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Mungo knelt in the dirt,
weeding his flower garden. The tulips and daffodils were beautiful this
year. He felt the tulip petals. They were soft, like silk, and the
brightest red tulips he’d seen in his garden. The sun was lowering
quickly. Already its rays lined the clouds with gold. Ginger, his cat,
came sauntering towards him. She’d been out running through the hills,
chasing mice. He loved Ginger and showed her by stroking her as she walked
past. "Time to go inside and get ready for the bairns. They’ll soon be
here," he said. Mungo picked the cat up and carried her into the house. "I
hate to lock you in the bedroom every week, but it’s the way it has to
be," he said, chasing her into the room and shutting the door.
DING DONG! "And so it
begins," Mungo smiled. He opened the door and looked down. There stood wee
Hamish, wee Fiona, Andy, Gavin and Gregor. "Come in bairns," Mungo said.
"Where’s Morag?"
"She’s sick today," Gregor
said. "Her mum called my mum and told her."
"I’m sorry to hear that,"
Mungo said.
"I’m not," mumbled Gavin.
"I don’t want Morag to be
sick," whined wee Fiona. "I like her. She’s my friend."
"I’m sure she’ll be well
soon. Today I am going to tell you a story. There have been a lot of
things happen today that made me think of this one," Mungo said.
"They weren’t bad things,
were they?" Andy asked.
"No, not really. Why don’t
you bairns help yourselves to a snack? I’m going to let Ginger out of the
bedroom. It’s time she joined us, don’t you think?" he asked.
"Yes, let Ginger come and
be with us," wee Fiona said.
"I’ll let her out, but
please, just ignore her. If she comes near you, its all right to pet her
though," Mungo told them. He got up and walked to the bedroom to let her
out. When he came back through, he noticed that the bairns weren’t eating
their snacks. "What’s the matter? Is nobody hungry tonight?"
"It’s fruit," sighed Gregor.
"Fruit isn’t a real snack."
"What? Of course it is.
Fruit is delicious. Look here, you’ve got apples, red and green ones,
oranges, bananas, grapes, and plums. Just taste one," Mungo urged.
"I like fruit," Andy said;
reaching for some plump, juicy, green grapes. "These are good," he said,
popping another in his mouth.
Soon the others followed
his lead and were eating the fruit. "Let’s begin our story," Mungo said.
"A long time ago, over one hundred years, there was a dog named Bobby. He
was a Skye terrier. Do any of you know what those look like?" Mungo asked.
"No," they all said, their
mouths full of fruit.
"I happen to have a photo
of one. Look here," Mungo said, opening an encyclopedia. "This is a Skye
terrier."
"That’s a cute dog," wee
Fiona said.
"It’s got lots of hair,"
Gregor added.
"Yes, it is a cute dog.
Bobby was a cute dog. He lived in the country, just a few miles outside of
Edinburgh. A wee lass owned him. He liked to wander around and visit the
neighbors. Sometimes they’d feed him bits of roast beef or give him a
bone. One man, named Old Jock, was particularly nice to Bobby. Every time
Bobby came by, Jock petted him and fed him good food. Jock spent a lot of
his time tending sheep. Bobby loved to chase the sheep and helped Jock
take care of them. Bobby spent more time with Jock than he did with the
wee lass.
"One day Jock moved to
Edinburgh. He was getting very old and it was too hard for him to live by
himself and take care of the farm. Bobby ran over to visit him and he
wasn’t there, so Bobby ran all the way to Edinburgh and searched for Jock.
He ran up and down the streets, looking everywhere for him. Finally, he
found him," Mungo said.
"I’m glad he found him.
Bobby loved Old Jock, just like Ginger loves you," Gavin said.
"You’re right, Bobby loved
him and Ginger does love me."
"What about the wee lass
that owned Bobby. Didn’t she miss him?" Gregor asked.
"The lass knew that Bobby
loved Jock. When he ran away, she didn’t know where he was. She never went
to Edinburgh. Her mum bought her a new puppy and she was happy with that.
Now, when Bobby found Jock, he sensed that there was something very wrong
with him. He knew that Jock was sick. Instead of running back to the
country, he stayed right by Jock the whole time. After a few days, Jock
died," Mungo said, a sad expression crossed his face.
"Oh no," cried wee Fiona.
"I don’t want Jock to die. What will Bobby do without him?"
"Me neither. I want Jock to
live," whined wee Hamish.
"This was a long time ago,
bairns. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Jock was very old and
sick. It was his time to die. Bobby started to bark. He wanted to let some
of the people who lived nearby that Jock had died. He didn’t want Jock to
lay out in the dark. Someone from a boarding house heard Bobby. They came
down to see what he was barking about and found poor old Jock. Bobby was
sad. He whined and whimpered all night long when they took Jock’s body
away. When it was time to bury him, Bobby walked with the funeral
procession all the way to the grave at Greyfriar’s Cemetery. Some people
called it a kirkyard. It means a cemetery on church grounds."
"Poor Bobby," sighed Andy.
"Bobby wanted to stay by
Jock’s grave but they wouldn’t let him. The cemetery caretaker chased him
away. Bobby snuck back in every single night and stayed by Jock’s grave.
Some of the neighbors saw him and started feeding him and giving him
drinks of water. They thought it was wonderful to see that Bobby loved
Jock so much that he stayed with him, even after he had passed away,"
Mungo told the bairns.
"How long did he stay
there?" Gavin asked.
"He stayed by Jock’s grave
until he died. That was fourteen years later."
"Fourteen years? Bobby
stayed on the grave for fourteen years?" Gavin said, surprised.
"Yes. He loved Jock that
much. There’s a wee statue in Edinburgh of Bobby, the Skye terrier. If
your mums and dads ever take you there, go and see the statue and remember
Bobby."
"I wonder if Ginger would
stay by your grave?" asked Gregor.
"Cats are very different
from dogs. I don’t think she would. It doesn’t happen too often. If it
did, then it wouldn’t be that special, would it?" Mungo said. "Bairns,
finish your fruit. I am going to give each of you a piece of paper and
some crayons. I want you to draw me a picture of Greyfriar’s Bobby." He
got up and gathered the paper and passed them out to all the bairns. For
the next hour they drew pictures of the dog. Some of them added Jock and
others drew pictures of the statue. Mungo had shown them a photo of that
too. "These are lovely pictures you’ve drawn. Take them home and put them
on your wall and when you look at it, remember wee Bobby."
DING DONG! The parents
arrived to pick up their bairns. "Would one of you please tell Morag that
we missed her?" Mungo asked.
Just then, wee Fiona walked
back to Mungo. "I’m going to take Morag my picture of Bobby and tell her
the story."
Mungo wiped the tear from
his eye. "That’d be nice, lass, very nice." He gave her a big hug and she
ran back to her mum.
That night as Ginger lay on
Mungo’s lap, he petted her and was very thankful to have her. He thought
of Greyfriar’s Bobby and hugged Ginger tightly. He held her for a long
time, until he fell asleep in his chair.
Perhaps you can help save this breed?
Read a wee article about
this endangered species here
We also have a complete book about him |
