Poppy goes to Whitley Bay
All morning, Mum was scurrying in and out of the house, carrying bags and little bits and bobs out to Betsy. I watched very carefully from my cosy spot, because I know the signs. Then, after lunch, Mum picked up my toys and my favourite cushion. My ears pricked up at once. This could only mean one thing — we were going on an adventure! The last few weeks had been rather difficult. I had hurt my wee leggy, and it’s been awfull sore. Mum and Dad had taken me to nasty vets, and the vet said I had to rest. That meant no running, no jumping, no chasing squirrelsees, and worst of all, no being off the lead. Pure rubbish. Dad carried me out to Betsy, and soon we were on our way. We drove for a long time, leaving Scotland behind and heading down into Englandshire. I knew this road. It was the one we take to the big ferry for our summer holidays. But just before we got there, Betsy turned off the road. I lifted my head and looked around. This was different. A little while later, we stopped at a campsite beside the sea. I sniffed the air. Salt, grass, and adventure. “Whitley Bay, Poppy,” said Mum. Well then, I thought, settling down on my Betsy’s back seat. Whitley Bay it is.
The next day, we were going into town. We left Betsy behind, and Dad gently picked me up and carried me in his arms. When we reached the coastal path, he put me down so I could have a proper sniff about. There were so many interesting smells — salty sea air, fresh grass, and all the pee mails other dogs had left behind. I tried my best to walk, but my poor leg was still sore, so Dad lifted me up again. Then off we went, with me tucked safely in his arms, almost flying along towards Whitley Bay. Poor Dad’s arm was getting rather tired, so we stopped for a little rest. I looked out across the coast and spotted something tall and bright in the distance. “Look, Dad, a lighthouse! Can we go there?” Dad said, “Maybe tomorrow, Poppy.”
Mum and Dad took turns carrying me after that. First Dad, then Mum, then Dad again. On and on we went along the coastal path, with me cuddled safely in their arms and peeking out at everything around me. At last, the path turned a corner, and there it was — the town, spread out beside the sea. I lifted my nose and had a good sniff of the salty air. It looked like a nice beach. Im sure my leg will be better by the time we get there and I can run along it properly.
I was allowed to walk around the town for a little while. There wasn’t a great deal to see, though, so before long we were all on a bus heading back to camp. Some of the people on the bus were very strange, at least to a wee dog who likes to keep an eye on things. I sat quietly and watched them, and I must admit I was quite pleased when they got off. Back at Betsy, the sun was still shining, so I settled myself on the grass and enjoyed the warmth on my fur. Then I spotted the lighthouse again, standing tall in the distance. I looked up at Dad. “Dad,” I thought, very clearly, “remember — you promised.”
After dinner, Mum and Dad settled down to watch television and drink their daft juice, which always smells funny to me. I decided the best place for me was up front, where I could keep watch over the whole campsite. Peoplesees wandered past, doors opened and closed, dogs trotted by with their peoplesees, and lights began to twinkle as the evening settled in. I rested my chin down and watched it all, warm and cosy inside Betsy. Camp life, I thought happily. Bliss.
