‘Daddy, Fred is leaving us!’ Fiona says tragically.

‘Nonsense!’ Father says wearily. ‘Speak, Freddy, and you two – keep silence!’

‘Well, Dad,’ I start, my eyes sting treacherously. ‘They’ve overheard me telling mum about my dream… to become a butterfly!’

‘See, Daddy, I am right, he is flying aw-a-a-y!’

‘I want to hug you goodbye, bro!’ Flynn says, approaching me.

‘You make me lose my patience, kids! Stop behaving like that or you both aren’t going out tomorrow! Understood?’ It is clear Dad isn’t joking.

‘Yes, Father,’ brother says earnestly. My sister nods and shows, that her mouth is sealed.

I bet you think my siblings have kept their word and stopped teasing me. ‘Ha-ha’ three times! When our parents have fallen asleep, and I toss and turn from side to side, Fiona comes up with new fun. She slips out, finds two maple leaves and performance begins. She dances, waving the leaves like butterflies flap their wings. Flynn grips his mouth so as not to laugh. I make an angry face and show him a fist. It amuses him even more and he starts giggling.

‘Tomorrow you stay at home all day. And no dessert!’ Father says quietly but firmly.

‘It serves you right!’ I sigh happily. ‘I won’t stay in with you, even if you plead me a hundred times! I’ll visit my new friend instead,’ I say to myself and finally fall asleep, thinking about wild strawberries mum gives us for dessert.

Laugh at me or not,

I don’t care at all!

I will become a butterfly

Either big or small!

Giggle, gossip, yell, ‘You’re mad!’

Stomping on the floor,

I will eat sweet pollen,

And soon will fly and soar!

I’m the second child in our family. When mum is bouncing my sister on her knee and Dad and Flynn are still sleeping after night hunting, I’m free to do what I want. So, every morning I usually do some stretching, have a light breakfast, and then run away to look for adventures.

Our forest is very quiet in the early morning. I like listening to birds that wake me up and watching the sun rising in the east. I like rolling in the grass, wet in dew. I love flowers that smell so tender and sweet. I enjoy watching squirrels running busily up and down the trees and jumping from branch to branch.

I laugh with joy when I see a rainbow or a sunray, piercing the clouds and treetops. Breathing in the smell of the wet ground after a night rain makes me feel excited. I feel like yapping and hopping, and dancing at the same time!

The place I live is not far from the village, where my friends are. I run through the fields, cross a stream on the stepping stones and steal under the bushes and hedges to stay unseen… and… Voilà! I’m in the village!

Luckily, I see Rufus almost every day, and he is always glad to see me! We have so much to do and talk about!

I’m running through the forest,

I’m running through the fields.

The shining sun’s above me

I’m racing down the hills.

I’m smelling morning flowers,

I’m drinking out of streams,

I’m looking for adventures,

And have a lot of dreams!

It’s time to tell you about Rufus. He is a R-R-Riesenschnauzer. This is his kennel. It’s rather spacious and cosy.

Rufus has got a family too. But they aren’t dogs. They are people! These are Rufus’s masters. They are Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. I know them, but they don’t know about me. Shhh! It’s our secret!

The Fletchers, whose names are Andy and Julia, live alone. Their daughter grew up and left for Australia.

I think Julia misses her a lot, that’s why they took not a grown-up dog to guard the house, but a puppy. Rufus says, when he was little, Andy used to train him and Julia – take him to bed and read bedtime stories.

Now Rufus is a year and a half. He is big and strong. The dog might even seem scary when he growls and bares teeth, but it’s O.K. with me. Can you keep secrets? I hope so. No, you should better forget it as soon as I tell you! Deal?

Rufus loves BATHING!

He lives a happy life. His masters give him all their love and care. Rufus gets his feeding twice a day, bathing once a month and grooming twice a year.

I think he sometimes gets dirty on purpose to have an extra bath with lavender shampoo and an all-over-the-body massage.

Here is he! What is he doing? Let’s see…

‘Where is it?’ he repeats again and again, while digging a new hole. ‘I’ve hidden it here, I might swear! Perhaps it is under a pear tree… No… Nasty moles! How many of you are here…?’

‘Hey, what are you doing?’ I ask.

‘I’m looking for my bone!’ my friend says.

‘So much fuss over an old rubber bone?’ I ask incredulously.

‘It wasn’t old at all!’ the dog answers. ‘Did you ever see it?’

‘Nope. Do you suspect me?’

‘Of course not!’ Suddenly an idea has flashed in his mind, ‘The moles! They must have stolen my bone! G-R-R-R-R-R! I will bury all your molehills!’

‘Stop it, Rufus! You are all in the mud like a wild boar!

‘Ru-fus! Come here, boy!’ Mrs. Fletcher calls.

‘Aha, it has already started… Firstly, Julia is likely to scold him. I know what I’m talking about. Listen!’

‘My goodness, Rufus! What have you been doing? Digging holes in the garden? Look at yourself! What a shame! ANY RESPECTABLE DOG WOULDN’T LET ITSELF GET SO DIRTY! Don’t even dare to hide in the kennel. Get out of there!’

On saying all that, Julia grabs Rufus by the collar and vigorously drags him to the garden to give her dog a big wash! Who’s lucky? Rufus is!

Rubby-dubby-duck,

A dog in a tub!

What a funny sight!

Come up closer,

No fright!

See? A scary dog,

That can rip your pants,

Is soaking like a frog,

And has no other plans!

It’s one of the splendid summer afternoons when the four of us: Father, Flynn, Fiona and me are walking in the forest. Dad teaches us to read traces. Then we play hide-and-seek, a leapfrog, and run a race, till we are out of breath and fall with fatigue.

When we walk past an anthill, Father stops and says, ‘What amazing creatures are those ants!’

‘Are they?’ Flynn asks. ‘They are so tiny and fussy running here and there, carrying leaves and pine needles. I don’t find them fascinating at all!’

‘They are, trust me!’ Dad objects. ‘Ants are hardworking and strong. They work nonstop all day long. Each ant can lift 20 times its body weight!’

‘Look, Dad, those aren’t working but fighting!’ I notice, coming up closer to the anthill. ‘Why?’

‘And what? We also fight sometimes. All boys are the same,’ my brother says knowingly, punching me slightly with his fist.

‘It’s evident, those ants are fighting to protect their dwelling from intruders. You know, they are great security guards!’ Father adds.

‘Are they?’ I ask.

‘You shouldn’t judge by their size! Despite being tiny, those insects are so brave that often fight to the death!’

‘Wow!’ Flynn says and his eyes get wide in surprise. ‘I start liking them!’

‘So, do I! They are fearless and fair!’

‘Fair? Well, I wouldn’t say so… Sometimes they enslave other ants and make them work for their colony,’ Father says.