Mr Luggie Tatters and the Terrible Trouble at Forevergreen Farm

By Margaret Kennedy

Mr. Luggie Tatters is a small mongrel rescue dog who lives an idyllic life on Forevergreen Farm and Garden Centre with his many friends that include doves, goats, puffins, deer, sheep, and herons. But their happy days are about to be shattered when a bantam cockerel arrives on the scene with an evil mission.

Rufus Octavius Theobald Thurstan Weiler is a tiny bully chicken who has a name longer than his legs and an attitude bigger than his entire body. When Rufus decides to take over the farm, things suddenly go from bad to worse. Now it is up to Mr. Luggie Tatters to save the day. But after he calls an emergency meeting with the grand goal of making all the farm animals happy, a chain of events unfurls that leads to the shocking discovery that one of the animals on the farm is not who he says he is.

In this charming tale, a bully bantam cockerel causes terrible trouble after he arrives at Forevergreen Farm to unleash a dark plan on its innocent animal residents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Mar 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823081757

Margaret Kennedy

Margaret Kennedy (1896–1967) found popular acclaim before the age of thirty with her 1924 novel The Constant Nymph. It sold copies in the millions and spawned no fewer than three screen adaptations. One of the most successful and prolific British novelists of the twentieth century, she also produced literary criticism, plays, screenplays, and a biography of Jane Austen.

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© 2023 Margaret Kennedy. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   03/29/2023

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8176-4 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8177-1 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-8175-7 (e)

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To my late parents, Josephine and Joe Kennedy, who taught and encouraged me to love and respect animals, as well as to all those wonderful people, who, in the past and who will in the future, open their hearts and homes to the little creatures we call strays.

To Anne R; Yvonne C; Yvonne S; Louise Carr; Denise and Sarah; John; Maureen; Colette; and Larr.

This is also for all the incredible little strays who became pets and friends, whom I have had the pleasure to be owned by, especially

• Rex, the most wonderful friend who in 2017 passed away peacefully in his cosy bed at thirteen years old. He was a rescue corgi, and no dog was a more perfect gentleman. He was my inspiration for Mr Luggie Tatters;

• Tri-colore, my inspiration for Ginger Belle;

• Bunny and Baby Bear, my inspirations for Sissy and Sunny; and

• Pastori, my inspiration for Gunter.

All are now in the happy hunting garden but remain forever friends.

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1

The little twelve-year-old black-and-white mongrel dog, Mr Luggie Tatters, knows he has eaten too much (again!). He can never understand why food acts like a sleeping pill the moment it reaches his stomach; right now he is having great difficulty keeping his big brown eyes open. He is so sleepy he doesn’t even want to be disturbed by his little guardian angel Hope. A magnificent heavenly being, surrounded by a brilliant white light. A crown of dazzling blue lotus flowers that shimmer when she moves. It is imperative that he get to his favourite snooze spot without delay, before the drowsiness takes complete control of his senses.

Luggie loves the spot. He calls it his happy place, second only to the big soft sofa or one of the armchairs in the sitting room. He can think of nothing sweeter in the winter than curling up like a big fat ball in one of those lovely cosy armchairs, one on each side of the large, open log fire. His friends are the same—lounging on the other comfy chair, the sofa, or the deep-pile rug on the floor. A large basket of logs stands on one side of the blazing fire, and another basket, filled to the brim with turf, stands on the other side. Luggie likes watching the logs on the fire slowly surrender to the red, yellow, and orange flames. The sparks, like fairy dust, disappear in a playful dance up the open black mouth of the chimney. He listens to the rain tapping gently on the windows. The old clock, the heartbeat of the house, looks out from its happy face on an antique wooden frame, sitting centre stage on the mantelpiece and taking its time, ticking softly to the next minute. The tasty aroma of freshly baked bread escapes from the busy kitchen.

But right now it is the middle of summer, and the afternoon is sweltering hot. Forevergreen Farm and Garden Centre and its coffee shop are about to close for the day. The last of the tour buses has left, and the car park is almost empty. The small souvenir shop that just that morning had been abuzz of activity is calm and quiet. The only buzz to be heard now is a busy bee checking out the blooms of a beautiful clematis draped around the coffee shop door.

