Mr Dog and the Rabbit Habit

by Ben Fogle

  Socks drooped his ears. ‘Yes. All right. You can rely on me.’

  ‘I know,’ Mr Dog said before smiling and nudging Socks towards the bunnies. Then he got up on his back legs and banged his front paws against the door of the lean-to, rattling it as hard as he could. The bolts held, but the noise was like a gun firing, and the rabbits inside gave a chorus of nervous squeaks.

  Come on, Hussan, thought Mr Dog. You’ve got to investigate this …

  Sure enough, Hussan soon appeared, poking his head out from one of the buildings. He hurried towards the lean-to, and Mr Dog quickly ran and hid behind it. Good man, he thought. For all you know, whatever made that noise is inside …

  With relief, he heard the scrape of the bolts and the wooden door creak open. The squeaking of dozens of rabbits filled the air as Hussan went inside.

  Mr Dog reappeared from hiding and looked over to where Socks was waiting worriedly with Shoe, Flip-Flop and Sneaker. ‘Good luck!’ he whispered.

  Then he turned back to the door and barked as loudly as he could.

  Hussan immediately came outside again, frowning at the sight of Mr Dog. Mr Dog charged towards him and jumped up enthusiastically, pushing Hussan backwards before springing away to sit in the doorway, tongue hanging out, panting.

  ‘What the …?’ said Hussan. ‘It’s you again. The stray dog from yesterday!’

  Mr Dog woofed and ran away from the lean-to, hoping with all his heart that Hussan would not bolt the door before he followed. To make doubly sure, Mr Dog ran over to the snack van, stood on his hind legs and scrabbled at the door handle.

  ‘Oh no you don’t!’ Hussan said warningly.

  I’m rather afraid I do! thought Mr Dog as the door swung open and he dived inside. He’ll come after me all the more if I’ve got something he wants … He used a combination of paws and jaws to force open the little fridge inside and quickly bit into a long string of sausages. That’ll do, he thought. Distracting and delicious!

  ‘Got you!’ came a man’s booming voice behind him. Hussan stood in the doorway with one of the big rabbit nets, ready to hurl it over Mr Dog …

  Chapter Nine

  RABBIT TREASURE

  Desperately, Mr Dog lunged forward with the sausages. Then he darted through Hussan’s legs before the net could entangle him. He ran out into the courtyard, galloping like a racehorse – heading straight for the crate Hussan had placed over the hole. At the last possible second, he veered away and struck the crate with his shoulder. The jolt sent pain searing through Mr Dog’s side, but while the impact was enough to shift the crate sideways a little, it wasn’t enough to uncover the hole.

  ‘What on earth has he got in that box?’ Mr Dog groaned, snaffling one of the sausages for strength. He saw that Hussan was coming for him again with a face like thunder. This time Mr Dog darted behind him and circled him, trailing the string of sausages from his mouth. As Hussan tried to change direction, his legs tangled in the sausage lasso and he tumbled against the crate, knocking it over!

  Mr Dog abandoned the sausages and hared away back to the lean-to, panting wildly, making for the still open door. He saw that the space inside was filled with large hutches one on top of another and each containing four or five rabbits. Socks had hopped up on to a bag of grain to reach a second-floor hutch, and Shoe, Flip-Flop and Sneaker were scrambling up to join him to get closer to …

  Mother Rabbit!

  Mr Dog’s heart soared with happiness. There she was, pressed up against the bars of her hutch, while three other rabbits stuck inside with her watched on in puzzlement.

  ‘My bunnies!’ cried Mother Rabbit. ‘All three of you!’

  ‘And Socks!’ said Shoe, jumping up and down.

  ‘Yes, don’t forget him!’ squeaked Flip-Flop, and Sneaker nodded.

  ‘Mr Dog!’ Mother Rabbit’s eyes lit up still further. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you. You kept your word. You’ve brought us back together.’

