?” Jess said.

“Because I am in need,” whined Gary.

“In need of what?” asked Nora Nannygoat.

“In need of food and shelter. Please, let me come in, and at least listen to

what I have to say.”

Jess, Nora, and Clara, conferred

“I’d like to hear what he has to say,” Clara said.

“And if he gets nasty, I’ll butt him,” Nora said.

And Jess thought it would be a good thing to let Gary come in.

“See if you can crawl under those rotten boards,” she said.


96

They watched as Gary’s long, thin, ribbed body came scrabbling and

slithering into the barn.

“Thank you,” he said with a sigh of relief. “Do you have anything to eat?

I’m really hungry.”

Jess had not eaten all her supper and she watched Gary devour what was

left, and lap some water from Clara’s trough.

“Thank you,” Gary said, burping.

“Why are you here and not back in town with the man who brought you to

Hare Hill?” Jess asked.

“I ran away because he was going to kill me when he got home.”

“Why should he want to kill you?” Clara said.

“Because I can’t run as fast as the other dogs,” Gary said. “And because I

lost him money. He bet the other men I would be the first to catch the hare,

and I wasn’t. He says I’m useless.”

“Maybe he doesn’t mean it. Maybe he just said he’d kill you.”

“He’d do it,” Gary said, “because he’s done it before. They all do it. They

kill off the dogs that don’t run fast enough.”

“Well,” Nora said. “If ever I see him, I’ll butt him. Hard.

“I’m very tired,” Gary said. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Of course,” Jess said. “And tomorrow we’ll think of some way to help

you.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do, tomorrow,” Gary said. He slunk over to some

hay and lay down. And slept, knowing that for this night he was safe.


97

“How will we help him?” Clara asked.

“Our human beings are good people,” Jess said. “They are sure to help

him.”

And Jess, Nora, and Clara were so sure of this that they too fell asleep.

And it came to pass that because Gary’s master thought nothing of him at

all and made no enquires about him, that Gary came to live with Jess, and

Clara, and Nora Nannygoat.

HENRIETTA HEDGEHOG. Henrietta Hedgehog heard the swish and crackle of a billhook cutting

through the grasses before she saw the large feet of the human being and the

even larger cross-laced leather boots, which contained them.

Henrietta quivered, then shivered.

“What is it, Momma?” cried her three young daughters, Harriet, Honoria,

and Hester, in unison.

“It is a human being cutting the grasses along the lane,” Henrietta replied.

“Now, we must all be very, very quiet.”

They all held their breaths.

“You see, Tommy, how to do it?” The voice of the adult human being

said. “You must grasp the grass firmly, pull it straight, then cut with the blade

close to the ground.”

Swish, cut. Swish, cut. Nearer and nearer came the sharp blade of the

billhook to the nest of Henrietta Hedgehog.


98

“Oh dear,” she worried. “I wish they would stop and go away.” She could

now see a smaller pair of human feet in black welly boots.

“Let me cut some,” a small voice piped.

“For everything there is a season. Your time for cutting is not yet come.

For now, you must watch how it is done.”

“Ach, Dad!”

Swish, cut. Swish, cut.

“Oh, look Tommy! Look what we have here.”

The last cut had brought to light Henrietta at the door of her nest, hiding

and protecting Harriet, Honoria and Hester. She curled into a round ball and

presented the human beings with all of her thick, quilled, prickly hair.

Usually when she did this foxes, badgers, and dogs having had their noses

jagged went away and left her alone.

“What is it, Dad?”

“A hedgehog. I think we’ve found its nest and she is probably protecting

her young.”

How right you are, thought Henrietta. Why don’t they go away?

“We must leave her alone, Tommy, because if we disturb her nest she will

have to move and build another and carry her young to that by the scruff of

their necks. Come on, that will do for today.”

Henrietta heaved a sigh of relief. Now she wouldn’t have the trouble of

moving. As the human beings moved away she heard the father say to his son.

“Tommy, you must not take this billhook to play with. Promise me?”


99

“I promise.”

They came back and left a saucer of milk for Mrs. Hedgehog and her

family.

“These are good people,” Henrietta told Harriet, Honoria, and Hester.

“They let us live in peace.”

Another day Henrietta was hurrying back to her nest because she knew

there was a storm coming. That was when she saw Tommy in a field near the

lane. He was alone and he had the billhook and was slashing rushes.

“He promised his Dad he wouldn’t do that,” Henrietta said to herself.

“And now there is a storm brewing and he will be soaked to the skin when it

comes.”

She dived into her nest because another human being, Mr. Adgee, who

lived further along the lane, was also hurrying home.

Mr. Adgee stopped when he saw Tommy and shouted at him, “Hey boy!

Does your Da know you’re out there with that sickle?” Sickle is another name

for a billhook.

Tommy felt guilty and was about to reply when Larry Lightening flashed

from the sky to earth and split a tree in the distance. This was followed by a

great roar from Troy Thunder. Tommy dropped the billhook and ran as fast as

his little legs would carry him towards the safety of home.

Mr. Adgee laughed and called after him, “That’s God, boy. He’s angry

with you for something. It’s lucky He didn’t strike you down with a bolt of

lightening.”


100

The storm raged all that night, and Henrietta, Harriet, Honoria and Hester

lay safe and snug in their nest. Next morning all was still and the sun shone

again.

Tommy and his Dad brought another saucer of milk.

“Dad, it was all my fault,” Henrietta heard Tommy say.

“What was?”

“Yesterday, and all last night. That was God being angry with me.”

“Nonsense. That was just a natural storm.

“Mr. Adgee said it was God angry with me for being out in the field with

the billhook.

“Oh dear. And you promised me you would not do that.”

“I won’t do it again. I really won’t. I don’t want God to be angry with

me.”

“That wasn’t God being angry with you or with anyone else. That was just

thunder and lightening. A storm, and throughout your life you will see many

storms. Just remember that each one results from natural conditions. I fear I

will have to speak to Mr. Adgee.”

“Are you angry with me, Dad?”

“Not angry, just disappointed. Where is my billhook?”

“I dropped it in the field.”

Henrietta followed them to the field.


101

“Look at that, Tommy,” his Dad said. “Look how the blade has become

rusted and has lost its clean cutting edge. I shall have trouble cleaning it and

restoring it.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

Tommy’s Dad sighed.

“I forgive you,” he said, “just as I am forgiven for the things I have done

that disappointed our Father in Heaven.

How right you are, thought Henrietta Hedgehog and went back to attend to

Harriet, Honoria and Hester.

GOING TO SEE BAMBI. Peter Parker answered Tommy with longing in his voice.

“Of course I would like to go, but my Dad would not allow me to.”

Tommy thought this strange. His own Dad was taking him to see the new

Walt Disney film ‘Bambi’ and he had asked Peter if he would like to come

with Billy and Barbara and himself.

“Why ever not?” he asked.

“Dad thinks it’s wrong to go to the pictures. He says picture houses are not

places we should be.”

Tommy had been to one or two picture houses. He liked being there. He

liked the way his feet sank into the deep red carpet as he walked up the stairs

to the Balcony.


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The seats, too, were comfortable, more comfortable that the hard wooden

pews there were in church, and they were on springs so that when you stood

up they sprang back and people could pass by easily on their way to vacant

seats.

Picture houses were bigger than churches, and it was exciting when the

lighting slowly dimmed and the beam of light shot from the projection room

to the large silver screen and the film began and you could settle down and

watch Stan and Ollie make a mess of an orderly world and laugh your head

off as they did it.

“Ask your dad if you can come,” Tommy said.

“He’d say ‘no’. I know he’d say ‘no’. Do you have a radio in your house?”

“One with silver valves and an acid battery,” Tommy said.

“We don’t have a radio. Dad says it’s not a thing we should have in the

house.”

“But you’d like to come with us?”

“Yes,” said Peter. “I’d like that.”

“Then leave it to me,” Tommy said.

This conversation had taken place in Sunday school, and when the two

fathers had collected their sons, and were walking back home with Billy and

Barbara in tow, Tommy said:

“Mr. Parker, my Dad’s taking me and Billy and Barbara to see ‘Bambi’

next Saturday. Can Peter come with us?”


