The Seal in Biscuit’s Basket
Lou lived with Grandpa in a little blue house on the harbour wall. From the kitchen window she could see the seal rock, just past the end of the wall.
The seals lay on the rock like big grey puddings. More than anything, Lou wanted to stroke one. But every time she tiptoed along the wall, the seals looked up at her, and plop, plop, plop, they slid into the sea.
“One day,” said Lou.
Biscuit lived in the little blue house too. Biscuit was Grandpa’s old grey whiskery dog. One of his ears was always inside out, however often Lou flipped it back. Every evening he swam in the harbour. Every evening Grandpa whistled him home and dried him by the stove with the striped towel. As he rubbed, Grandpa counted.
“One ear, two ears, four paws and a tail.”
Then Biscuit went to sleep on the foot of Lou’s bed.
One evening a soft white mist rolled in over the water. It was time to whistle Biscuit home.
“Has anyone seen my spectacles?” said Grandpa.
“They’re on your head,” said Lou.
But Grandpa had already gone to look in the bread bin. They were not in the bread bin. So he went out to the top of the harbour steps without them, and he whistled into the mist.
Something came flopping up the steps. It was grey. It was whiskery. It was wet. Grandpa wrapped it in the striped towel and carried it in to the stove.
He rubbed, and he counted.
“One ear,” said Grandpa. He stopped. “No ears. No paws. Two flippers and… well, that’s new.”
“Hrrmph,” said the bundle.
“You’ve gone very round tonight, Biscuit,” said Grandpa. “And you’ve caught a cold. It’s woof, Biscuit. Not hrrmph.”
He tucked the bundle into the dog basket and set down a bowl of dog supper. The bundle sniffed it and did not eat a crumb.
“Not hungry,” said Grandpa. “It’s the mist.” And he sat down to his own supper, which was sardines on toast.
Lou knelt by the basket. Two big dark eyes looked up at her. A round grey face. Long whiskers. No ears at all that she could see.
“Grandpa,” said Lou. “This is a seal.”
“Is it?” said Grandpa. “Now, where did I put my spectacles?” And off he went to look in the teapot.
Lou ran to the window. The mist was lifting, and the moon came out. There was the seal rock, with all its seals. And right in the middle of them sat one grey whiskery dog, with one ear inside out.
Biscuit looked very happy. His tail went thump, thump on the rock.
“Oh, Biscuit,” said Lou.
She went back to the basket. “I’m going to call you Pebble,” said Lou. “But you can’t stay, Pebble. Biscuit sleeps on the foot of my bed and keeps my toes warm. I want him home.”
First, Lou opened the door wide and pointed at the sea.
“That way,” said Lou.
Pebble looked at the door. Pebble looked at Lou. Pebble snuggled down deeper into Biscuit’s blanket.
Next, Lou borrowed a sardine from Grandpa’s plate. She held it out and walked slowly backwards to the door. Pebble flopped out of the basket. Flop. Flop. Gulp! The sardine was gone. Then Pebble turned round and flopped straight back to the warm stove.
Grandpa came past, looking in the sugar bowl. He gave the basket a pat. “Still two flippers,” said Grandpa. “Must be the damp.”
Lou laughed so much she had to sit down on the floor. Pebble leaned out of the basket to look at her. So Lou put out her hand, very slowly.
Pebble did not slide away. Pebble did not go plop. Pebble let Lou stroke that round grey head. It was cool and smooth, as smooth as a wet stone from the beach.
“I’m stroking a seal,” said Lou. She said it very quietly, so as not to spoil it.
It was lovely. But it was nearly bedtime, and Biscuit was still on the rock.
So Lou went to Grandpa, who was looking in the bread bin again. She climbed on a chair, reached up, and tapped the top of his head. The spectacles dropped down onto his nose.
“There they are!” said Grandpa. He looked at the basket. He looked again. “Lou,” said Grandpa, “that is not Biscuit.”
“No,” said Lou. “That’s Pebble. Biscuit is on the seal rock.”
Grandpa looked out of the window. “So he is,” he said. “Good thing somebody in this house notices things.”
He lit the lantern. Pebble would not leave the basket, so Grandpa carried the whole basket, Pebble and all, down to the harbour steps. Lou carried the lantern.
The water was flat and calm. The moon made a shining path across it, all the way to the rock. Grandpa whistled two long notes. Then together they called Biscuit’s bedtime call.
“Bis-cuit! Bed-time, Bis-cuit!”
Out on the rock, Biscuit stood up. Splosh! In he went. He paddled home along the moon path, with his inside-out ear sticking up. And beside him swam a big grey seal, round and smooth, with very long whiskers.
Pebble sat up in the basket. “Hrrmph!” said Pebble.
“Hrrmph,” said the big seal.
“That’s Pebble’s mother,” said Lou.
Pebble slid out of the basket, down the wet steps, and into the sea beside the big seal. They touched noses. Then they swam slowly back to the rock together.
Biscuit climbed the steps and shook himself all over Grandpa. Grandpa did not mind one bit. He wrapped Biscuit in the striped towel, and he rubbed, and he counted softly.
“One ear, two ears, four paws and a tail.”
“That’s right,” said Lou. “I missed you, Biscuit.” And Biscuit licked her chin.
That night Biscuit climbed onto the foot of Lou’s bed, turned round three times, and lay down. Out on the rock, Pebble curled up next to the big seal. And every evening after that, Pebble came to the bottom of the harbour steps to have that round grey head stroked.
Grandpa tucked Lou in. He pushed his spectacles up on top of his head, where they always ended up, and turned the lamp down low.
“Goodnight, Lou,” said Grandpa.
“Goodnight, Grandpa,” said Lou.
Biscuit in Lou’s bed. Pebble on the rock. Grandpa in his chair, with his spectacles on his head. And Lou fell asleep, warm and glad, with one inside-out ear against her foot.