  ‘Very nearly.’ Mr Dog could see there was no way the bunnies could get into their mother’s hutch. ‘Allow me to finish the job!’ He jumped nimbly on to the sack of grain and forced his head against the lid of the rabbit hutch, opening it a little way. ‘Sneaker, Shoe, Flip-Flop – use me as a ladder and squeeze inside!’

  ‘Yayyyyyyy,’ squeaked the little bunnies, scampering up the scraggy mutt-mountain and then bundling through the open lid. All three landed safely in the thick sawdust beside their mother and within moments started to suckle contentedly.

  ‘Just keep them out of sight as best you can,’ Mr Dog advised her. ‘You’ll be all right – that goes for all you rabbits! You’ll be taken to live safely in a national park. It’s a fresh start – enjoy it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Mother Rabbit with a sweet and satisfied sigh.

  Socks started to climb up Mr Dog, eager to squeeze into the hutch himself. But Mr Dog jumped down from the sack with Socks clinging to his back.

  ‘Sorry, Socks.’ Mr Dog lay down so the rabbit could hop off. ‘The wild life is not the life for you.’

  ‘But …’ Socks jumped down, a quivering bundle of fur. ‘But what will become of me, all alone?’

  ‘I have one more idea,’ Mr Dog told him. ‘But we’ll have to move fast!’

  ‘Hussan!’ Jo, Kitty’s owner, was pointing to the lean-to. ‘That dog – he’s over here! Hussan?’ She hurried away to fetch him.

  ‘Come on,’ Mr Dog told Socks. ‘One last mad rush. And be careful not to be seen. Not yet, anyway …’

  Slipping away back to the cover of the hanging tarpaulin, Mr Dog and Socks watched as both Hussan and Jo entered the lean-to. Then they ran and hopped together back to the courtyard, where Hussan’s unfortunate tumble had pushed the crate away from the hole.

  ‘This is where we came in,’ said Mr Dog, ‘and it’s where I’ll go out.’

  Socks squeaked. ‘B-b-but what about me?’

  Mr Dog didn’t answer. He just dived into the hole, wriggled back under the fence and into the field.

  Socks gasped. Had he really been abandoned?

  But, seconds later, Mr Dog returned with his mouth full. ‘Here.’ He opened his jaws and six of the old gold coins fell out, pinging over the muddy floor of the courtyard. ‘You’re going to buy your bed and board with this haul of ancient money!’

  ‘What?’ Socks stared. ‘You’re crazy!’

  ‘You’re rich,’ Mr Dog retorted. ‘Archaeologists love old coins – and Jo clearly loves animals too. If we put you both together, it’ll cause quite a stir. How many rabbits are in the habit of finding coins? None! Except for you. People will want to know where you came from, who’s looking after you …’

  Socks’s eyes widened. ‘I might find my owner again!’

  ‘Or you might find a brand-new owner,’ Mr Dog suggested. ‘One who’ll look after you properly.’

  Socks looked down at the coins and placed a paw on them. ‘What a fantastic plan. Thank you, Mr Dog. You’re brilliant!’

  ‘Quite brilliant,’ Mr Dog agreed cheerily. Then he heard footsteps hurrying from the direction of the lean-to; Hussan and Jo were coming to the courtyard. ‘I’d better clear off,’ he said, ‘and leave you to your big moment.’

  Socks smiled and nodded. ‘But … what about all the other poor rabbits, out there? If the exterminator is coming for them …’

  ‘I’ll think of something, don’t you worry.’ Mr Dog backed up into the tunnel. ‘I’m called Mr Dog, remember? The “Mister” is short for “He’s Never Missed a Thing” … probably!’

  With that, he wriggled away through the muddy tunnel and into the freedom of the field beyond, just as Hussan and Jo burst into view.

  Socks, sitting amid the money, looked up at the humans innocently, twitching his nose in a most appealing fashion. ‘Were you looking for something?’ he squeaked.

