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  With a howl of pure fury, the animal cop lurched at Shaun, grabbing handfuls of fleece.

  Shaun struggled, but Trumper gripped him with all his strength. Roaring with victory, he held the sheep above his head, stepped down from the tractor, and flung Shaun into the dark hole of the quarry.

  Shaun managed a horrified, yelping bleat. Then he was falling.

  He squeezed his eyes closed.

  It was all over.

  A strong hand gripped him. Shaun’s eyes fluttered open. He bleated weakly as he looked up into a face that was frowning with worry.

  Shaun bleated: I’m OK.

  Relieved, the Farmer held tightly onto Shaun’s hoof while still clutching Bitzer’s stretched ear with his other hand.

  Hearing a growl, Shaun glanced back towards Trumper. The Animal Containment Officer was now hopping around in agony. Attached to his foot was the tiny Slip. She growled and sank her teeth in as hard as she could, making Trumper scream. Hopping and swearing, he bent over to pull the small dog off his foot. Ripped trousers strained over his bottom, revealing his underwear — red underwear.

  Shaun’s eyes widened as he heard a rumble of hooves in the darkness, and a bellow of rage.

  With a shriek, Trumper flew through the air, legs windmilling wildly and his hands clutching his backside where the bull’s horns had ripped new holes in his pants.

  Splat.

  Cheers and laughs split the air as Animal Containment Officer Trumper landed headfirst in a steaming pile of fresh manure.

  The bull scratched a front hoof in the dirt in satisfaction of a job well done.

  flapping at sheep slowly making their way back toward the barn. Shaun trailed over, brightening when he found himself standing next to the sheepdog. It had been a difficult day, but everything had turned out OK, and it had been fun, sort of. Grinning, he punched Bitzer on the arm.

  Bitzer gave him a look, which turned into a snigger. He punched Shaun back.

  A second later, they were hugging. With a cough of embarrassment, Shaun finally let his friend go. Looking out over his beloved farm, he yawned and stretched. It was almost dawn — time to turn in.

  A moment later he stumbled to a halt, surprised to find a note fluttering under a stone by the barn. Curiously, he picked it up, and read. “Woof, woof, bark, woof.” Shaun’s eyes widened. Slip’s note said she was happy her new friends had made it home, but it wasn’t the place for her. It wasn’t her home.

  Shaun sniffed, a lump in his throat. Slip had become a friend. She was welcome to stay on the farm. Maybe the Farmer would adopt her. Waving the note, he dashed off in the direction of the road, arriving just in time to see Slip lit by the headlights of an oncoming bus.

  The bus screeched to a halt. The door hissed open. The female bus driver peered down as Slip clambered aboard. Shaun couldn’t help noticing that the driver’s face was a little bit lopsided, and that the smile that lit up her face when she spotted the little dog was crooked. Slip’s face, too, broke into a grin as she looked up at the bus driver. A second later, she was lifted into the air. Shyly, she licked the woman’s face and was rewarded with a squeal of happiness.

  It was love at first sight.

  As the bus rumbled away toward the city, Slip waved good-bye.

  A tear in his eye, Shaun waved back.

  As the sun rose, a bird tweeted on the branch of a tree outside the barn. The rooster, miffed that he had been beaten to it, stood up on a gatepost and filled his lungs. A second later, a loud crow echoed around Mossy Bottom Farm. In the barn, Shaun grinned up at his old friend the useless spider, and sprang to his feet. Throwing the window open, he took a deep breath of farm air and the smell from the pigsty. He was home, and it was a beautiful spring day.

  Bitzer sat up, hit his head on the kennel ceiling, and cricked his neck back into place. He tucked his newspaper under his arm and set off for his favorite tree. As he crossed the farmyard, he gave a tiny skip.

  With a cheerful ding-a-ling-a-ling, the Farmer’s alarm clock went off in his bedroom. The Farmer thumped it and sat up, scratching his head in confusion. He turned to look out the window. Everything was fine. He was at home and the sun was shining. It must have all been just a very strange dream.

  Chuckling, the Farmer jumped out of bed and tore a page from the calendar: “THURSDAY.”

  A few moments later, the farmhouse door burst open. Grabbing it before it could squash Bitzer against the wall, the Farmer rumpled the sheepdog’s ears with an affectionate “heh, heh” and set off for the barn. For a second, Bitzer grinned in surprised delight, and then the door slammed open again, squashing him against the wall. Without a backward glance, a partied-out pig — who had been asleep in the bathtub — scurried away.

  The barn doors were thrown open. Grinning, Shaun shoved the other sheep aside and appeared front and center while Bitzer held up the clipboard holding the day’s schedule.

  At the sight of the clipboard, Shaun’s heart sank a little. He sighed. So much for a day off.

  At the sight of the schedule, a horrified shudder ran through the Farmer.

  Bitzer blinked up at him, hesitating. Then he lowered the clipboard. After staring at the schedule for half a second, the sheepdog ripped it off, scrunched it into a ball, and tossed it over his shoulder.

  Mower Mouth watched as it rolled to his feet, and then ate it.

  A cheer rang out from the barn. The Farmer patted Bitzer on the head.

  With a happy sigh, the Farmer flopped into an armchair and picked up a steaming mug of tea while he flicked the television on. The news was on. A man suffering memory loss had disappeared from the hospital. The Farmer tutted, then shot forward, spitting tea as a photo of the missing man appeared. It was him!

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  © 2015 Aardman Animations Limited and Studiocanal S.A. 2015.

  All Rights Reserved. Shaun the Sheep ® and the character

  ‘Shaun the Sheep’ © and ™ Aardman Animations Limited.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  First U.S. electronic edition 2015

  The illustrations in this book were created digitally.

  Candlewick Entertainment

  an imprint of

  Candlewick Press

  99 Dover Street

  Somerville, Massachusetts 02144

  www.candlewick.com