A short story for Easter – for children and those of us who have never fully grown up!

Finn the deerhound, Lord of the Glen, was scenting the air in the beautiful woodland that lay within a short walk of the walls of his wonderful garden.  He was taking his morning constitutional which he liked to think was a regular thing, though the duties of a celebrity made it more of a weekly than a daily event these days.  It was also nice to have escaped on his own for a change.  Though he loved his household (the Maid and the Butler, Flower the lurcher, Rubbish the young greyhound-come-rabbit hound and of course Jeffery the marmalade cat) it was marvellous to be able to just clear his mind of his responsibilities (and Jeffrey’s ego!).  He could smell something strange in the air.  What was it? Animal?  Maybe.  Vegetable? Possibly.  He walked in the direction of the scent, stopping occasionally to take another snort of air.  Yes, it was this way.

            The woods were a little thicker and the path was getting a touch more overgrown when he thought that he caught a flask of brown between the trees to his right.  He stopped and looked again.  Yes, there was definitely someone moving – someone nearly as tall as himself (and he was considered tall for a deerhound) and he could make out a short tail (what they called a scut) and big ears.  Who could this be?

He moved as quietly as he could towards the figure.  He could see them more clearly now.  It was a very big rabbit, with long brown ears, a brown coat and long legs.  Yes, indeed, it wasn’t a rabbit but a hare.  Finn remembered the Winter Hare, Eira, who he had helped to escape from the clutches of human hunters and their dogs a few years back but this hare was much taller.  They also carried a wicker basket and wore a bright green bow tie.  Finn was much closer now and could hear the hare singing to themselves.  Every now and again they would reach into the basket and take something out and tuck them into the grassy undergrowth, whispering something as they did so.

            Finn took another step towards the hare and made the cardinal sin of stepping on a twig which snapped with a cloud crack!  The hare froze and turned towards Finn.  They looked terrified.  Finn introduced himself, “Good morning.   My name is Finn, please don’t be frightened,” he bowed politely.  The hare relaxed and broke into a broad smile.  “Ah yes, the Lord of the Glen!”  It was a gentleman hare (Finn should have guessed by the bow tie).  “I am Eric.  I am the Easter Bunny.”

            Finn bowed again. 

            “Well, I’m not THE Easter bunny.  I’m a Trainee Assistant Easter Bunny.”  He blushed a little.  “If I earn my bunny points I can graduate to Assistant next year, then Easter Bunny Grade 3 the year after.”

            “I never realised that there was such a well-developed career structure,” Finn replied.  He really was surprised.  Eric smiled and nodded, “Oh yes, from leveret to fully-fledged Easter Bunny Grade 1 is possible with skill and dexterity and great customer care.  The only thing is, we mustn’t be seen by anyone.”  At this both Finn and Eric frowned.  “This could be a major setback.”

            They stood quietly in a small clearing, both feeling a bit awkward for a minute, until Finn spoke again to break the embarrassed silence.  “Are you, er, related to Eira, the Winter Hare?”

            Eric nodded.  “Yes, she’s my fourth cousin on my mother’s side.  My Mam was an arctic hare.” Eric looked upset again.  “She was ever so proud when she found out I was going to be a Trainee Assistant.  She’s going to be really disappointed when she finds I’m going to be downgraded.”

            Finn put his huge hairy paw over the hare’s shoulder to comfort him.  He could see tears slowly sliding down Eric’s face to congregate on his whiskers where they formed pools that dripped off onto his huge feet.  “I’ve got another three of these to distribute.  Now I’ve been seen it’ll never happen.”  The disconsolate hare tilted the wicker basket to show Finn a pile of eggs, all painted in fantastic colours, some with stripes, some with dots, some with stars and moons, and some with coloured bows that sparkled in the dappled morning sunshine.

            As Finn hugged him gently, Eric produced a huge yellow and blue spotted handkerchief from an invisible pocket in his fur and proceeded to wipe his eyes then blow his nose loudly.  This caused four families of local chaffinches to take off from surrounding trees, not too happy to have been woken at this still unearthly hour.

            “Is there anything I can do to help?”  Finn asked.  “I can deliver the eggs with you if that’s ok?”