  They couldn’t understand him, of course. But they could clearly see that the gold coins were very old and very rare and very valuable. Hussan fell to his knees in shock and s
tarted to gather them, while Jo picked up Socks.

  ‘Well, you’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘What a morning for mysteries! Where on earth did you come from with a treasure hoard like this?’

  ‘Well, there was this dog, see …’ Socks began.

  Jo could never know what he was saying, but it was a story Socks intended to say out loud as often as possible – a story about a brave, scraggy mutt with a good heart and a marvellous mind, who ran headlong into adventure, helping others along the way.

  Chapter Ten

  NEW BEGINNINGS

  A week later, one warm evening as the sun was setting, Socks sat in his spacious new two-storey hutch on the patio, looking out over rolling countryside. Two more rabbits – a mini Lop named Munchy and a Lilac called Ness – lay asleep in some hay beside him. Socks had been out in a run, munching sweet green grass all day, still marvelling at how his life had changed.

  His name had changed too; since he’d been found with the old gold coins, Jo from the dig had called him ‘Treasure’. The story of the ‘bunny in the money’ had got into the local news and he’d had all sorts of people sticking carrots and cameras in front of his face. Appeals were made to Socks’s old owners, but no one had come forward.

  Happily, Jo from the dig had felt that Munchy and Ness would enjoy some more company, and so she’d taken ‘Treasure’ home. Her garden was twice the size of his old place with views across the national park. As he gazed out, Socks – he would always think of himself as Socks, whatever others called him – wondered if Sneaker, Shoe, Flip-Flop and their mother had made it safely to freedom.

  Suddenly, Socks froze. He’d heard a noise on the patio. A dark four-legged figure was watching him from across the concrete.

  ‘Well, well,’ came a familiar voice. ‘So it is you! I knew you were around here somewhere, but thought my nose was playing tricks on me …’

  ‘Mr Dog!’ Socks bounced up and down in his cage. ‘Mr Dog, it’s so nice to see you. Look at my new house! Isn’t it wonderful? I’m a celebrity, you know …’

  ‘I do know,’ Mr Dog agreed, ears lopsided, his spotted neckerchief ruffled. ‘The lady I’ve been lodging with loves your story; she’s been telling all her friends. I heard that you’d been rehomed somewhere with a view of the park, which is why I came looking. There’s something I thought you’d like to see.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Well, you getting in the news caused a lot of interest in rabbits.’ Mr Dog licked his nose. ‘And I think your new owner might have let slip to a journalist that the local wild rabbits were facing a short and unhappy future. There was a public outcry.’

  ‘There was?’ Socks’s ears stood up. ‘So the wild rabbits are safe now?’

  ‘Well, since they weren’t welcome on that private land, disturbing the dig and eating the farmer’s crops, the local villages decided to work together.’ Mr Dog looked very happy. ‘There were no end of volunteers turning up to help catch the rabbits … and move them across to the national park.’

  Socks boggled. ‘ALL the rabbits?’

  ‘Well, no. There were plenty they couldn’t reach, and plenty more who didn’t understand and stayed hidden in their burrows.’ Mr Dog smiled. ‘Which is why I thought I’d better get involved.’

  Socks smiled back. ‘Of course you did.’

  ‘It was Hussan’s idea, really – do you remember? He told Jo they should put up signposts for the wild bunnies, directing them to the national park. But humans don’t speak rabbit, as I do. I scratched arrows into tree trunks and on stones: “Rabbit Paradise – this way!” and spread the word as best I could. “All the grass you can eat – and clover, too.”’ Mr Dog sat on his haunches. ‘I got every last rabbit so excited about that national park that … well, see for yourself.’

  Socks peered past Mr Dog. All rabbits have good long-distance vision, and his was better than most. He realised that one of the rolling fields was alive with silver-grey movement – a wave of wild rabbits, hopping, jumping and tumbling through the hedgerows into the wide expanse of the parkland.

  ‘They’ve come a long way,’ said Mr Dog. ‘And now they’ve reached their happy ending.’

