In this kids bedtime story, Issy & Poppy discover the magic of a jam piece and the quiet loyalty of Glen, a ghost dog from Dad’s past. A heartwarming tale of rescue dogs, Scottish memories, and sweet traditions.

A kids bedtime story about rescue dogs, a jam piece, and a ghost dog named Glen — a sweet tale of Scottish memories and quiet magic.

🐾 Biscuit Crumbs & Ghosts

It was a warm afternoon in Monte Lope Álvarez. The girls were stretched out in the courtyard, bellies full of Digestives and Jammy Dodgers, while Dad sipped tea and brushed crumbs from his lap — some for the ghosts, just in case. The scent of orange still lingered from the morning's pruning, mixed now with something savoury drifting from Rosa's kitchen.

“Tell us a story,” said Poppy, tail thumping.
“One with food,” added Issy, eyeing the Shortbread tin.

🏡 Life at 10 Mill Street, Montrose

Dad leaned back. “When I was about eleven, I lived with my Scottish granny and two uncles — John and Bert — in a cottage at 10 Mill Street, right opposite The Golf Inn. You could hear the clink of pint glasses through the hedges on a Friday night.”

Granny had cooked in service, so she knew her way around a kitchen. Every day she made a three-course lunch and a two-course dinner, plus breakfast: cereal, porridge, boiled eggs, toast and jam.

Issy blinked. “That’s not a breakfast. That’s a declaration of intent.”
Poppy whispered reverently, “Jam…”

🍲 Stovies, Soup & Flapping Fish

“On Mondays,” Dad continued, “we had Stovies — leftover potatoes and carrots, cooked in beef dripping from the brisket she made on Sunday. Her soups were legendary: a clear vegetable broth, and a sieved red lentil soup made with a ham bone.”

“Every Friday,” he added, “Granny sent me to McFisheries on the High Street to buy halibut. She’d say, ‘If the fish isn’t flapping on the slab, don’t buy it.’ I’d stand there, eleven years old, staring at fish like I was waiting for them to wink.”

Issy snorted. “Did they ever?”
Dad smiled. “Once. But I think it was a trick of the light.”

☕ Thursday Mornings & Biscuit Tins

“Thursday mornings were sacred,” Dad said. “Granny’s tartan biscuit tin was full — Walkers Shortbread, Abernethy biscuits, sometimes an Empire biscuit if she’d been baking. Mrs Lindsay — Glen’s human — came first. Then an aunty somebody, neighbour Morag, and Moira from the chippy across the road.”

Poppy grinned. “What did Glen eat?”
“Whatever fell on the floor,” Dad said. “He was fast.”

🏫 School Days & Endless Summers

“I went to Montrose Academy,” Dad said, “played football and cricket for the school. We trained in the mornings, matches in the afternoons. And you know what? I can’t remember it ever raining. Not once.”

Issy squinted. “In Scotland?”
Dad nodded. “I know. But that summer… it was endless. Blue skies, green grass, and the sound of cricket balls thudding into gloves.”

Poppy said, “Sounds like here. Except here it's always endless summer.”
Issy added, “And we don't have to wear jumpers in August.”
Dad chuckled. “True. Though I do miss proper rain sometimes. The kind that makes you feel alive when you come in from it.”
Issy offered, “You're welcome to go stand in Rosa's garden when she waters the tomatoes.”
Poppy tilted her head. “It's not the same though, is it? Scottish rain versus Spanish sunshine.”
Dad smiled. “No. But both feel like home, in their own way.”

🥧 Supper & Jam Pieces

“Uncle John and Uncle Bert would have a slice of pork pie or a Scotch pie after cricket.”

Issy asked, “What's a Scotch pie?”
“Mutton in pastry. Very Scottish,” Dad replied.
Poppy leaned in. “And you?”
“I'd have a jam piece.”

Issy blinked. “A what?”
Dad smiled. “Just a slice of bread with butter and jam. Granny would cut it thick — proper bread from the baker, not the sliced stuff. She'd butter it right to the edges, then spread raspberry jam on top. Sometimes strawberry if it was in season.”

Poppy looked amazed. “That's it? Just bread and jam?”
Dad nodded. “That's it. But after running around the garden fetching cricket balls — well, watching Glen fetch cricket balls — it was perfect. Simple. Sweet. And Granny always cut it into triangles.”

Issy asked, “Why triangles?”
“She said it tasted better that way,” Dad said. “I believed her.”

🎣 Fishing & Glen’s Bark

“I took up fishing too. Sea fishing at the harbour — mackerel, pollock, the odd crab. And salmon fishing on the River Esk. Never caught one. Not for the want of trying.”

Poppy leaned in. “Did Glen come with you?”
Dad smiled. “Always. He’d sit beside me, watching the line. Sometimes he’d bark at the water, as if to scare the fish into biting.”

Issy tilted her head. “Wait…”
Poppy’s eyes widened. “Glen?”
They both turned toward the gate.

There he was. The ghostly sheepdog. Watching. Tail wagging. Stick in mouth.

👻 The Realisation

Dad didn’t flinch. He simply smiled and reached down to take the stick.

“He’s been here since I moved in,” he said. “2012. I always knew.”

Issy stared. “You knew?”
Poppy blinked. “All this time?”

Dad nodded. “He just… arrived. Like he belonged. I never questioned it.”

Issy rested her chin on her paws. “Valentine’s Day, 2018. That’s when I came here. You were already waiting, weren’t you?”
Glen didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Poppy nestled in beside them. “I found this place from the campo, January 2019. Cold paws, empty belly. But Glen was here. I remember now — he brought me a stick.”
She smiled. “I thought it was the wind.”

🧠 Family Roots & Biscuit Crumbs

Dad looked out toward the olive trees. “Granny always said we came from Thomas Morisone. 1598. One ‘r’, and an ‘e’ for style.”

Issy blinked. “That’s older than the fig tree.”
Poppy whispered, “Older than Glen?”

Dad smiled. “Almost.”

Poppy asked, “Do you ever make jam pieces now?”
Dad nodded. “Sometimes. When I'm feeling nostalgic. Though the bread's different here. And I can never cut the triangles as neatly as Granny did.”

Issy offered, “We could help you eat them.”
Dad grinned. “I suspect you could.”

Glen, quietly: “She always saved the crusts for me.”

And somewhere in the shadows, a biscuit crumb disappeared.

This story is part of the Issy & Poppy: Kids Edition collection — bilingual adventures with Issy and Poppy in Andalucía. You can explore the whole collection in the Kids Edition Hub.

Esta historia forma parte de la colección Issy & Poppy: Kids Edition — aventuras bilingües con Issy y Poppy en Andalucía. Descubre toda la colección en el Kids Edition Hub.
Footnote: AI images, my stories — The Flexible Chef.