            Eric shook his head, “I don’t think that’s allowed.  There are strict rules, you know.”  From the same invisible pocket the hare produced a well-thumbed dog-eared book entitled, “Easter Bunny – Rules and Regulations.  Edition 37.  (Cost 3 shillings and 6 pence).”

            “Rules are rules,” Eric’s smile sagged again.

            “Let’s get these eggs delivered, and I’ll sort out the rules afterwards.  I think I can call in a few favours,” the old deerhound chuckled.  Finn sounded so positive that Eric raised his smile, and the Easter Bunny (Trainee Assistant) leaned behind a tree and lifted up another basket of coloured eggs which he gave to Finn.

            Eric ran through the correct procedure for distribution of the eggs; for young and baby animals only (birds were excluded for some obscure reason involving unsubstantiated accusations of cannibalism), one per household/drey/den/sett.  Don’t knock or make a fuss, just deposit the egg upright and slightly out of sight (there had to be some element of surprise for the recipient).  Finn took the forest on the right of the path and Eric the forest on the left.  The hare had two baskets to Finn’s one (Trainee Assistant though he was, he had received more training than Finn and, with two-handed delivery, was much faster).

            For the next hour (though it only felt like ten minutes) Finn sped through his part of the woodland taking out eggs and putting them on the ground outside the homes of various animals.  For the tree-dwellers he did his best to put the eggs on branches but this did cause some confusion when he left one outside what he thought was a squirrel’s drey but turned out to be a woodpecker.  He had some difficulty explaining this to the furious woodpecker who had a serious sense of humour deficiency.

            Finn was shattered by the time he met up with Eric again.  Eric was so pleased that Finn had been able to assist, and that he had delivered his order of Easter eggs within time and before the rest of the animals had woken up (or the nocturnal ones gone home to bed).  As he shook Finn’s hand he asked him, “Will I still get in trouble for being seen?”

            Finn winked. “Don’t worry.  Tell them that you were in Finn, the Lord of the Glen’s woods and that I offered to help.  If they have any issues, let them speak to Eira, or failing that, Father Christmas will vouch for me.”

            Eric bowed again to the Mighty Finn, Lord of the Glen, deerhound extraordinaire and all round good egg (no pun intended. Well, only slightly).  With a wave the Trainee Assistant Easter Bunny was gone.

            As he strolled home, Finn contemplated a number of things.  Such as, why is he called the Easter Bunny when in fact he’s a Hare?  He mused on this, and then changed the subject to his favourite one; breakfast.  Was it going to be porridge today?  With or without bacon and some chopped sausages?  What about cooked tomato on the side?

            When he got to the tall green door in the even taller red brick garden wall his stomach was rumbling.  From the other side he heard an ancient moggie voice call out, “I heard that!”  The door opened and Jeffrey was there to welcome him home and accompany him as he sauntered down the garden path to the patio.

            “Been anywhere interesting, old chap?” asked the impeccably well spoken old moggie.

            “Oh, just strolling in the woods.” Finn replied.

            A face peered around the kitchen door. “Breakfast is ready!” the Maid called. On the patio on their dog beds lay Flower the butterscotch-coloured lurcher and Rubbish the brindle greyhound who both smiled and wagged their tails as they saw Finn approaching.  “Morning!” they called, in unison.

            Jeffrey laughed, “They do practically everything together these days!” he said to Finn under his breath.  Finn grinned.

            The Butler brought out three dog bowls and two large dinner plates.  In the bowls were porridge, and on one plate a mix of sardines and cat biscuits, and the other plate chopped sausages and chopped crispy bacon.  He set out the bowls and plate, then asked the gathered dogs (and cat), “And how would you like your breakfast?”

            They all looked to Finn.  “The works, as usual,” came the reply.  The sausages and bacon were added to all the bowls (including Jeffrey’s).

            “Bon appétit!” the Butler said as he left them to it.

            “Quite so!” replied Jeffrey.

            They all tucked in.

As the meal was coming to an end (Jeffrey had finished first, despite having very few teeth) the Maid came out with a box.  “Finn,” she said.  The old dog looked up.  “This is for you.  It was left on the front doorstep.”

            She put the box on the low table at which the animals ate their food.  It had a beautiful yellow ribbon around it, and a tag on which was written, “To Finn, Assistant to the Trainee Assistant Easter Bunny, with thanks.  E.”  When the Maid opened it, inside were four beautifully coloured and wrapped eggs.  Each animal had one, and when they cracked them open each one was the very favourite treat they loved; for Flower, it was pasty flavour, for Rubbish sausage flavour, for Jeffrey, tuna and cheese, and for Finn, venison and gravy.  Amazing!