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ Socks shivered with delight. ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘Impossible things are usually possible things hiding behind a tree,’ Mr Dog declared. ‘Those rabbits will be safe now. Do give them a wave now and then, won’t you? I expect that Shoe, Sneaker and Flip-Flop will be waving back at you.’

  ‘Oh, I will. I will, I will, I will.’ Socks hopped closer to the wire front of his hutch. ‘Thank you, my friend. For everything.’

  Mr Dog bowed politely. ‘My dear Socks, I wouldn’t have missed an adventure like this for all the world!’

  ‘Where will you go now?’

  ‘Well, I’m rather like that Roman dig we visited – I’m roamin’ all over the place!’ Mr Dog got up, his tail swishing merrily. ‘I think perhaps I’ll head for the coast. I do like to spend summer by the sea.’ With a quiet woof of farewell, Mr Dog turned and trotted away.

  ‘Happy travels,’ said Socks. ‘And good luck.’

  ‘Good luck? Oh yes. Yes, indeed.’ Mr Dog looked back and gave the rabbit one last doggy grin. ‘I never travel without it!’

  Notes from the Author

  I love rabbits. I can still feel the warm trickle of tears as I read Watership Down. It was a book that had a huge influence on me and brought me close to an animal that I would usually only glimpse fleetingly as it tore across a field.

  My first pet rabbit was, of course, named after another famous rabbit, Peter. He was a Netherland Dwarf and lived in a hutch with two guinea pigs for company. He had a beautiful white pelt that was so soft. And his ears. Those ears were incredible. I sobbed for a week when he died.

  Having spent much of the last two decades working in the countryside, I have learned that to those farming the land, these small animals can, of course, be a pest but as with everything, we can both live in harmony. Rabbits provide a food source for birds of prey as well as keeping shrubs down and encouraging wildflower meadows.

  Rabbits have an emotional draw over me. They have the power to take me back to my childhood. I hope this tale will help a new generation of young readers to connect with our countryside and the riches of its flora and fauna.

  What should you do if you think a baby wild rabbit has been abandoned?

  Young rabbits start to come out from the burrow at around eighteen days old when they will look like small adults. Never pick them up, unless they are injured.

  If you are worried that a rabbit or hare could have been abandoned, you should keep a look-out from a safe distance. This may mean keeping watch overnight to see if the mother rabbit returns.

  You shouldn’t disturb a burrow as this could cause the mother to abandon her young. If a baby rabbit is found above ground with its eyes closed, it could mean that it’s been dug out of its burrow by a predator. Only then would it need rescuing and taking for rehabilitation.

  If you see a pet rabbit running free in a wild area, you should tell a grown-up as quickly as possible as it will need to be rescued. Do not approach it yourself as it may carry disease or parasites.

  About the Author

  BEN FOGLE is a broadcaster and seasoned adventurer. A modern-day nomad and journeyman, he has travelled to more than a hundred countries and accomplished amazing feats, from swimming with crocodiles to rowing three thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean; from crossing Antarctica on foot to surviving a year as a castaway on a remote Hebridean island. Most recently, Ben climbed Mount Everest. Oh, and he LOVES dogs.

  About the Publisher

  Australia

  HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.

  Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street

  Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia

  http://www.harpercollins.com.au

  Canada

  HarperCollins Canada

  Bay Adelaide Centre, Ea
st Tower

  22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor

  Toronto, ON, M5H 4E3, Canada

  http://www.harpercollins.ca

  India

  HarperCollins India

  A 75, Sector 57

  Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India

  http://www.harpercollins.co.in

  New Zealand

  HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited

  P.O. Box 1

  Auckland, New Zealand

  http://www.harpercollins.co.nz

  United Kingdom

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London, SE1 9GF

  http://www.harpercollins.co.uk

  United States

  HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

  195 Broadway

  New York, NY 10007

  http://www.harpercollins.com