Nearby, a large bed of scarlet-red geraniums suddenly comes to life as a beautiful snow-white cat with a black tail dives into the middle of them.

‘Luggie, Luggie,’ she calls out.

It is Sissy, and the gang have sent her to look for Mr Luggie Tatters. Everyone looks up to Luggie, even though he is no bigger than a really fat Jack Russell terrier, with his white body, no tail, and two massive black ears on a black head. His legs are on the short side, but Luggie does not mind. They always get him to wherever he wants to go, and that is the most important thing.

Luggie is a kind, gentle little soul, but for all his life nothing ever has gone right for him. He’s a magnet for trouble, always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and always in the centre of chaos, no matter how hard he tries to be good. However, he has a big heart of gold, and he always tries to do his best, no matter what comes his way.

Sissy struggles through the bed of geraniums and then squeezes behind the big terracotta flowerpots until she finds the little dog at the back in the deepest shade where it is lovely and cool. He is lying flat out on his back in a deep sleep, his fat tummy rising and falling with every gentle breath.

‘Luggie, Luggie, come on! Luggie, wake up!’ Sissy shouts, nudging him with her pink nose.

One of Luggie’s front paws twitches, and he gives a little snort.

‘Luggie, quick, wakey-wakey!’ Sissy cries, pushing him.

He has put on a lot of weight since his arrival at Forevergreen Farm, which was only last Christmas. Before that he spent twelve years as a stray, when he had been skin and bones most of the time. Now, though, he is just a fat blob.

Sissy rocks him to and fro. Without lifting his head off the ground, Luggie opens one eye and stares at the underside of a large, dark green leaf.

‘Luggie, Luggie,’ Sissy says excitedly, sticking her nose right up close to his sleepy eye. ‘Come on, Luggie, we all want you up in the top yard. Some new chickens have arrived, and everyone wants you to welcome them officially to Forevergreen. Come on, let’s go!’

‘Mmmmmmmmm,’ comes the lazy reply.

The afternoon is sizzling, so hot that Luggie can see nothing but a big pile of pork chops, rashers, sausages, fried eggs, chips, roast turkey, cream cakes, ice cream … all sizzling away on the hop path. All he got when he was a stray were scraps when he succeeded in knocking over bins or fell into them. Now he is on a diet that everybody thinks is sooo not working. He has many friends of all shapes and sizes and is constantly told by them and the farm animals to stay away from the little coffee shop.

‘But you can’t waste good scraps,’ he always tells his friends, all the sheep, most of the cows, some of the goats, a few of the donkeys, not to mention the hens, the ducks and seagulls to name just a few.

‘Oh, but they are not scraps,’ his friends Una, a little lamb and Big Bran an old Irish Wolfhound try explaining nicely. ‘They are big chunks of black forest cake and huge dollops of beef stroganoff—and don’t forget the ice cream.’

‘Yes, yes!’ Luggie cries, his tongue hanging out. ‘Beef shrug-it-off and ice cream! But I only go there to welcome the nice people coming off the buses.’

‘Oh no you don’t. You always look up at them with those great big brown eyes of yours, and then you think of chopped onions, and then your eyes well up with big droplets. Before you can say melted cheese, they give you the whole plate.’ Says Gogo Mo, a shy little sheep.

‘But that’s all Sissy and Sunny’s fault,’ Luggie says. ‘They are couch potatoes who sleep all day, and then they have to take a nap after that. And they’re always watching TV. They saw it in a film about a ginger cat with black boots and a hat with a big long feather. You know, all big eyes and feathers and tears. They tried it on a few humans at the coffee shop, and it turned the humans to mush.’

With thoughts of his dearest friends’ helpful words fading from his mind, he heads off down to the coffee shop. An hour later, after eating a banquet of yummy treats, he has his heaven on earth disturbed by pushing and shoving and rocking.

‘Quick, Luggie,’ Sissy says. ‘They’re a great bunch of chickens. Oh, you should see them, Luggie—they’re so cute. When I was leaving to look for you, one of them was trying to teach Sunny to dance!’

Without lifting his head, Luggie opens both eyes wide in amazement. Teach Sunny to dance? Now that, Luggie thinks,