            Finn stopped munching to announce to everyone, “Happy Easter!”

Chris Dignam, 04/04/21

Copyright Chris Dignam/Crafty Dog Books

To be reproduced by permission only

During this dark period I am trying to post some short pieces to amuse, inform or generally give people a distraction – read and enjoy!

The following short story explains how the Mighty Finn, hero of the “Largest Rabbit” books came to the farmhouse and his “magic” garden, and came to be Lord of the Glen. Finn is based on a real hound, who had a real Maid and Butler, and this isn’t too far from his real story. Please post a comment, like or review on this or the Crafty Dog Books page, especially if you would like another short piece.

The smell of cooking bacon drifted through the kitchen doorway, across the patio and on down the long garden, towards the green door in the wall that led to the woods.  As it floated past it was intercepted by the nostrils of two hungry hounds and an even hungrier ancient marmalade cat.  Lying on the chaise longue were a young brindle greyhound and a fawn lurcher, cuddled up together.   Across from them, Jeffrey, the said ancient cat, lay back, warming his striped (in places) tummy in the sun.  They were all dreaming about bacon sandwiches, or at least that’s what Rubbish the greyhound and Jeffrey were thinking about.  Flower the lurcher, whose coat was almost as golden as the paving slabs the chairs stood on, was pondering on other things.  “Jeffrey?” she asked.

The old cat’s left eye creaked open, “Yes, my dear?”

“What’s Mr Finn’s story?”

Jeffrey sat upright, “Finn’s story?”

“Yes.  Was he born here in the house, and has he always been the Lord of the Glen?”

Finn the noble deerhound, Lord of the Glen, Master of the Hills and Forests, was the hound who looked after everyone in this, his “magic” garden.  He lived here in the old farmhouse with Cath and Sam, whom he called The Maid and The Butler, and they in turn felt that this actually was their role, looking after this wonderful hound.  Tall, regal, with a quick mind and a sparkle in his eye, gentle but with a power and authority that meant that all the animals, and many of the humans around the area, saw him as the Lord of the Glen.  Animals in trouble came to him, and the occasional human, and he ensured that things were carried out fairly and any trouble was soon sorted.  It was he who had helped Rubbish, the abandoned greyhound pup, brought up by rabbits, to find his true identity.  (The pup had called himself Rubbish  as that’s what the humans had said he was.)  It was Finn that had helped Rubbish and Jeffrey thwart the plans of a fox to capture Rubbish’s rabbit family, and who’d declared Rubbish to be a Rabbit hound who would protect the rabbits like a sheepdog protects his sheep.   Finn, Rubbish and Jeffrey had helped to save Eira, the Winter Hare, from hunters who were after her skin (literally) and rescued the quiet and gentle Flower from their clutches.  There were many other adventures, involving ghost hounds, witches and even Father Christmas (that particular adventure had resulted in them being given the gift of understanding, and being understood by, humans.  Rubbish had found that most useful, as now he could order his meals from the Maid and she could understand what his exact requirements were)!

“Ah.  Finn wasn’t always the Lord of the Glen.”  Jeffrey pulled himself upright and looked across at the dogs.  Flower’s ears pricked up and the young greyhound’s did too, as they listened to what the old cat had to say.  “As you know, I am quite old now.  I was here before Finn, and I can remember his coming here. 

Cath and Sam were talking in the kitchen and I was sitting up on the window sill,” he pointed to the long sandstone sill below the window next to the yellow back door. “Cath was very upset.  A group of travellers were camping in the fields outside the village.  This was not unusual, as the villagers round here get on well with the travelling folk who often stay on the old fair field during the winter.”

“Why was she upset?” asked Rubbish.

