Mr Dog wandered through the woodland that ran alongside the river. At first, the water in the river had been salty and no good to drink. But in the middle of that first night, it had started to rain hard. Thunder had crackled through the darkness. Mr Dog huddled under a tree and watched the rainwater stream from fleshy leaves. He lay on his back, opened his mouth and rolled about from side to side, drinking his fill and enjoying his freedom.
The storm didn’t stop until well into the next morning. The sky looked heavy, weighed down with grey clouds. Mr Dog continued his journey. Happily, he walked along the waterlogged riverbank. The river split in two, with one branch twisting out of sight to the east, while a wider branch wound round to the west. Mr Dog decided that west was best, and off he went.
Around lunchtime, he met a fisherman who was sitting at the side of the river. From the looks of things he hadn’t caught any fish, and he was gloomily eating a ham sandwich.
Mr Dog danced on his back legs in the hope of a donation, but the fisherman ignored him, and so he went on his way. ‘Can’t win them all,’ he told himself, and trotted onwards as the sun moved steadily through the sky.
Late that afternoon, Mr Dog saw a gannet about to eat a fish. ‘I say,’ he called, ‘I don’t suppose any of you birds have seen a seal about?’
The bird stopped to consider. ‘I saw something like a fat grey sausage swimming up the river …’ But then another bird swooped in and stole the fish, and the gannet took off to give chase. The conversation was over.
As it grew dark, Mr Dog settled for the night in a cosy patch of woodland and was up again at dawn. For a while, he followed a railway line that ran alongside the river, but then a heavy goods train came rumbling by, letting off smelly fumes, so Mr Dog returned to the riverbank. Much to his annoyance, he found bits of plastic wrapping caught in the reeds there. The mother gannet on the beach had said that the floods a while back had made more plastic appear … but how?
‘Another mystery,’ he murmured. Quickly, he dug a hole in the wet earth and buried the plastic out of the way.
The rain started again that afternoon and came down harder and harder. Mr Dog continued his journey along the river, as it widened here and grew thinner there, until evening fell. Wet and cold, he retreated into the woodland that ran along the riverbank for cover and thought longingly of the kennel at John Tregeen’s house. He heard the lonely clank and rattle of a train trundling through the night, and as the echoes faded he heard a stranger noise. It was a sort of grunting bark, but in no dog language that he recognised.
‘Whatever is making that noise?’
Mr Dog’s curiosity led him back out into the downpour. The grunting and squealing sounded more urgent, like someone was in distress. The noise was coming from beyond the forest, somewhere along the river. Mr Dog hurried out from the bracken and nettles to investigate.
‘Hello?’ he howled.
A reply rose over the echoes of his call: ‘Over here!’ It was a high, throaty voice. ‘I’m stuck!’
The sky had darkened. Lightning flashed, unleashing the thunder’s crackle and roar. The rain rang down on the shimmering river. Mr Dog shook water from his fur and pressed on along the riverbank. ‘Keep calling! I’ll find you …’
Soon he saw something wriggling on the riverbank: a sleek, smooth figure, bundled in blubber. The animal was dark grey with wide black eyes and looked tired and scared. Two stubby webbed flippers, with a claw on each tiny toe, waggled helplessly from its chest. There were bristly whiskers across the snout that pushed out from its face. The animal was struggling, as if in some invisible embrace.
‘Aha – a seal!’ cried Mr Dog. ‘Found you at last.’
‘A dog!’ cried the animal in surprise, sliding slowly back into the water. ‘Why are you looking for me?’
‘Because you’ve been missing! Ditzy, isn’t it? I’m so happy to find you!’
‘Ditzy?’ The seal’s eyes widened further. ‘Oh, no, no, no. I’m not Ditzy. I’m called Lulu. Ditzy’s my friend. I’ve been looking for her.’
‘Have you indeed? Well, that makes two of us.’ Mr Dog remembered the gannets saying some seabirds had sighted a small grey seal inland – it must have been Lulu that they’d seen! ‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, Lulu. My name is Mr Dog.’
‘Hello, Mr Dog,’ said Lulu. ‘Are you a friend of Ditzy’s too?’
‘I’m a friend to any animal in trouble,’ Mr Dog declared, ‘including you. Now, whatever’s wrong?’
‘I’m caught! Snagged! Stuck!’ Lulu wriggled again. ‘I was chasing a fish when I got tangled in something, and now I can’t get out!’
‘Let’s have a look,’ said Mr Dog.
As he approached, Lulu struggled again to pull herself further up on to the riverbank. Mr Dog could see there was something thin and red digging into the fat dark-grey sausage of the seal’s body just beneath the water, holding her back. ‘That looks like a net,’ he concluded. ‘A bit of broken fishing net.’
‘It’s caught on something,’ Lulu gasped. ‘I’m totally stuck. Fixed. Grounded.’
‘Let me see what I can do.’ Mr Dog took a breath and then drove his nose into the water. The net looked to be tangled round something sticking out from the riverbed. He bit at the plastic strands, trying to slice through the tough fibres, and tugged at them with his claws.
Ouch! he thought, getting nowhere.
Lightning flashed again and the rain fell harder still. Panting for breath, Lulu lay still on her side, only her head free of the river. ‘What am I going to do?’
Mr Dog didn’t answer. If the river continues to swell like this, poor Lulu will be trapped underwater, he thought, and seals can’t live without air to breathe. He thrust his chops down into the water again and chewed at the netting. If I can’t set Lulu free, she’ll drown!
