Sam and I had decided to take a trip to Fishguard and he had packed his bags in next-to-no-time. He believed in travelling light, so his gear weighed somewhat less than mine. I saw that he had brought an old slipper and a large pig’s ear.
Giving him baked pig’s ears as treats went against my vegetarian beliefs, but the consumption of meat was one thing on which Sam and I disagreed and he had long since insisted on his daily diet of tripe and beef. I could hardly argue with his philosophy that we must each follow our own star. Sam’s philosophies always seemed somehow to be beyond argument.
Because he gazed at me pleadingly I relaxed a rule and let him sit beside me in the Shogun. Sam had never taken to being treated like a dog and banished to the back, despite having more room there than at the front with me. It was a question of principle, I think … along with the fact that he had always been partial to travelling with one paw on my knee!
Sitting in the front, with his seat-belt firmly fastened, Sam looked every inch a person – until passing pedestrians or motorists peered closer and discovered to their astonishment that they were in fact seeing a Samson.
It was a perfect morning for our drive to Pembrokeshire. Crossing first to north Gower, our route took us through leafy lanes beneath an azure sky. My heart felt light and Sam’s paw on my knee felt protective as well as loving. What could be better than setting off with him on another adventure?
From Llanelli we went via Burry Port and Kidwelly to Carmarthen, after which it was the A40 to Haverfordwest and on to our destination.
With Sam acting as navigator upon arrival in Fishguard (his nose being more reliable than my map-reading) we soon found the farm where we were to stay. Built of stone and set in a sheltered hollow away from sea-winds, it was a traditional farmhouse with a warm welcome waiting. Mrs Gilbert ushered us in talking nineteen-to-the-dozen and we were soon meeting some of her residents, including several donkeys and a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig. Naturally Sam knew better than to mention to him the pig’s ear he had eaten on our journey.
I too had eaten en route so after being shown to our cosy room there was no need to delay before setting off for pastures new. I had seen a signpost to Strumble Head and this very definitely beckoned, especially after Mrs G mentioned the seals and dolphins in residence, along with puffins, guillemots, razorbills, fulmars and many others. I had once read how the northern fulmar defended itself against intruders – by squirting stinking oil, produced from its stomach, over them! Perhaps if Sam were subjected to this treatment his fascination with birds would cease. Perhaps, on the other hand, it would increase!
We drove onto the Head, which was as wild and rugged as any headland we had visited. Parking near the lighthouse I opened the car door, only to have it almost blown off its hinges by the wind. It might be summer elsewhere but this coast was being well and truly buffeted. How rocky it was – how spectacular! And there were staggering views across Cardigan Bay and St George’s Channel. There were also sea birds seemingly everywhere. Could I see an albatross in the far distance? No, but it was one of the few birds that I could not see!
For obvious reasons I kept Sam securely on-lead. How he longed to be free! But he made the best of things and, in between gazing skywards and wishing, found some simply delicious sniffs. We walked for miles along that incredible coastline and worked up hearty appetites that we satisfied later in an ancient inn. After such an extensive buffeting, and with so much good food inside me, once my head hit the pillow I knew nothing till morning.
Sam and I were awoken by a ‘cock-a-doodle-do’. This was a sound I often heard at home, but not from so close. We also had peacocks in Pennard and it had taken me quite a while to establish the source of their rather raucous talk. The cockerel was telling Sam and me in no uncertain terms that it was time to get up and have breakfast.
But I had forgotten to mention that I was a vegetarian. I soon saw my error when Mrs G proudly put in front of me a plate containing two eggs, fried bread, grilled tomatoes, several sizzling bacon rashers, kidneys and sausages. Too late to tell her now! I couldn’t bear to see that beaming smile fade from her face. So I’d have to think of some alternative, enlisting the help of someone sitting not too far from me – someone who might not be averse to a sausage or three.
Sam showed no aversion as I slid the kidneys under the table, quickly following these with rashers of bacon. In fact, there was considerable danger of our hostess hearing him gobbling and licking his lips. But she didn’t, so once the sausages had cooled a little I gave these to him too in quickly digestible chunks. And from beneath the tablecloth I saw him gazing soulfully at me as if in love!
Bringing me toast and more tea and clearing my commendably empty plate away, Mrs G commented how she liked a hearty appetite, adding: “I haven’t forgotten Sam, no indeed. I hope he’s fond of sausages because I’ve saved him these three!”
Copyright: Pamela Glynn
Paw note: ‘I was too gentlemanly to tell on mum so I just had to have a second breakfast. And I didn’t complain, even when I felt I might be getting tummy ache. How’s that for devoted selflessness?’
I think it was probably writing stories about Sam years ago for the Southern Counties Bearded Collie Club’s ‘Beardie Times’ that gave me the confidence to move on to novels. I’m now a published author, often exploring spirituality and/or the elusive nature of Time. I’ve recently completed two e-books, the first of which follows a baby bird along his most unusual path to maturity. This can be read on two levels – simply as an adventure, or also as a journey toward personal development – and can be accessed via the link: dustysjourney.com dustysjourney.com
(10% of proceeds from sales go to support animal charities worldwide)
The Portrait (a love story across time) can be found at: pglynn.co.uk pglynn.co.uk
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