103

Without considering the matter Mr. Parker answered, “No, Peter will not

be going with you.”

“But why not?” Tommy said. “It’s….”

“Tommy,” said Tommy’s father. “Mr. Parker has said ‘no’, and I think

that should be enough.”

“Told you so,” Peter whispered to Tommy.

“More than enough,” said Mr. Parker. “And if you’re taking these children

into a place like that, then it’s a wrong done thing.”

Tommy waited for his Dad to reply. To tell Mr. Parker that it was not

wrong.

“You think I am doing wrong, Percy?” Tommy’s Dad said.

“I do,” said Mr. Parker.

“In that case I will not take my son and these other children to see

‘Bambi’.”

“Aw Dad,” wailed Tommy. “What about Barbara and Billy? We all want

to see it.”

“I’m sorry children,” said Tommy’s Dad.

“It’s all right,” said Billy. “Mom will take us instead and Tommy can

come with us.”

“Do you think that would be wrong also?” Tommy’s Dad asked Mr.

Parker.

“It would not be right.”


104

“Then I’m afraid that even if Billy and Barbara go to see ‘Bambi’ I will

not allow Tommy to go.”

“A good thing too,” said Mr. Parker. “Now you’re talking sense.”

When Tommy and his Dad got home, Tommy said, “Why Dad? Why

can’t you take us? We were going anyway. Now we’re not. You could still

take us.”

“I could, Tommy, but I won’t. I gave my word to Mr. Parker.”

“But why? You don’t believe it’s wrong to go the pictures.”

“I can go to the cinema and take you provided I have taken into

consideration that what we will be seeing will help us fix our minds on

whatever is true and honourable and has an excellence that will help us to help

others.

“And ‘Bambi’ is a picture that would do that?”

“I think so,” said Tommy’s Dad.

“Then why can’t we go?”

“Because God does not want me to fall out with Mr. Parker. I would not

be pleasing Him if I did that.”

“Will we ever be able to go to the pictures again?”

“We must wait and see.”

On Monday Peter Parker said to Tommy.

“We could save up and go and see ‘Bambi’ and not tell anybody.”

Tommy felt tempted, but unhappy.

“I don’t know,” he said. “We’d be going against our Fathers.”


105

“They’d never know.”

“I need to think about it,” Tommy said. He spent a troubled Tuesday

thinking about it wondering if he went would his father find out.

On Wednesday Mr. Parker came to see Tommy’s Dad.

“Jack,” he said. “I’ve been troubled since Sunday. I’ve been looking into

this film. There seems to be no harm in it. I had no right to tell you that you

should not take Tommy to see it. You can take him if you want to.”

“Will you be taking Peter to see it?”

“I thought maybe he might go with you.”

Tommy’s Dad was surprised, but he was even more surprised when Mr.

Parker said, “I thought maybe I might go with you as well.”

On Saturday when they all came out of the cinema Mr. Parker was wiping

his eyes with a large white handkerchief, but he had never before felt nearer to

his son Peter or nearer to God’s son, Jesus.

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS. God, the Father of Mankind had no need to ask where his Son had gone.

He knew everything and could do anything, and He was able to be

everywhere at once because He was light, and light could move very fast

indeed so that everywhere and everything was visible to him all at the same

time. He knew that his only Son had gone to Earth for little Jody Johnston.


106

As He came to the gates of Earth, the Son of God saw the Dragon He had

tied up in chains when He had come to Earth as a Human Being and had died

on a wooden cross at a place called Calvary to take away the sins of the world.

The Dragon glared at him with malevolent eyes remembering His

resurrection and His triumph over death when after being buried for three

days he had walked again and had given final instructions to his disciples.

As he passed through the gates, the Dragon shouted after him: “Here I am,

chained and bound, yet your precious creations go on sinning. Those who

obey your Father and You and who are guided by the Holy Spirit grow less

and less in number. The rest behave as badly without me as with me. This

world is still mine.”

Of course the Dragon was mistaken. He had lost all understanding of

God’s purpose since he had been tumbled out of Heaven after his rebellion

against God. He did not understand his defeated state because every person

who ceased to believe in God added to his belief that he was growing in

strength and confidence.

He did not understand that when God, in his own time, made all things

new, the Dragon and all who followed him would be no more. It was a false

strength and a false confidence.

The Son of God came to a house in Orangefield Grove not far from where

Tommy lived with his Mum, Toto, the Cairn terrier, Frivel and Honeybunch,

the Old English Sheepdogs, and Nancy and Clancy the two Tabby cats.


107

This house was different from the others in the street. Its gardens were

neglected and overgrown with weeds and paint was peeling from the outside

walls and woodwork.

Each house in the street had a Christmas tree, for it was that time of year.

Each house, that is, except that of Mr. and Mrs. Johnston.

The windows of their house were shrouded in tattered and dirty curtains,

and the inside of the house was a disorderly mess with dirty dishes piled high

in the sink, unmade beds, un-swept floors and broken ornaments and

furniture. There was also the smell of rotting food and beer bottles lay around

the floors amidst mouse droppings. Cockroaches walked in the dead of night.

The Son of God made his way upstairs to a small room at the back of the

house. In this room was a small bed with dirty sheets and blankets.

Lying on this bed was the body of a small boy of about five years of age.

Standing beside the body, trembling, and looking lost, as if not knowing

what to do or where to go was the life and soul of that small, undernourished

boy.

He turned towards the light, which had come into the room. The fear on

his face had drained away.

“What do I do?” he asked.

“You will come with me, Jody,” said the Son of God. “I have something

to show you.”


108

Jody took the outstretched hand and was enveloped in light, so that he had

to shut his eyes. When he opened them again, the light was not so intense and

he could see that he was in a cave-like place that seemed to be a stable.

“Where are we?”

“Did your father or mother not tell you about a child born in a manger?”

“No. What child?”

“The child who grew up to be the Lamb of God.”

“What did the child do?”

“Let me show you.”

And Jody was shown the life of Jesus of Nazareth, heard him preach on

the Mount about how to love God and our neighbours as we would love

ourselves. Jody saw him die and come alive again and ascend into heaven.

“My Father sent me so that whosoever believes in me will not perish but

will live forever. Do you believe that, Jody.”

“Yes,” said Jody.

“Then we can go now.”

“Where?”

“To a place I have prepared for you. A good place. Where you will suffer

no more.”

“Wait,” said Jody. “I would like to see Mummy and Daddy again.”

Enveloped once again in light he was returned to that neglected house and

his neglectful parents.


109

His mother was in her bedroom and his father was sprawled out in the

living room. Both snored and snorted and twitched in drunken sleep.

“If they die,” Jody asked, “will you come for them and show them what

you showed me?”

“They already know what I showed you.”

“What will happen to them?”

“If they do not believe in Me they will not know their Father in Heaven

nor will they share in His life.”

“But I want them to,” cried Jody. “Make them believe in You.”

“I cannot make them, Jody. They must choose to believe and ask me into

their lives.”

“Then I don’t want to go with you. I want to stay here and make sure they

choose to believe in You. I love them.”

“If you stay, you will suffer.”

“You suffered.”

“I did.”

“May I stay?”

When the Son of God left Jody’s house He broke a front window and left

the door swinging on its rusty hinges, so that Constable Campbell, passing on

his beat investigated and summoned an ambulance.

In hospital Jody recovered slowly, and the prosecution of his father and

mother was their first step on the stairway to Heaven.


110

HONOURED DOG. When the winter winds lamented around the house in the country where

Tommy lived, his Mum would light the oil lamps, for the house had no

electricity at that time, and Dad would clear the long wooden table in

preparation for the games they would play.

One of these games was called “There’s Something Fishy About That”.

What you had to do was to think of the name of a fish then try to make up a

funny sentence using it.

Tommy’s Dad started the ball rolling.

“This must be the Plaice,” he said. “The fish market where they sell fish.”

“Aw, Dad,” Tommy said. “You always start with that one.”

Tommy had learned the difference between Plaice, the fish, and Place,

which was where you had to go or where you were already.

“Well, Tommy,” Mum said. “No matter how much you or I Carp about it,

your Dad will always start with that one.”

“Carp? Is that a fish, Mum?”

