More Adventures on Willow Farm by Enid Blyton

Author:Enid Blyton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Juvenile, Classics, Juvenile Fiction, Historical, General
ISBN: 9781479454891
Publisher: Dean & Son Ltd
Published: 1993-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

RORY WANTS A DOG

“You know,” said Rory, one day, “we’ve none of us ever had a dog of our own. Isn’t that strange? To think how fond we all are of animals—and yet we’ve never had a dog! I know Davey’s got three—but they’re not really ours, though they come to the farmyard often enough.”

“Well, let’s ask Daddy if we can have a dog,” said Penny eagerly. “A nice little puppy-dog called—called—let me see—called . . .”

“Oh, Penny, let’s get the dog before you find a name for it,” said Rory. So they asked their father at breakfast-time the next day. But he shook his head.

“Three dogs are enough,” he said. “We don’t need any more. Anyway, we’ve enough cats to make up for any amount of dogs!”

That was true. There were dozens of cats about—or so it seemed! At first Penny had been sure she knew them all, but now she felt she didn’t. Kittens appeared in the stables and in the barns, and she loved them and tried to pet them. But they were wild little things, and spat and scratched. Harriet had a cat of her own who lived sedately in the kitchen. He was called Mr. By-Himself, because he wouldn’t mix with the stable cats.

“But, Daddy, a dog is worth a dozen cats,” said Rory. “I’d so love a dog of my own.”

“Well, we’ll see,” said Daddy. “If I hear of a good puppy, I’ll perhaps get it for you.”

But Daddy didn’t seem to hear of one—and it was Benjy who produced a dog after all for Rory! He was going down the lane one day, whistling softly to himself, Scamper on his shoulder, when he thought he heard a little whine from somewhere. Benjy stopped. Scamper leapt down from his shoulder and went to hunt around in the ditch. He found something there and leapt back to Benjy’s shoulder, making tiny barking noises in his ear, as if to say, “Come and see, come and see!”

Benjy went to the ditch and parted the nettles there. Lying among them was a dog, his brown eyes looking beseechingly up at the boy.

“What’s the matter?” said Benjy. “Are you hurt?”

The dog whined. Benjy stamped down the nettles that stung his hands and legs, and tried to lift up the dog. It was a mongrel dog rather like a rough-haired terrier.

“You’ve been run over!” said Benjy pityingly. “Poor creature! I’ll carry you home.”

Benjy knew that it was dangerous to touch hurt animals, for they will turn on anyone, even their owner. But animals always loved the boy, and he was never afraid of them. The dog allowed him to carry it in his arms, and he went down the lane with it, Scamper on his shoulder, peering down at the hurt animal in his bright, inquisitive way.

Benjy took the dog to Rory. “Rory! Look at this poor hurt dog! Wouldn’t you like to have it for your own? I’m sure Daddy wouldn’t say no.”

“But it must already belong to someone!” said Rory.

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