The
BOOK of SAM
by
A.E.Hayward
Sam is like any other dog.
Actually now I come to think of it, that's not true, is it? Sam is quite unlike any other dog. Other dogs aren't in books, are they, and Sam is. What I really meant to say is that Sam has features in common with other dogs.
Well, no, that's not true either. Sam's features are his own, and he has never been known to share them with anybody. I mean, he'd look rather silly walking around with no left eyebrow because he'd lent it to the border collie down the road, wouldn't he?
I'll start again.
Sam is quite unlike any other dog, and has no features in common with it. "It" means the other dog. I don't know how the other dog got into this story. To tell the truth this story seems to be going a bit wrong, and I've only just started it. Oh well.
Sam is a little bit like the other dog, because he has four legs and a tail and so has the other dog. The other dog's name is Rover, and Sam doesn't like him much because he keeps trying to take over Sam's stories.
I think I'll go and have a cup of tea.
That's better. Sam chases rabbits.
Almost any evening he could be found in the field beside the front drive, as this was where the rabbits liked to sit and nibble the grass short in the evening sunlight.
Sam's favourite technique was to lurk furtively in the shadow of the bushes at the edge of the field until the rabbits had got nicely settled and were chewing away contentedly, and then burst out, barking as he ran. The headlong rush across the field in full pursuit was most exhilarating, and although Sam had never actually caught a rabbit, he felt every day that this might be the one magic occasion when success would crown his honest endeavours. I never enquired what he would do with the rabbit when he caught it. He probably never thought about it. But there is no doubt that he employed considerable ingenuity in his attempts to do so.
He sometimes tried varying his methods in the hope of catching the rabbits off their guard. Sometimes he tried bursting out and not barking, and sometimes he tried barking and not bursting out. Once he tried not barking and not bursting out either. This was a very restful way of chasing rabbits, but not one likely to be attended by any conspicuous success.
On the particular evening I am thinking of which I am thinking of (whoa, steady!) which was about last Wednesday (or possibly not) Sam set out as usual for his evening's sport. He travelled by easy stages as he didn't want to tire himself out, having had a busy day with rather a lot of nothing in particular to do. He paused on the way to savour the many scents that rested on the evening air; the heavy scent of flowers hot in the sun and redolent of bumble-bees, a hint of Rêve de Souris where Percy had sauntered on her remote and mysterious way, and a curious smell rather like wet newspaper which spoke of 'edge'og's 'umble nocturnal fumblings. Reaching the rabbit field, Sam paused under a rhododendron bush to survey the prospects for the evening's activity.
About halfway across the field a number of rabbits were unconcernedly cropping the grass. Sam took a deep breath and gathered himself together. "This is the life!" he thought, and leapt forward with a great bark. The wind whipped about his ears and the ground pounded beneath his feet as he bore down on the hapless rabbits.
They did not move.
Sam barked again, and thundered on. Still the rabbits ate as if their lives depended on it.
Sam slowed up a little to give them more time, and barked as loudly as he could. Still they nibbled, unaware of his existence.
Sam stopped. The rabbits ate on.
He barked once more, and added a confused growl for good measure. Still nothing happened.
He walked up to the nearest rabbit and nudged it gently. It hopped a couple of hops away from him and began eating again.
Sam followed it, and barked in its ear. It started violently and twitched its ears in opposite directions, but continued to eat.
A rather large, grizzled-looking rabbit detached itself from the group and hopped across to Sam. "Look here," it said mildly, "if it's all the same to you we'd rather not be chased this evening. Thank you."
"Why?" asked Sam. "What's special about today?"
"Nothing," said the rabbit, tearing off a mouthful of grass and spitting out a daisy-head, "we've just decided that we don't like being chased, so we're not going to be, that's all."
Sam sat down. "That's ridiculous!" he said. "You've got to be chased. It's a law of nature. Dogs chase rabbits, rabbits run away. It's as simple as that."
"Not at all," replied the rabbit. "Laws are made to be broken, and we're breaking this one. Being chased is a terrible bore to us, you know. I'm sure you enjoy it, but so far as we're concerned it's just a waste of good eating time. You might as well go home."
Sam stared round him in amazement. Evidently eager to be of assistance, the rabbit continued "Couldn't you chase something else? What about the mutton? I believe that runs quite fast. It's got lots of legs."
"No," said Sam, "it wouldn't be the same. The mutton always runs round and round - very boring. Rabbits run in all different directions at once, which lends a fascinating air of uncertainty and an element of random decision-making to the game. Couldn't just a few of you be chased while the others go on eating?"
