Sharon Small - Dogfish CBeebies Bedtime Stories

CBeebies Bedtime Story.

No, not there.

Maybe over here.

Huh! Oh!

Hello!

I'm Sharon, and I'm looking to see if I can find any fish in the fish pond.

I'd really like to spot a goldfish. It should be quite easy to see one.

They're bright and orange and stand out from all the other fish.

I'd like to look after a goldfish as a pet.

But the little boy in tonight's bedtime story

doesn't want a goldfish as a pet, he would like a dog.

The story is by Gillian Shields and is called Dogfish.

Everyone has a dog, except me.

So, I say to my mum, "I need a dog!"

But my mum says,

"Why do you need a dog when you have such a nice goldfish?"

She always says things like that.

I explain that goldfish cannot catch sticks

or go for walks

or sit by your feet

and they NEVER wag their tails.

"That is why," I say,

looking at her with hypnotising eyes,

"I...need...a...dog!"

But my mum says, "We'll see."

Which really means, "No."

I look sad. My goldfish looks sad too.

These are our sad looks.

SIGHS

So my mum says, in her kind and caring voice,

"But, honey,

"how could we have a dog when we live on the 44th floor?"

I think for a bit, and say,

"444 stairs could be very good exercise for a dog."

Then she says,

in her soothing and explaining voice,

"But, sweetheart, wouldn't the dog be bored all day

"when I'm at work and you're at school?"

So I think a bit more, and say,

"It could read the paper."

And my mum looks irritated but sorrowful,

like this.

Then she says, in her this-really- is-the-end-of-the-matter voice,

"Now, darling, how could we possibly afford to feed

"a great big hungry dog?"

But I say, as quick as a fish, "I don't want a big hungry dog.

"I want a very, very, very small dog

"that eats hardly anything at all, just scraps."

Then we all look how people look when the situation is hopeless.

Like this.

After a bit, my mum says, "Well, if you can't have what you want,

"you could try to want what you have."

She always says things like that.

So then I look at my goldfish,

and my goldfish looks at me with its hypnotising eyes,

and I think,

"Maybe, just maybe."

So I teach my goldfish to catch a teeny, tiny stick.

It takes practice. It's a tough job.

Sometimes I think it's a waste of time.

But we get there in the end, and it feels good.

This is how good it feels!

I take my goldfish for walks,

and he takes me for walks.

We climb the 444 stairs...together!

When we're out, he reads the paper.

He's never bored.

He eats hardly anything at all, just scraps.

In the evening, he sits by my feet and I tell him stuff.

He's a great listener.

He can even wag his tail and say, "I love you."

He's not just a goldfish,

he's a DOGFISH!

So now, when I see everyone with their ordinary old dogs, I say,

"Why would I need a dog when I have the best goldfish in the world?!"

I like saying that.

And I look, and my mum looks,

and my goldfish looks utterly, totally, blissfully happy!

Just like this.

That story was called Dogfish.

I wonder if I can find as perfect a goldfish as Dogfish in this pond.

Well, while I keep looking, it's time for you to go to bed.

And I'll see you soon for another story.

Hmm, huh!

Now there's one over there.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd