Poppy Bags St Mary’s Island
Mr Sun was already high in the sky, shining down as if he had been up for hours. But Mr Wind was out to play too, and he was up to his usual tricks, tugging at ears, ruffling fur, and trying to push everyone this way and that. Dad took the first turn carrying me along the path, and I kept my nose busy as we went. The closer we got to the lighthouse, the more peoplesees there were, all wandering about and looking at the sea. Come on, Dad, I thought. Let’s get to the lighthouse. And when we finally arrived — oh my goodness. Smells everywhere. Big smells, little smells, old smells, new smells, sea smells, dog smells, and mystery smells I had never sniffed before. Even Mr Wind, with all his huffing and puffing, could not blow them away.
We plodded around slowly, exploring every inch of the place. I sniffed low, I looked high, and Mum and Dad stopped every so often to take in the view. From each side, the lighthouse seemed a little different — tall and white against the sky, then bright against the sea, then peeking over the rocks as Mr Wind danced round our feet. Just as we came back towards the way we had arrived, I spotted something far off across the coast. My ears lifted. “Look, Dad!” “You can see Betsy from here!”
Back at camp, Mr Wind must have grown bored and gone off to play somewhere else. The air was calm now, and Mr Sun was still warming everything nicely. I spent most of the afternoon outside on the cool grass, stretching out my paws and sunbathing. The grass felt lovely beneath me, the sun felt warm on my fur, and Betsy was close by if I needed a snooze. It was exactly the sort of afternoon a tired explorer deserves.
By the time day turned into evening, I was very tired indeed. All that sea air, all those smells, and bagging a new island had quite worn me out. I climbed up to my favourite spot at the front of Betsy, curled myself into a cosy little shape, and let my eyes grow heavy. Island bagging, I thought as I drifted off to sleep, is very hard work for a wee dog.