“Yes, look,” and she showed him a picture of Colin Carp in a book about

fish.

“Does it mean something else?”

“It means to keep on finding fault about something.”

“No Codding,” Tommy said. He knew that Cod was a fish and that his

Dad had worked with Irishmen who were always joking or codding.

“Well done, Tommy,” Dad said. “Can you think of another?


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Tommy put on his thinking cap but seemed unable to come up with

anything. “I know there’s Tommy Trout, but I can’t think of anything about

him. What other fish is there, Dad?”

“How about Dennis the Dogfish, Cecelia the Catfish and Ollie the

Octopus, and Sebastian the Shark, and Wallace the Whale and Peter the Pike

and Harry the Haddock.”

“Not to mention,” Mum said, “Hubert the Halibut, Minnie the Minnow,

Sherlock the Salmon.”

“Hmm,” said Tommy, thoughtfully “How can a Dogfish?”

“Ha!” exclaimed Dad. “That’s a good one.”

“Maybe it uses a Pike,” Mum said.

“What else is a Pike?” asked Tommy.

“It’s an instrument of war,” Dad said, and he drew a long pole at the top of

which was a spear-like point. “In some countries people spear fish.”

As it was time for Tommy to go to bed, the game soon ended after that.

Just before he kissed his parents goodnight, Dad said, “I’ve been thinking of

getting a dog.”

“Oh, I’d love a dog,” Tommy said.

“It’s a big responsibility,” Mum said.

“As long as we know that,” said Dad.

Tommy went to bed happy with the thought of having a dog to look after.

Next day Tommy and his Dad went to see Mr. Coulter, the farmer in

whose house they were fixing. Mr. Coulter had lots of dogs but none of them


112

were pups. They were all Border Collies. Black and white dogs used to

finding and rounding up Mr. Coulter’s sheep and cows.

“All good stock,” Mr. Coulter said. “You could have Jess, there. Has the

same markings as her grandmother. She was called Jess as well. Let’s say half

a crown,” which in those days was a lot of money.

“I’ll come for her tomorrow,” Dad said. “Tommy and I have to make her a

house to live in.”

That night Jess couldn’t sleep.

Jess told her mother that Mr. Coulter had sold her. “And I don’t want to

go,” she said.

“My dear,” said her mother. “Sometimes there is nothing else for it. You

must be brave like your grandmother. She had to leave home and go to a far

worse place than you are going to.”

And Jess’ mother told her, her grandmother’s story. Of how she was

trained to patrol the trenches when the human beings went to war from 1914

until 1918 so that the exhausted soldiers could sleep knowing that she would

alert them when the Germany enemy made an attack.

Often the soldiers were ordered to go over the top and attack the enemy,

and afterwards many were left stranded in what was known as No-Man’s

Land. Then Jess would be sent out to round up and bring back the walking

wounded or to lead stretcher-bearers to those who couldn’t walk back.

One night she was bringing back a soldier who had been blinded by an

explosion when she heard footsteps coming towards her and sensed another


113

dog. She led her soldier into a large shell hole and the other dog brought a

German soldier into the same shell hole. That German soldier had also been

blinded.

The other dog was a German Shepherd.

“I’m Jess,” she said. “I’m bringing this soldier back to his trenches.”

“I’m Fritz,” said the German Shepherd, “and I am doing likewise.”

“Isn’t war terrible?” Jess said. “These are just young boys and both have

been blinded.”

“Let us keep them apart, otherwise even in their blindness they might try

to kill each other.”

With this in mind Jess and Fritz led their young soldiers in opposite

directions from the shell hole.

“God go with you, Fritz,” Jess called.

“And with you,” Fritz replied.

All in all Grandmother Jess saved the lives of two hundred young men,

bringing them back safely.

When the war was over Jess came home on a troop ship and went to live

again with Mr. Coulter. He and Jess made the trip to London, where, at

Buckingham Palace Jess received from the King two medals, one for bravery

and the other for valour.

“So,” said young Jess’ mother, “you must be as brave as your

grandmother.”

Morning came, and Tommy and his Dad brought Jess to her new home.


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PRESENT FOR CHRISTMAS. That time of year came round again when children wrote their Christmas

lists to Santa who was really St. Nicholas who not only looks after children

but also looks after sailors.

Barbara, Billy who was no longer considered a menace, and Tommy were

no exceptions to this yearly ritual and once the notes were written they were

placed carefully in the chimney flue protected by a cellophane envelope so

that the words would not become so sooty that Santa could not read them.

“Our notes to Santa have gone,” Barbara told Tommy. “Has yours?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy replied. “I haven’t looked since I put it up the

chimney.”

“Oh, I’m sure it has,” Barbara said. “Santa would be methodical and

collect all the notes from each street at the same time. He’s so busy, it would

save him having to come back again.”

“He has a lot of little helpers,” Tommy said.

“I only asked for one thing,” Barbara said.

“I hope you get it,” Tommy said. “Sometimes you don’t always get what

you asked for. That happened to me one year.”

“That must have been disappointing,” Barbara said. “But I’m sure I won’t

be disappointed this year, asking for only one thing.”

“How many things did Billy ask for?” Tommy said.


115

“He wouldn’t say. He usually has a list as long as your arm. So this year it

might be as long as your leg.”

“Will your Dad be taking you to the Circus this year?” Tommy had gone

with Barbara and Billy and their Dad last year and had enjoyed seeing all the

clowns, animals, and trapeze artists.

“I suppose so,” Barbara said.

“It was good last year,” Tommy said.

“It could have been better,” Barbara said.

When Tommy got home his note from Santa had gone from the chimney.

Santa Claus has no objection to Mums and Dads reading the notes their

children write to him. In fact sometimes a Mum or Dad has added a comment,

usually along the lines of: ‘Don’t you think a real Centurion Tank might be a

little too dangerous in the hands of so young a child?’

And of course the Mum or Dad would be right and Santa would leave

something else, and a note explaining why.

Barbara’s Mum read first of all her daughter’s letter to Santa. It said:

Dear Santa, I do not want any toys this Christmas. I just want my Daddy to come home and live with us again and to love my Mummy, and I want my Mummy to love my Daddy so that he stays with us and doesn’t go away any more. Maybe that’s two things, but I think it’s all the one thing. Please bring me my Daddy for Christmas and I will be grateful forever and ever. Love, Barbara.


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Barbara’s Mum’s eyes filled with tears, which she wiped away

before reading Billy’s note:

Dear Santa, Usually I give you a long list from which you pick one or two items. This year is different. I’m really unhappy without my Dad, so what I really want with all my heart is for him to come back and be with us. So please bring him back to us for Christmas, and be careful not to smother him in your sack. Signed: Billy.

Billy’s Mum had to sit down. The notes trembled in her hands.

She began to cry and it was as if she was never going to stop.

But at last she did. Crying always made her eyes puffy and her

nose red. After she had washed her face, she phoned her husband

who was living apart in a flat on the other side of town.

His name was Eric, and he met his wife Veronica in a coffee

shop. She gave him the notes to read. He read each of them twice,

and then a third time.

“I had nothing to do with what they wrote, and they did not

write their notes together,” Veronica said.

The notes made their Dad feel uncomfortable.

“We’ve made our children unhappy,” Veronica said.

Their Dad looked even more uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he said.

“We were both selfish, Eric. We did what we thought best for

ourselves.”

“We thought it was best for them, too, Veronica.”


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“Are you happy, Eric?”

“I don’t think about being happy.”

“Are you not lonely?”

He got up, leaving the letters to Santa on the table. He

stumbled out of the coffee shop.

On Christmas morning children get up really early and tiptoe

downstairs to see what presents Santa has left beneath Christmas

Trees.

Barbara and Billy met on the landing outside their bedrooms.

“What did you ask for, Billy?”

“Nothing, except for Santa to bring Dad home to live with us.”

“That’s what I asked for, too,” Barbara said, surprised. “I only

hope he did.”

They went quietly downstairs and into the living room where

the tree was. Under the tree were a number of presents, some for

Barbara, some for Billy.

There was a note pinned to the fireplace. LOOK BEHIND

THE DOOR, it said.

