Presa Loves Walkies

Presa loves walkies. He loves short walks. He loves long walks. And he always gets excited when Peach puts on her boots and reaches for his lead.

One afternoon, he is lying beside the big blue door. Peach picks up one boot. Presa lifts his head. Peach picks up the other boot. Presa stands up.

“Do you think somebody would like a walk?” she asks.

His tail goes thump, thump, thump against the door.

“I thought so.”

Peach clips on his lead and opens the big blue door. Out they go into the sun.

The sky is blue. A little bird goes tweet. Lavender brushes against Peach’s leg as they walk down the garden path.

Behind them comes a soft pitter-patter. Little Pip the kitten is coming too. He slips through the gate and stops to sniff a stone. Then he hurries after them.

Plod, plod, plod go Presa’s big paws.

A leaf falls from a tree. Pip crouches low. His tail twitches.

Then—pounce! He lands with both front paws on the leaf.

“Well caught, Pip,” says Peach.

Presa stops beside the stone wall. There are so many things to sniff. A crack between the stones. A tuft of grass. A stick. Peach waits patiently.

“Is that an interesting stick, Presa?” says Peach.

He sniffs it once more. Then off they go.

His shadow stretches all the way across the path. It is a big, big shadow. But Pip’s is so small that you can barely see it.

Then Presa suddenly stops. His ears go up. What is that sound? Pip stops too. They listen carefully. It sounds like crying. It is crying!

Peach follows Presa around the corner. There, by the gate, sits little Sofia. Tears run down her face. Oh no. What is wrong?

Peach sits down next to her.

“There, there, Sofia,” she says. “What has happened?”

Sofia wipes her eyes.

“I have lost my basket,” she says. “My basket of fruit. I was picking it for Mummy. I put it down, and now it is gone!”

Presa stands close beside Peach. Sofia reaches out and rests her hand on his shoulder.

“What was in your basket?” Peach asks.

“Red apples,” says Sofia. “And plums. And three fat pears. And a flower on top.”

She looks at her empty hands. “I chose the flower especially for you, Peach.” A big tear drips down onto her shoe.

Peach takes a clean handkerchief from her pocket.

“Here you are. We’ll figure it out together.”

Sofia wipes her cheeks. But where should they look?

Presa lowers his big head. His nose moves over the ground beside the gate.

Sniff, sniff, sniff. What can Presa smell?

He sniffs the gatepost. He sniffs the grass. Then he begins to walk.

“I think Presa would like to help,” says Peach. “Shall we go with him?”

Sofia stands up. Off they go, Presa with his nose to the ground. Past the tree. Past the stone wall. Pip follows behind.

“Sofia,” says Peach, “where did you have your basket last?”

Sofia thinks hard.

“I carried it along this path. It was heavy, so I stopped.”

“Near the tree?” Peach asks.

“Perhaps.”

They look behind the tree. No basket. They look in the long grass. No basket.

Pip puts his head into a gap in the wall.

“Can you see it, Pip?” Sofia asks.

Out comes his head with a dry piece of grass stuck to it. Peach gently brushes it away.

“No basket in there either.”

Sofia’s shoulders drop.

“What if we cannot find it?”

“We still have places to look,” says Peach. “Come along. Let’s try a little further.”

Presa walks straight through a puddle.

Splish, splash, splosh!

Pip walks around it. Sofia watches his careful paws.

“He doesn’t want wet feet.”

“I don’t blame him,” says Peach, looking down at her boots. Presa has splashed them too.

Beyond the puddle, he stops again. Sniff, sniff, sniff. What can Presa smell?

Sofia bends down beside the path.

“There!”

Something red lies beneath a leaf. She picks it up. An apple!

“Is that one of yours?” asks Peach.

Sofia turns it over.

“This one has a funny little bump. I remember!”

She holds it close. “And I remember where I stopped. There was a butterfly on a flower. I put my basket down to look.”

“What sort of flower?”

“A purple one. Beside a bush.”

They look along the path. There is a bush near the wall. And beside it grows a purple flower. Presa’s nose is already pointing that way. Sniff, sniff, sniff. What can Presa smell?

He pushes his nose beneath the low branches.

Then— WOOF!

One big bark. His tail wags fast. He has found something!

Peach holds back a branch. Sofia crouches down and looks.

There it is! The basket full of fruit!

“Oh, Presa!”

Sofia reaches for the handle and carefully pulls it out.

They check inside. The red apples. The plums. One fat pear. Two fat pears. Three fat pears. And the flower, too.

Sofia puts the fallen apple back. “Now everything is here.”

“Well done, Presa,” says Peach, giving him a pat.

Sofia wraps her arms around his big neck.

“Thank you. You clever dog.”

Presa’s tail goes swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.

Sofia chooses a red apple.

“This one is for you.”

Presa gives it a sniff. Pip gives it a sniff too.

“We’ll cut it up at home,” says Peach. “Let’s go and have some tea before you take the fruit home to your mummy.”

Sofia nods. This time, she holds the basket tightly with both hands. Then they walk back to the cottage together.

The sun is low. The sky is turning pink. Peach opens the big blue door.

Soon there is tea for everyone. Peach cuts the apple and gives Presa a few pieces.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Sofia gives Peach the flower.

“This is for you.”

“Thank you, Sofia.” Peach puts it in a small jug on the table.

Then Sofia looks down.

“Where’s Pip?”

He isn’t beneath the chair. He isn’t beside the door. A quiet purr comes from the basket.

Pip is fast asleep beside the pears.

Sofia sits on the rug next to Presa and strokes his warm back.

What a good walk! A lost basket, found. A sad friend, happy again.

Presa stretches out his paws and closes his eyes.

Until our next adventure...

And remember... You are kind. You are brave. You are loved.