Of Lions and Unicorns: A Lifetime of Tales from the Master Storyteller. Michael Morpurgo

      What’s the point in keeping a dog

      and barking myself?”

      Nothing worse than trying to move young calves.

      They’re all tippy-toed and skippy.

      Pretty things.

      Pity they get so big and lumpy when they get older.

      There, done it. Well done, me!

      Back to the end of the lane to meet Lula.

      I’m a bit late. She’s there already,

      swinging her bag and singing.

       “Happy birthday to me,

       happy birthday to me.

       Happy birthday, dear Lula,

       happy birthday to me!”

      For tea there’s a big cake with candles on it,

      and they’re singing that song again.

      Will you look at them

      tucking into that cake!

      And never a thought for me.

      Lula’s so busy unwrapping her presents

      that she doesn’t even notice I’m there,

      not even when I put my head on her knee.

      Car! Car coming up my lane, and not one I know.

      I’m out of the house in a flash.

      I’m not just a farm dog, you know, I’m a guard dog too.

      “Russ! Stop that barking, will you?”

      That’s all the thanks I get.

      I’m telling you, it’s a dog’s life.

      Looks like a horse to me.

      Give him a sniff.

      Yes, definitely a horse.

      Lula goes mad.

      She’s hugging the horse

      just like she hugs me, only for longer.

      A lot longer.

      “He’s beautiful,” she’s saying.

      “Just what I wanted.”

      Well, I’m not staying where I’m not wanted.

      I haven’t had any of that cake,

      and they’re not watching.

      Nip back inside. Jump on a chair.

      I’m a champion chomper.

      Ooops.

      The plate’s fallen off the table.

      I’m in trouble now.

      They all come running in.

      I look dead innocent.

      Doesn’t fool them though.

      “You rascal, you. Out you go!”

      I don’t care. It was worth it.

      I go and sit at the top of the hill

      and tell Smarty all about it.

      He barks back, “Good on you!

      Who wants to be a good dog, anyway?”

      Then Lula’s sitting down beside me.

      “I really love my horse,” she says,

      “but I love you more, Russ. Promise.”

      Give her a good lick. Make her giggle.

      I like it when she giggles.

      Lick her again.

      Lovely.

      

       have been teaching for over twenty years now, mostly around Hoxton, in north London. After all that time I am no longer at all sentimental about children. I don’t think you could be. Twenty years at the chalk face of education gives you a big dose of reality.