The door they had opened as they came into the room. When

they looked, they saw their Dad, grinning at them. They ran to him

and he swept them into his arms.

“Daddy, Daddy,” they cried. “Are you here to stay? You won’t

be going away again?”


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Their mother, hearing their joyful shouts, had come into the

room.

“I’ll stay if it’s all right with your Mum,” he said.

“It would be good if you stayed,” their Mum said.

In Church, they sang: “Love Came Down at Christmas Time”,

and there was much rejoicing in Heaven because of two who had

come back to God and love.

Barbara told Tommy it was the happiest Christmas ever.

THE TROUT IN THE WELL. All this took place at a time when Tommy was four years of age and Toto

had not yet been born.

Jack and Mary, Tommy’s Mum and Dad had been married for five years.

It was a difficult time when a great many people throughout the nation could

not find work and making ends meet was a daily problem.

This was due to the fact that the love of money – which is the root of all

evil – had reached the stage where in the money markets of the world there

was more imaginary money than there was real money to provide people with

their daily bread.

This time came to be known as the Great Depression and Tommy’s Dad

lost his job when his employer who was a builder of houses became bankrupt.

“What are we going to do, Jack?” Tommy’s Mum looked worried and was

anxious about the future.

“I’ll try and get another job,” his Dad said.


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And try he did. He walked for miles around the city, and even walked to

other towns to be turned back by the men of those towns who did not want

him to be taking the bread out of their mouths and the mouths of their

children.

Tommy’s Dad did not argue with them. He had sympathy for them, so he

turned back and walked wearily home.

“There does not seem to be work anywhere,” he told his wife.

“We have Tommy to think of,” she said. “The little savings we have will

not go far and then we will no longer be able to pay the rent. We will become

beggars and have to stand in line at a soup kitchen.”

Tommy’s Mum thought that would bring a great shame upon the family.

To think that a day would come when they would not be able to buy the basic

needs to keep them alive without becoming beggars and relying upon charity.

Tommy’s Dad listened to all her anxieties, then put his arm around her.

“If,” he said, “it is God’s will that we become beggars, then we will

become beggars.”

“But, that will be terrible. What will the neighbours say?”

“Our neighbours will be in the same pickle jar,” he said. “We must do now

what we should have done before I set out to look for work.”

“And what was that?”

“Not to be anxious about the things of tomorrow, but to take all things to

God in prayer.”


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Tommy’s Mum felt as if she had been told off. Of course that’s what they

should have done.

“But how shall we pray, Jack?”

“We will pray the prayer Jesus gave us: Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be they name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is

in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses and

we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into trials but deliver us

from evil for Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory, for ever and

ever, Amen.

And so, bowed before God they prayed and added, “Father, into your

hands, in the name of Jesus your Son, we commit our family. We should have

come to you immediately for our needs. Forgive us. But now, let your will be

done whatever your will may be.”

The following evening, the Minister of their church visited them.

“Jack,” said he, “there are as many folks in as dire need as yourselves but

it has been laid upon me to make you this offer.”

He went on to tell them that he knew a farmer who had a dwelling that

needed a great deal of work done to it. He wanted a man who knew about

building and could repair He was prepared to let that man live in it rent-free if

he did the work. There were also two acres of land and the man could have

these to till and grow his own vegetables or corn. If he wanted to keep some

animals or hens that would be all right.


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“God’s hand is in this,” said Tommy’s Dad, but when they went to see the

house Tommy’s Mum had doubts.

“It’s a ruin of a place,” she said. “It’s falling apart.”

“The structure is sound,” said Tommy’s Dad.

The house was built of grey stone and had a slate roof some of which

needed replacing. Inside the plaster was crumbling from the walls.

“I can’t bring Tommy here. There’s no running water. And I think it’s

damp.”

“There is a well,” said the Minister, who had accompanied them. “Come

and see.”

It was a spring well at the bottom of one of the fields leading down to a

river. The Minister carried a bucket with him and this he dipped into the well

and then withdrew it.

“Cool, clear, water,” he said.

“Oh, look! There’s something in the bucket,” cried Tommy.

“A trout,” said Tommy’s Dad. “He has the same name as yourself.

Tommy.”

“Tommy Trout,” said Tommy, looking at the six-inch long fish with its

brown and red speckles. “Hallo, Tommy Trout.”

“Sometimes, when the river rises after rain,” said the Minister “the fish

can come up into the well by that channel. He pointed to a dry gully leading to

the river. “Trout make good eating.”


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“And with what we have saved we can get a goat for milk, and some hens

for eggs. What do you say, Mary?

Mary looked at her husband. She could see that he was excited by the

prospect of growing things and of tending animals. She looked back at the

dilapidated house and shuddered.

But, she thought, if this was God’s way of providing for their daily bread,

then so be it. It would be better than having to end up in the workhouse as a

pauper.

“If it is God’s will,” she said.

SHEILA THE LOST SHEEP, FOUND.

It was in the bleak midwinter that Samuel the Shepherd brought his

hundred sheep into the fold, then went off towards the East, following the Star

that was to lead him and his two shepherd companions to Bethlehem.

The sheep in the fold were safe and sound for Samuel had provided them

with food and water and shelter. In the fold they would be safe from bears and

lions and wolves.

Sheila was a young sheep full of curiosity and she wanted to explore the

world around her.

Those who were older and wiser warned her about straying from the fold.

“We must stay in the fold until our Shepherd comes back,” they told her,

“otherwise we will be in terrible danger.”

“What sort of danger?” asked Sheila.

“We could be eaten by a bear,” said one.


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“Or a lion,” said another.

“Or, devoured by a pack of wolves,” said a third.

“That’s what happened to Annie, and Bonnie, and Radcliffe the Ram,”

said the first.

“A bear got Radcliffe, said the second.

“A lion got Annie,” said the third.

:”And a pack of wolves got Bonnie,” said the first. “That’s why you must

stay within the fold.”

“But, as we said, Sheila the sheep was young and filled to the brim with a

restless curiosity, and although she listened to her elders with a respectful

face, she paid them little heed, because she had never suffered the claws of

bear or lion or wolf.

And so it was on the night that the Star, gleaming like a fiery cross came

to rest above a manger in Bethlehem, and the shepherds entered to find a new-

born baby, Sheila the sheep strayed from the fold.

Because the night was crisp and the night starlit and the moon three-

quarters full and the snow glistening on the ground, Sheila had no difficulty in

seeing where she was going.

But where in fact was she going? She remembered a field beside still

waters where the grass was lush and tender and pleasing to the taste.

Samuel the Shepherd had led her there along with the rest of his flock. It

was a place to feel safe in. A place where she had never seen or heard bears or


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lions or wolves. Now where was this green pasture? She started off in the

opposite direction to where the Star was shining steadily in the East.

But, soon, Sheila was lost, and the going was no longer as easy as it had

been when she first left the fold. There had been snow upon snow and Sheila

began to flounder and it became deeper the further she went from the fold.

She came to a tree where she nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Her heart

was pounding and she nearly jumped out of her wool when the tree spoke to

her.

“Go back,” said the tree. “Rest for a moment, but go back.”

It was then Sheila heard the howl of a wolf, the cough of a lion, and the

growl of a bear.

“Ooooh,” wailed Sheila, “what shall I do?”

“Sheep can’t climb,” said the tree, “and anyway it would do you no good

if you could, for both lions and bears can climb trees as you can see from their

claw marks on my bark.”

“Ooooh,” moaned Sheila as the sounds of the wild animals came nearer.

“What am I to do?”

Sheila stood at the foot of the tree shivering with cold and fright. Then in a

moment of panic she ran.

She did not see the ditch that had filled with snow and into this she

tumbled head over all four heels. She landed on her back looking upward.

Flakes of snow fell, tucking in all around her. Soon she could no longer see

the stars.


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“I’m lost,” she said. “No-one will ever find me here. Oh, how sorry I am

that I ever left the fold.” She closed her eyes and cried.

In the meantime Samuel the Shepherd had returned from seeing the new-

born King in Bethlehem and found he had only ninety-nine sheep.

He immediately set out in search of his lost sheep, praying that she would

be preserved and saved from the wild animals.

