“We’re still coming!” said Benny.

“We’re on our way, don’t worry!” said Bjornita.

“Yes, nearly ther— Hang on, where are you lot going?”

“Sausages, sausages, sausages,” said Trotsky. But they were already well past the tortoises.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” said Bjornita, beginning to turn round. “They’re heading for the horses!”

It took a little while for all the animals to get to the horse field. Trotsky was there first, followed by Zsa-Zsa. Then the Dollys arrived, but they didn’t stop and carried on running past, quite a long way. Trotsky ran after them, shouting, “Come back, come back!” but – possibly because the sheep didn’t speak dog – they just carried on running away. Eventually he had to run past them and herd them back to where they were meant to be.

Luckily, this meant that Ludwig and Mabel and indeed Malcolm had enough time to catch up, arriving just as the sheep came back. Malcolm himself had found it difficult to keep up, as he was only a piglet, with tiny little piglet legs (carrying quite a fat little piglet body).

Ludwig stopped and surveyed the scene. Malcolm tried to see as best he could, above the fence posts. He thought he could make out, through the wire and grass, five horses in there – two brown, two black and one white.

“Right, Fatty Bum-Bum!” said Ludwig. “What we need to do is—”

“Please don’t call me Fatty Bum-Bum.”

“No, but I have explained to you that I am trying to make you embrace your pigginess.”

“And I’ve explained to you: I’m a boy. Called Malcolm. That’s why we’re here, by the horses. Isn’t it? You’ve got a plan to get me back to my human parents …”

There was quite a long pause after this, while Ludwig coughed and snuffled and looked around. Eventually, Mabel said:

“I think he’s right, Ludwig.”

“All right, Mabel. No need to rub it in.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” said Zsa-Zsa, “the oh-so-clever pig, the cleverest of all the animals, got confused!”

“Shut up, cat! Right. OK. Let’s start again. Ahem. So …” Ludwig took a deep breath. Then he let it out again. “Look, can I call you Fatty Bum-Bum anyway? It’s such a nice name.”

“Malcolm.”

Ludwig sighed, with a sense of ‘you don’t know what you’re missing’. “So … Malcolm,” he said. “Here’s my plan. You go to sleep. You wake up as a horse. Then you run home to your parents.”

Trotsky and the Dollys made admiring noises³⁵ about this plan.

Mabel sighed with love and awe. Even Zsa-Zsa looked impressed. And she – like all cats – never looked impressed.

“Yes. It’s a good idea,” said Malcolm, choosing not to mention that he’d thought of it ages ago. “OK. I’ll give it a try.”

And with that, he rolled on to his side, put a hoof under his head, and shut his eyes.