            “I was just coming to that,” the old cat added. “Now, this group were not the usual families and were more than a little troublesome.  The villagers tried to ‘cut them some slack’ as they say, but they went too far.  Some houses were broken into, cars and vehicles damaged but worst of all, livestock were taken.  All in all, they created a lot of very bad feeling.  One of the travelling families was seen hunting rabbits [Rubbish was shocked by this, as they could have been his own rabbit-family].  Cath was in the village when there had been a confrontation between the local policeman and the men of this family.  They had a number of dogs, of various types but mostly greyhound crosses, or as they call them, Lurchers, (no offence young Flower), and amongst them were a few deerhounds.  It was said that they had used them to hunt the deer that roam in the woodland around the village.  Anyway, after this confrontation the travellers started to pack up, and during the evening they all left.  When the sun came up the next morning, they were gone.  They had left a fair bit of mess behind, and Cath and Sam had gone to help the villagers with the clear up.  Behind the camp they found tied to a post, next to a bramble hedge, a very thin and scabby deerhound pup.  He was in a very sorry state, and the local animal rescue people had come to see him.  They didn’t think anyone would give him a home but Cath and Sam had begged to let them take this pup in.

Driving back in the car he was given the name of Finn, after the giant from Irish and Scottish legends.  They knew that with love and care this little pup would grow up to be as large as any giant.

I can see that scrawny little pup now – his coat was dirty and matted, and they had to clip all his fur off.  He wasn’t house-trained, and even though he was now bald he still had fleas!  I’ll be honest, I never thought that pup would ever amount to much!

Still, as he grew – and by heck, he didn’t half grow fast – he began to show his personality.  He was very quick to learn the rules of the house, and even more he came to listen to me and some of the older animals, and he began to understand the rules of the animals too.”

“So then he was Lord of the Glen?” asked Rubbish.

“Bless my soul, not at that stage.  That came later!” Jeffrey chuckled. “Within a couple of years he had grown very large and powerful – no other animal would stand against him.  He began to get a little big-headed, as the humans say, and throw his weight around.  He even growled at Sam once or twice.  Finn could have become difficult to handle.

That winter when Finn must have been 3 years old, he had a terrible illness.  dog flu, I think they called it.  Cath and Sam watched over him day and night, taking it in turns to keep him clean, give him medicine, and food, and watch his temperature.  Even the animals from the woods would come to the garden gate each day to see how he was, and I would keep them updated.  Finn nearly died, but he came through it. 

Over the next few months he gradually got stronger.  He would sit on this settee on the patio, one that Sam had brought out from the house for him to use, where he could feel the warmth of the sun and recover.  Cath would look out the window and there was always some animal or other from the fields or woods sitting with Finn, talking to him and he to them.  I would be there to ensure they didn’t tire him, and to give him the benefit of my vast knowledge too [at this the dogs looked at each other and Rubbish smiled].  By the time he had recovered fully he and I had become firm friends.

Not long after he was better, we had a message from one of the forest animals.  The two badger families were in dispute over an ancient badger sett.  Both claimed it as theirs, and they were on the verge of war between them.  Now you’ve seen how formidable the Bills can be when roused.  It was Brian’s family that called Finn for him to intervene.  Finn stood right between the two armies and put both of the family chiefs in their place, there and then.  Anyone else would have been terrified to have been there, standing between the two battling families, but Finn was calm and collected.  I can see him now, tall, and oozing confidence and, yes, nobility.  Both families were satisfied with his decision and that he had been fair.  It was Brian the Badger Chieftain that had first called him “Lord”, and that has stuck.  Since then, if there has been any quarrel, or if animals have needed help, it’s to Finn that they’ve come.”

            “So…that’s why he helped me.  Because I was an abandoned puppy too?” the greyhound suggested.

Jeffrey nodded, “He would have done so anyway, but he has said to me many times that he felt especially for you, as he had once been that very pup.”

Rubbish didn’t know what to say.  He felt very proud of his friend and mentor, the mighty Finn, and he felt so very sad that he too had had that awful upbringing.

Flower also wiped a tear from her eye.  She could see how the story had affected her dear Rubbish, and she too knew what it was to have been abandoned and rescued.

“Good afternoon all!” a deep deerhound voice called from the kitchen doorway. “I have been told by the Maid that bacon sandwiches are ready.”

The three animals on the patio turned towards the old deerhound and cheered.  Finn thought it had been because of the bacon but that wasn’t the real reason that they’d cheered.  Hail to the Lord of the Glen!

(Story & characters copyright Chris Dignam/Crafty Dog Cymru. Finn the Deerhound is courtesy of Kate & Sean Standing. Feel free to share but please credit the author & K&S Standing.)