It had begun to snow and he hastened, following Sheila’s tracks. On his

way he heard the wolves howl, the lion cough, and the bear growl. Samuel

had a sling and he kept it ready.

He came and stood beneath the tree where Sheila had stood and followed

from there the fast disappearing traces of her flight in panic.

He knew where the ditch was and knew where Sheila was because there

was a bear trying to did its way down to get her.

The stone from his sling hit the bear on the back of the neck. The bear

turned, and with an angry growl came for him.

Samuel reloaded his sling and knew that this time he would have to strike

the bear on the forehead right between the eyes.

The large sharp stone sped from the sling, hummed through the air, and

struck and stuck right on target.

The bear halted in its advancing tracks, tottered, tried to recover, then

measured it full length on the ground and moved no more.

Samuel the Shepherd dug out Sheila the sheep hoisted her onto his

shoulders and returned her to the fold.


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There was great joy among the sheep over Sheila who had been lost but

was found again.

TOMMY’S SPECIAL DAY. This was going to be a day unlike any other.

It was going to be a glorious day.

A day of sunshine in which all the wild flowers would open their petals

and praise their Creator for making them so bright and beautiful.

A day when the lark rose from the meadow to soar into the azure sky and

to sing its song of praise to the accompaniment of the cuckoo and the

turtledove.

A day in which the wind became a gentle breeze and stirred the grasses

into whispering thanks for their being.

A day in which no animal would hunt or eat any other animal, but also a

day when no animal would be hungry.

This was a day decreed in Heaven by Jesus through whom all things were

made and without whom was not anything made that was made.

The two angels sitting on the wings of the creaking cart knew that, and

they were there to see that nothing interfered with the plans of the Creator.

One angel was called Hazeil, and the other was called Zephon.


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There were two human beings in the cart. The man who was driving was

Paddy Gordon, and the boy sitting on the cross-board next to him was

Tommy.

Zephon was Paddy’s guardian angel, and Hazeil was Tommy’s. Tommy’s

Dad had arranged that Paddy, a neighbouring smallholder would take the

black and white calf Tommy’s Dad had been rearing to market to be sold.

Paddy was taking five weaned pigs to sell on his own account. The pigs were

‘oinking’ quite happily in their comfortable wooden crate and the calf lay

quietly on a bed of straw.

And now they were bumping along the long lane leading to the road that

would take them to the market town.

Paddy wore and old soft hat to hide the bumps on his head called ‘wens’.

Paddy wore his hat in the house when there were visitors because he did not

like people to see his wens. Paddy’s wife said he wore a soft hat because he

had a soft head.

Paddy’s horse was a sturdy animal and he had no difficulty in pulling the

load of five pigs, one calf, two human beings and two angels up the hills. Of

course the angels weighed nothing at all.

“I know that this is to be a special day for Tommy,” Hazeil said, “but I

don’t know why, do you?”

“No,” said Zephon, “Archangel Gabriel who briefed me did not say. Did

he say anything to you?”


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“I was briefed by Archangel Raphael, and he said only that Tommy’s

Mum and Dad had been praying for him, and that their prayers had been heard

and would be answered.”

“Today?”

“I would not be at all surprised,” said Hazeil.

Paddy rested the horse at the top of a steep hill.

“It’s so clear,” Tommy said, looking down into the verdant vale where the

road they were on twisted and turned into the distance from where could be

glimpsed the gleaming church spire of the market town.

“I’ve never known it to be so clear,” Paddy said. “Or so still.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Tommy.

“It is, that.” Paddy urged the horse onward.

Soon they joined a long line of carts going to market and they became part

of a happy, joyful throng.

Hazeil and Zephon could see that there were human beings who had

angels and human beings who had not angels. Yet even those without angels

seem to be as happy and as joyful as those with guardians.

“If only they would all believe,” Hazeil said.

The market was a jolly affair, full of life and laughter. Paddy bought

Tommy lemonade and had something himself while they ate the sandwiches

they had brought with them.


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Paddy sold his pigs and the calf for a good price, and bought a nanny goat

to bring home to Tommy’s Dad who thought that goat’s milk, and butter, and

cheese would be good for them all. Then they started back for home.

When they got to the top of the same hill where they had rested before,

they rested again. All the sights and the sounds of God’s nature seemed to

Tommy to become even more brilliant.

Tommy and Paddy got down from the cart and lay down on the grassy

hill. Tommy looked up at the sky, which seemed to change to colours he had

never before seen.

Both angels were on their knees, chanting, “Holy, Holy, Holy.”

Tommy was almost overcome with the sweetness of floral fragrances.

“This is so wonderful,” he said. “This is a day I shall always remember.”

“The Holy Spirit speaks with him,” Hazeil said.

“And Paddy has not been forgotten,” said Zephon.

Paddy had taken off his hat and had thrown it high in the air to be caught

and whisked away by the wind.

“If you need me with wens, Lord, then so be it,” he shouted.

Time and the sun seemed to stand still.

“The time has come to go home,” Zephon said.

“Tommy does not want the communion to stop,” Hazeil said.

The intensity of the day waned and it was a tired Tommy who came down

from the cart.

“Did you have a good day, Tommy?” his Mum said.


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“I’ll never forget it. I met God today. He’s in my heart.”

Tommy’s parents praised and thanked God for answering their prayers.

NORA NANNYGOAT. When Nora Nannygoat was brought home from market by Tommy and

Paddy Gordon, she was put into the grazing enclosure that Tommy and his

Dad had fenced and fixed with netting wire so that Nora would not stray and

eat the vegetables in the vegetable patch.

Nora sampled the grass and found it tasty and to her liking.

“She’ll need milking,” Dad said. “You’ll love goat’s milk, Tommy. It’s so

good for you. I think I’ll milk her now.”

Dad went off to get a small round stool and a bucket. When he came back

he went into the enclosure, shutting the gate behind him.

Nora Nannygoat saw Dad coming towards her. She narrowed her eyes

because she knew that Dad was after her milk. Well, it was her milk, and what

was hers she was going to keep. She had no intention of sharing her milk.

“Come here, Nora, like a good goat,” Dad said in a coaxing voice.

Nora took a leap to the side and ran off to a far corner. Dad followed.

“Don’t be a silly goat, Nora,” he said.

Nora evaded him again, and then again, until she had Dad running around

in circles. Each time she got away from him she bleated, and to Dad’s ears

each bleat sounded like a mocking laugh.


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“Don’t get angry, Jack,” cautioned Mum. “It won’t do to lose your

temper.”

Dad very red in the face from his exertions got Nora into a corner. Nora

did not like being cornered, and this time, instead of running around Dad, she

lowered her head and charged straight at him.

It took all of Dad’s agility to avoid the hard head of Nora Nannygoat. She

went past him but turned quickly. Now Nora had Dad in the corner. She stood

pawing the ground preparing to charge. Dad did not like the look in her eyes.

He dropped both the stool and the bucket and threw himself over the netting

wire fence like a high jumper, just seconds before Nora hit a fencing post with

her head. She hit it so hard she stunned herself. She staggered back and almost

fell.

“Let’s leave the milking for now,” Dad said.

“Tommy and I are going to see Mrs. Agee,” Mum said. “Don’t go near

that goat until we get back.”

The Agees were neighbours and Mrs. Agee was not well, and Mr. Agee

was not all that good in looking after her, or himself now that the doctor has

said she must stay in bed until she got her strength back.

Mum and Tommy saw Mrs. Agee each day and cooked a meal for both

her neighbours. Mum prayed with them and saw that Mrs. Agee was

comfortable before leaving.

This time, Mum told Mrs. Agee about the antics of Nora Nannygoat, and

how she had chased Tommy’s Dad. They had a good laugh about that.


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“Goats,” Mr. Agee said. “Worse than mules. Always wanting their own

way even if it harms them. She’ll have to be milked otherwise she’ll get sick.”

“Jack can’t get near her,” Mum said.

“What about you?” Mrs. Agee asked. “You can milk, can’t you.”

“Yes, but how can I get her to stand until I do?” said Mum.

“You’ve got to wear green,” Mrs. Agee said.

“Green?”

“From head to toe,” Mrs Agee said.