"No, I'm afraid not," said the rabbit sadly. "We'd like to help, but we've made up our minds, you see. We call it "Rabbits' Lib". Passive resistance and all that sort of thing. The freedom of the individual and the right to self-expression and peaceful nibbling for all."
And the rabbit smiled sympathetically and moved off, nibbling as it went.
Sam went and had a little sit down to think about this new development, feeling as if his whole world had been turned upside down. The more he thought about it, the more angry he became. Who did these rabbits think they were? Refusing to be chased, indeed! He'd soon see about that! Was he not the dog who put Percy to flight? Had he not resolved that when in doubt the thing to do was to chase someone up a tree? Right then!
He walked briskly up to the grizzled rabbit.
"Look here, you!" he snapped. "This is just not on, you know! I won't stand for it! I shall chase you whether you like it or not, so start running!"
"Shan't!"
"Come on, get moving, or I'll …. I'll …"
"You'll what?" asked the rabbit, looking at him with interest.
"I'll … I'll … I'll bite you!" said Sam with sudden inspiration. The rabbit turned towards him and moved a little closer.
"If you do," it said in measured tones, "we'll kick you in the ear. There's more of us than there are of you. Might is right. Freedom for the proletariat!"
Sam looked around him, no longer quite so sure of himself. All the other rabbits were regarding him calmly. It was true, there were more of them - about twenty, in fact, with rather large back legs. Sam counted himself in case he might have gained some reinforcements, but he hadn't. Sam was at a loss.
"Look," he said, "couldn't we compromise? I'll only chase you every other day, something like that?"
"No."
"Every third day?"
"No."
"Once a week?"
"Not at all. You might as well face it. United we stand, divided we fall. You've got the Rabbits' Liberation Front to deal with now. Organised labour is invincible."
Sam tried a new tack. "But I've got a job to do - to stop you from eating all this grass. It isn't your grass, it belongs to everybody. What right have you got to eat it all?"
"You can have some if you like."
"Dogs don't eat grass, you know that."
"Then what are you complaining about?"
With that, the rabbits resolutely turned their backs on Sam and began to eat again. There was nothing Sam could do but retreat gracefully. "I'll retire and regroup," he thought. "Of all the ingratitude! After all I've done for them! Think of all the healthy exercise I've given them. I expect in their hearts of hearts they enjoy it, really."
Sam badly needed to talk to someone, so it was fortunate that as he made his way back through the rhododendrons he came upon 'edge'og, snuffling through the dead leaves.
"Tell me, 'edge'og, do you slugs run away from you all right?" he asked.
"Run away? Run away?" said 'edge'og. "Acourse they runs away. You ain't never 'eard of no slug stand an' make a fight of it, 'ave you? Mind you, it don't do 'em much good, does it, on account of they can't run very fast, can they?"
"But has it ever occurred to you," persisted Sam, "that slugs might object to being eaten?"
"Object? Acourse they objects! Very objectionable creatures, is slugs. That's why I eats 'em."
"Is it?"
"Well, it wouldn't be the taste, would it? They tastes 'orrible!" And 'edge'og turned and snuffled off.
"Everyone in this book seems to turn and walk off just as the conversation is getting interesting," thought Sam. "What worries me is, suppose Percy gets to hear of it? She'll be insufferable. And if she takes it into her head to refuse to be chased up trees, where will my masculine pride and machismo be then? She's got jolly sharp claws, too."
Just then Sam's heart sank as he caught a whiff of Rêve de Souris. It was closely followed by Percy. She was smiling in a rather nasty way.
"Well, if it isn't my butch friend," she said with a sneer, manoeuvring herself so that she was within reach of a tree. "Aren't you supposed to be down on the field chasing rabbits? Or are the rabbits chasing you, perhaps?"
Sam thought furiously. Did she know? Had she seen?
"Actually," he said slowly, "no. I'm not chasing rabbits this evening. In fact … I've given it up! I've decided it isn't fair to keep chasing people just because I'm bigger and stronger and faster than they are. It is incumbent on us all in the modern world to explore new relationships and find new ways of living together in peace and harmony. So I've stopped acting aggressively. I'm going to be friends with everyone, and … do my own thing, man."
Percy looked at him in astonishment, then relaxed. "Well," she said, licking a paw, "I'm delighted to hear it. It's about time that people like you began to …"
"Mind you," said Sam, "that doesn't apply to CATS!" and leapt forward with a bark.
When Percy had reached the safety of the tree, Sam dug around the trunk a little, and watered it nonchalantly as a parting shot. "Peace and love, sister," he said, and went home feeling better.
"The Book of Sam" by A.E.Hayward © 1975 Alfred Hayward
This web page © 2007 Alfred Hayward
Site maintained by PlainSite