“And another thing,” said Mr. Agee. “You’ve got to keep her on a tether,

and change her position often so she doesn’t eat the grass away all in the one

place.”

“It’s worth a try,” Mum said.

They told Dad what Mr. and Mrs. Agee had said. He wasn’t happy about

Mum going near Nora Nannygoat.

But Mum went into the house and came out again wearing a green

headscarf and a green coverall. She also had a collar, and got Dad to get her

an Iron spike, a long chain, and a hammer.

Then she went into the enclosure.

Nora Nannygoat had recovered from her dazed state and was grazing. She

looked up when she heard the gate open and close, but she could see that the

human beings were on the outside of the fence along with the dog.


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The funny thing was that the grass seemed to be moving towards her. It

would stop when she looked up. She went back to grazing, and when she

looked up again the grass was much nearer.

Then suddenly a collar was fastened around her neck and she was held fast

on a length of chain. The grass began to hammer something into the ground

and the chain was wound around this until she was standing from where she

could not move.

The grass walked away and picked up the stool and the bucket that the

human being had dropped, then it came back and sat down on the stool and

whispered to her, “Nora, give me your milk. You will be able eat this lovely

grass and make more, and you will not feel so uncomfortable.”

Nora did feel uncomfortable. She did need to be relieved of her milk. She

didn’t mind the grass taking it, for with grass she would be able to make more.

Later, when Dad read from the Bible about Jesus separating the goats from

the sheep, Tommy asked, “Will Nora not go to Heaven, then?”

“Nora will be there when Jesus makes all things new,” Dad said. “It’s just

that some people who act the goat will not be with Him.”

“How do people act the goat?” Tommy asked.

“They see people who are hungry and thirsty and they do not give them

food or drink. They don’t welcome people, and if people need clothes, they do

nothing about it. If people are sick they don’t look after them.”

Each day, Tommy’s Mum, in her outfit of green, milked Nora Nannygoat,

and Tommy enjoyed Nora’s milk.


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TOMMY RESCUED. Paddy and Sarah Gordon had two children. A boy called Martin, and a girl

called Maud. Tommy knew them as Marty and Maudy. They were his

neighbours when he lived in the country and they played together.

Marty went to school and could read and write and count, but in those

days when care for Down’s Syndrome children was not as developed as it is

today, Maudy stayed at home and helped her parents with the chores.

Tommy however, found out that Maudy knew what was right and what

was wrong. Whenever Marty and Tommy teased Maudy, Maudy would cry

out to her mother or father, “Marty and Tommy, at it, tease Maudy.” And

Marty and Tommy would be reprimanded.

Paddy and Sarah kept a cow and some ducks, hens, and geese to supply

them with milk and eggs, but their main business was pig rearing so that

people in fine hotels and in houses throughout the country could have rashers

of bacon or ham and pork sausages with their eggs for breakfast.

When the pigs had been reared to such a size that they could be eaten,

Paddy sent for the butcher who would come out to the smallholding and kill

the pigs. At such times the butcher would blow up a pig’s bladder, and give it

to the children to play with.

They would kick it up and down the field, always with the warning that

they were to keep well away from the river.


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This time, three days before the butcher came, it had rained heavily and

constantly. This meant that even on the fourth day when the sun came out the

river was in spate. A river in spate has an increased amount of water, which

runs down from the hills.

The day the butcher came was blustery and when the bladder was kicked,

being light, it was easily carried away by the wind.

Maybe the wind was a bit mischievous that day for it took a hand in the

game, and delighted in snatching the ball from the feet of the children.

Tommy, and Marty, and Maudy followed the bouncing ball unaware that they

were getting nearer and nearer to the fast-flowing, dark brown river.

The gusting wind lifted the ball high into the sky, shunting it back and

forth, but always keeping it just out of reach of the uplifted arms of the

children.

So intent were they on retrieving their ball that they paid no heed to where

they were stepping. Not even the sound of rushing water stopped them.

Tommy suddenly found there was nothing solid beneath his feet as he

overstepped the slippery bank of the river. He felt himself sliding, and before

he could grab hold of a clump of rushes to save himself, the shock of the cold

water numbed him. He cried out and felt himself being carried away.

His clothes became heavy with water, and he struggled against being

dragged down. He had never learned to swim, but he struck out with arms and

legs in the way he had seen Jess the dog do when she retrieved sticks from the

water.


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“Father in Heaven,” he shouted. “Save me.”

The current was strong, carrying him down stream away from the bank.

Stones bruised his knees.

Marty had been able to stop himself from falling into the torrent. He saw

Tommy being swept away then, he turned and ran as fast as he could to get

help at the house.

Maudy followed Tommy downstream, running swiftly along the bank. She

heard Tommy cry out to his Father in Heaven to save him, and it was as if, at

that moment, a new strength and knowledge came into Maudy’s being.

She saw Tommy go under, and come up again through the waters, gasping

for air, and now she ran even faster, for she had seen they were coming to a

place where the river narrowed between its banks.

On her way she picked up a long, stout, Alder branch. The wind swung

round to her back and gave her extra speed so that she got to the narrow place

before Tommy. She placed the Alder branch across the river, jamming it

between the two banks, so that when Tommy reached there he was halted long

enough for Maudy to reach out and grab him by the collar, and hold onto him

as the angry river swept the branch away. Maudy kept Tommy’s head out of

the water.

She stayed like that, bracing herself against the current until Mr. Gordon,

and the butcher and Marty came. They pulled Tommy from the raging river

and made sure he was breathing before taking him to the house where Mrs.

Gordon dried and dressed him in some of Marty’s clothes.


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Tommy’s mother was ever so grateful for his rescue. She hugged Maudy,

saying over and over again.

“Thank you Maudy, Thank you. Thank you.”

“God at it,” Maudy said. “God at it.”

MAUDY’S EGG. Miss Jenkins was a young and enthusiastic Sunday school teacher whose

worth had been recognized ever since her confirmation.

She had the red hair and the green eyes of her Irish mother but according

to her father, a less volatile temper.

Maudy Gordon was in her class for two reasons. The first reason was that

Maudy wanted to stay with her brother and his friend Tommy. The other

reason was that she liked Miss Jenkins and felt comfortable in her class

because Miss Jenkins did not treat her any differently from the other children

even though she could not speak as they could speak or learn as easily as they

could learn.

Maudy had something the other children did not have: a fault in her

physical make-up that caused her to have a face that looked different from the

other children and a brain that was different too. There were many other

children in the world like Maudy but there were no such Down’s syndrome

Children in Maudy’s Sunday school class.

It was coming up to Easter time and Miss Jenkins told them what had

happened to Jesus when He came to Jerusalem knowing he was going to die


138

on the cross in order that people everywhere could go to heaven and live in

peace with His Father.

Maudy listened with wide eyes and a mouth pursed in concentration. She

thought that she would have liked to have been there shouting ‘Hosanna’ as

Jesus rode through the gate of the city on the little donkey.

But she shuddered to think that there were men who did not love Jesus and

who wanted to put Him to death.

“Bad men,” she said. “Bad to kill.”

“Yes Maudy,” Miss Jenkins said. “God commands us not to kill.”

But Jesus was betrayed by one of his own disciples called Judas Iscariot.

“Him bad, too,” Maudy said.

When Miss Jenkins told how Jesus was beaten and crucified, Maudy had

to wipe away the tears that came to her eyes. The other children did not make

fun of Maudy but were also responding emotionally to each phase of what

happened to Jesus.

And when they were told that Jesus, just before he died asked his Father,

God, to forgive those who had crucified him, Marty said:

“I couldn’t have done that.”

And Tommy, sitting beside him wondered if he could have done what

Jesus had done.

“It takes the Spirit and the Grace of God to forgive our enemies,” Miss

Jenkins said. “We can’t do that without God’s help.”


139

Maudy was pleased to know that when Jesus died on the cross at Calvary

that was not the end. Three days later, Jesus was alive again, speaking and

eating with those who loved him and giving them instructions to go out into

all the world and spread the good news that He was alive and He would be

with them and with his Father in heaven until his Father sent Him again to

gather in all those who believed in Him, after which He would make all things

new.

“Good news! Good news!” Maudy said, clapping her hands.

Miss Jenkins had a bag with her. The children had been keeping an eye on

it hoping that there was something in it for them.

Miss Jenkins opened the bag and took from it clear plastic eggs, one for

each of the children.

The children were disappointed. There was nothing they could eat in these

eggs.

Miss Jenkins showed how the eggs unscrewed and came apart.

“For next week I want you to fill your eggs with anything you can find

that will grow into life,” she said.

“Like what, Miss?” one little girl asked.

“Like a seed,” Miss Jenkins said. “A seed looks dead but when it is put

into the ground it comes to life again and grows into a beautiful flower or a

tasty vegetable.”

Miss Jenkins made sure they all understood what had to be done.

“Maudy, do you understand?”


140

Maudy appeared to be puzzled but then nodded her head vigorously. She

understood.

“Bring your eggs back next Sunday,” Miss Jenkins said, “and the one I

judge to be best will get a big chocolate Easter egg.

On the following Sunday all the eggs were shown to Miss Jenkins. Nearly

all were alike being filled with the seeds of flowers and vegetables, some

seeds were big, some small.

But the egg belonging to Maudy had nothing at all in it. It was completely

empty.

“I told her what she had to do,” Marty said, “but she took no heed of me.”

“Did you not understand, Maudy?” Miss Jenkins asked her, gently.

“Me understand,” Maudy said.

“Then why did you not fill your egg?”

“Not egg,” Maudy said. “That tomb. Tomb empty. Life outside. In heaven.

On earth.”

“Oh, Maudy.” Miss Jenkins hugged Maudy spontaneously. “Of course.

You are right.”

Each of the other children got a small chocolate Easter egg, but Maudy

went home with the big chocolate Easter egg. It was filled with soft-centred

chocolates, which she shared with her Mum and Dad and Marty and Tommy.


141

TOMMY’S TROUBLESOME TONSILS. Tommy’s tonsils had become so troublesome that his Mum became

concerned and took him to see Doctor Dearborn.

Tommy did not like what this thing called tonsillitis had done to his voice,

which had become thick and seemed to be coming from his nose rather than

clearly from his mouth. It also affected his breathing.

Another thing he did not like was that with the exception of his friends,

the other children at school made fun of him when he spoke in answer to the

teacher’s questions.

Doctor Dearborn asked him to open his mouth wide and he placed a

wooden spatula like the flat stick you get when you buy an ice cream or lolly,

on Tommy’s tongue. He looked at the back of Tommy’s throat using a little

pencil torch.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” said Doctor Dearborn who had white hair and

a pointed white beard. He removed the spatula and sat back in his chair.

“Those are indeed troublesome tonsils,” he said. “And not only are the

tonsils troublesome, but those adenoids are annoying.”

“Will they have to come out, Doctor?” asked Tommy’s Mum.

“I’m afraid so. There’s no other remedy.”

Tommy’s Mum tried not to look worried.

“It’s a simple operation,” Doctor Dearborn reassured her. “They should be

removed as soon as possible. However with the war on, I’m not sure when

that will be. You leave it with me.”


142

Tommy knew there was a war, and now that the Americans had entered

and were fighting the Japanese and the Germans, he knew that the whole

world was at war.

Tommy also knew an American. His name was Roscoe, and he came from

Chicago, Illinois and he was in the United States Air Force and he flew big

aeroplanes called B29s.

Roscoe had been billeted in Tommy’s house and Tommy liked talking to

Roscoe because Roscoe was able to tell him stories about the time when there

were cowboys and Indians.

Each time Roscoe flew his aeroplane, Tommy, his Mum and his Dad,

prayed for his safe return, in Jesus name.

When Tommy came back from seeing Doctor Dearborn, Roscoe was at

home.

“I have to have my tonsils and adenoids out,” Tommy told him.

Roscoe put down the book he had been reading.

“I’d say that was a good thing,” he said. “After that you’ll be able to

breathe and talk normally again.”

“But will it be sore?”

“You won’t feel a thing. You’ll be unconscious.”

“I won’t be dead?”

“Just sleeping.”

“And I’ll wake up again?”

“Right as rain.”


143

Tommy was quiet for a while.

“I don’t want to have my tonsils and adenoids out, Roscoe.”

“I guess you’re kind of frightened, kid, eh?”

Tommy nodded.

“I get frightened too.”

“You do?”

“Every time I climb into my ’plane I have this awful fear in my stomach.”

“What do you do?”

“I say this prayer: ‘Father God, take care of my crew, bring us home safely

and forgive us our sins in Jesus name. I pray the same thing for all the other

crews then I climb aboard and take off.”

“And you come back?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I should have my tonsils and adenoids out?”

“You’ll feel better when you do.”

“Even though I’m frightened.”

“Even so. I’ll be praying for you.”

All the hospitals were filled with the casualties of war, so it was arranged

that Tommy’s troublesome tonsils would be taken out at home.

Roscoe was not there on the night of Tommy’s operation. He was flying

on a mission over Germany.

Tommy’s Mum had to scrub the wooden kitchen table, which was then

disinfected by the surgical team from the hospital.


144

His Dad carried Tommy to the table. Everyone wore white masks, caps,

and gowns.

“Tommy,” one of the Doctors said. “I’m going to put this mask over your

mouth and nose, and when I do I want you to count to ten. Will you do that

for me?”

Tommy could only nod. His mouth was so dry.

Tommy began counting and he felt something being dropped onto the

mask. Tommy did not know it was chloroform, which would put him to sleep.

Tommy only reached six, then the next thing he knew he was being

carried upstairs and placed on his bed where he fell asleep.

Next day when he wakened his throat felt sore. His Mum gave him a drink

and that felt good.

“Is Roscoe back?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“We prayed for him.”

“We did.”

“He’ll be all right then.”

But Roscoe was reported to be missing in action, and throughout the time

Tommy was being fed on jelly and ice cream there was no word of him.

Tommy asked his Dad if Roscoe was dead.

“I don’t know, Tommy.”

“But he could be?”

“If he is, then he is alive with Jesus and we will see him again.”


145

“I want him to be alive with us here.”

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

Then one day Tommy came home from school and saw an American Air

Force jeep parked outside his house.

He rushed in thinking he’d find Roscoe, but found instead Roscoe’s

Commanding Officer.

“Where’s Roscoe?” he asked.

His Mum was smiling. “He’s alive,” she said. “But he’s a prisoner of

war.”

That night God got different prayers from Tommy’s house. There was

praise to God for Roscoe’s preservation but while Tommy prayed that Roscoe

would escape and make his way back to see him, his Mum and Dad prayed

that Roscoe would stay where he was until the end of the war.

Which in fact was what happened.

When he was freed, Roscoe came to see Tommy before going back to

America.

THE CASE OF THE KIDNAPPED KITTENS. There’s nothing I like better than being with my friends in Tommy’s

garden in the shade of Tree. The butterflies are on the Buddleia and the bees

are so busy with the flowers that the whole garden hums with activity.

I just want to flop over on my side and lie quietly, but of course there is

Honeybunch, the inquisitive.


146

“Basil,” she says, “you’ve got to tell us. What on earth happened to your

poor ear?”

“Maybe Basil doesn’t want to talk about it,” Frivel, her mother, says.

“But he must,” says Honeybunch. “He just can’t come here with his ear

like that and not tell us what happened. Come on, Basil, tell us.”

Honeybunch is also persistent.

I raise myself into a more telling position. I tell them that my master, the

Minister, took me to the vet and the vet shaved my ear and put antibiotic

powder on it to keep it from becoming infected, and then he stuck a plaster on

it.

“But why did you need to have it shaved and plastered?” asked

Honeybunch.

“So that it would get better,” says Toto.

“Let me put it another way,” says Honeybunch. “How did it get bad in the

first place?”

On days like this, I tell them, I really consider giving up being a Private

Investigator, and just settling down to being a pampered house pet. But that

would be like my master giving up the work God has given him to do among

the needy and among those souls who have no faith. Anyway, I’m a

Bloodhound.

So, when Polly the Persian cat came to me in a high state of distress what

could I do but help her?


147

“Someone,” she said, “has kidnapped my five kittens. I’ve searched

everywhere for them, but cannot find them. Help me get them back, Basil.”

“Human beings do that,” I said. “They take kittens away and sell them or

just give them away if they’re not considered to be valuable.”

“But never before they have opened their eyes,” Polly said. “Anyway, the

humans are as upset as I am and they’ve phoned for the police.”

“I think I know who took them,” interrupts Clancy the tabby cat who was

also listening. “Big Tim. He steals pets and returns them for the reward or else

he sells them in a different part of the country.”

“Was it Big Tim?” asks Honeybunch.

“Let Basil tell it his own way,” says Frivel.

“Sorry,” says Honeybunch, “but it was Clancy who interrupted.”

I took the case, I tell them, even though it meant I had to go out into the

cold, dark, mean streets to find Polly’s five kittens.

I started by talking to Polly’s sister, Petunia. She hadn’t seen or heard

anything although she did say that gypsies had called the day before the

kittens’ disappearance.

I arrived at the gypsy camp at the same time as the human policemen.

They questioned Bit Tim and searched his camp thoroughly, but there was not

trace of the kittens. Big Tim denied taking the kittens. I searched the camp

myself in company with a trustworthy gypsy dog, and I felt quite sure that the

kittens weren’t there.


148

On my way back through Orangegrove woods, Maggie Pie wanted to

know who I was looking for. I told her and she said, “Oh, dear,” and told me

she had seen them in the hands of Wally Pole, a thief, whose dog was Mauler

the Mastiff. Everyone knew that Wally Pole stole to order and if something

weren’t done quickly Polly’s kittens would be sold and gone forever.

“When was this?”

“An hour ago,” said Maggie Pie. “On his way home.”

“Maggie,” I said, “Tell Sean and Seamus, the two Irish Wolfhounds, and

Bertie the Bulldog to meet me at Post Office Corner. Quick as you can.”

I wasn’t going to tackle Mauler on his home ground by myself. Where he

lived the buildings were close together and their height blocked out most of

the light so that it was always cold and dark in the alleyways.

We met up as arranged and went to where Mauler lived.

“What do you lot want?” he demanded.

“Polly Persian’s kittens,” I said.

“You can’t have them.”

“They’re alive then?”

“Mr. Pole can’t sell dead kittens.”

“Is your master at home?”

“No,”

“We’re going to take the kittens back to Polly.”

“Mr. Pole will beat me if you do that,” said Mauler, and leaped at me,

snarling.


149

Talk about rough and tumble. He was rough and I took a tumble. More

than one in fact. Then he got his teeth in to my ear and I yelped with pain.

If Sean and Seamus and Bertie hadn’t come to my rescue you’d be calling

me ‘One Lug Basil’ now.

Sean and Seamus subdued Mauler and Bertie and I searched the house and

found the kittens mewing for their mama. We locked Mauler in the house and

took the kittens back to their grateful mother.

“That was good,” says Honeybunch. “Why isn’t everybody good and why

is there cold and darkness and evil?”

“Tree,” says Toto. “We don’t know, can you tell us?”

Tree takes his time considering.

“Well, Tree?” says the impatient Honeybunch.

“Cold,” says Tree. “When human beings experience the absence of heat

they say it is cold. Cold does not actually exist, just the absence of heat.

“Darkness, Tree continues. “When human beings experience the absence

of light they say it is dark.

“Evil,” Tree explains. “Before the humans were disobedient in that first

garden where my ancestor grew, God created everything, and there was

nothing he created that was evil. Everything was good. But after that first

disobedience, human beings had the choice of living either with God or

without God. What human beings call evil is the absence of God in their lives.

“Those who do good,” concluded Tree, “are those who choose to live in

the heat and light and goodness of God who is warmth, and light and love.”


150

WHERE WENT THE DANDELIONS? Tommy and Barbara were out walking.

“Barbara,” Tommy asked. “Have you noticed anything peculiar this

year?”

“Nothing,” Barbara said. “Should I have?”

“There do not seem to be any of those lovely dandelions in the fields or in

the gardens.”

“Dandelions are weeds, Tommy. They’re not lovely, they’re horrible.”

“No they’re not. They’re flowers.”

“Weeds,” Barbara insisted. “And I’m glad there are none in our garden

this year.”

Tommy did not want to argue with Barbara, but he felt he had to say,

“Well, I miss seeing them. I like to see their vivid yellow colour and their

leaves look as if they had notches cut out of them. And when they go to seed

and are blown away by the wind they fly and drop like little parachutes.”

“And where they fall they produce more weeds.”

“A weed is a flower that nobody wants. Wouldn’t you say so?”

“A weed is a weed,” Barbara said.

“I wonder where they have all gone,” Tommy said.

“Just be thankful they have gone. It means more space for real flowers to

grow in.

“But they are real flowers.”

“My mum says they’re weeds, and have to be got rid of.”


151

Tommy said nothing more. They continued their walk in silence. Tommy

still wondered where all the dandelions had gone. They had to be somewhere.

And of course Tommy was right. They were somewhere, but to

understand why they left and where they went, we need to go back in time to a

year ago when God told a dandelion named Donald what wanted the

dandelions to do.

The elders of the Dandelions held a meeting. In fact it was an emergency

meeting for something terrible was happening to the Dandelions who live in

the fields and gardens around Orangegrove woods.

“The human beings,” the chief elder said, “have found yet another method

to exterminate us.”

His announcement caused a great deal of alarm and an anxious chatter

arose among the other elders.

The chief elder called them to order.

“So far they have only been able to poison our leaves, but because our

roots have remained firm, we have been able to overcome their poison and to

produce flowers and seed.

“But now,” the chief elder went on, “now they have found a way to kill

our roots.”

A horrified gasp went up from the other elders.

“Why do they do this to us?” asked one.

“Are we not flowers like any other flower?

“Are we not part of God’s creation?


152

“And did He not say when He rested on the seventh day that all of His

creation was good?”

“Our flowers, are they not as bright as those of other flowers?”

When the elders had ceased their comments, the chief elder said, “Human

beings do not regard us as flowers. They regard us as weeds. By calling us

weeds they make us less than other flowers and they try to destroy us.”

“Even though we are not harmful?”

“Even though we can provide them with salads and with wine?”

“Even so.”

“What can we do to avoid destruction?”

After a great deal of discussion the elders were still at a loss as to what to

do.

A young Dandelion entered the council chamber, approached the chief

elder, spoke quietly to him and then waited.

“It would seem, that Donald Dandelion has something important to say to

us about this matter. Shall we listen to what he has to say?”

There was a chorus of assent and Donald Dandelion was brought in.

“What have you to say to us?” asked the chief elder.

“God has spoken to me,” Donald said.

“Why to him? Why not to some of us?” the elders said to each other.

“Why not to him,” the chief elder said. “God can speak to anyone He

pleases, and especially to those who please Him. What did God say to you

Donald?”


153

“God does not want His Dandelions to become extinct,” Donald said.

“There is a country to which he wishes us to go.”

“And the name of that country?”

“Norway.

“And how are we to get to Norway?”

“God has arranged that with the South West Wind.”

“When? It must be soon before we are all sprayed with this root-killing

poison.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” exclaimed the chief elder. “That is impossible. None of us

has yet flowered, and unless we flower we cannot produce seed, which the

wind can carry. It will be at least a month before we can flower and by that

time it will be too late.”

“God says I am to tell you that it will happen overnight, and that tomorrow

our seed will be safe in Norway.”

“If God says it will be so, then it will be so,” said the chief elder. “But do

the human beings in Norway not consider us to be weeds?”

“Their fields, and gardens, and parks, and mountain pastures glow like the

sun with our kind and there is no hindrance to our growth.”

“It sounds wonderful. Did God say how we must prepare for this exodus

of our seed?”

“We need do nothing,” said Donald. “God will do all that is necessary. We

need only trust and obey.”


154

And so it was that overnight God caused the Dandelions to produce their

flowers and their seeds, and He gave them into the cupped hands of the South

West Wind and all the seeds of the Dandelions were transported to the

mountains and valleys of Norway where they were welcomed to their new life

by the flowers who lived there.

And God caused the human beings of Norway to enjoy the beauty of his

Dandelion creation.

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Tommy and Toto Stories