Un diwrnod, roedd yr ardd yn dawel. Roedd Draig y ci yn bod yn fachgen da, ac roedd y madarchen ar ben Jeff yn cysgu’n sownd.
Achos bod y Frenhines Branwen wedi dinistrio fan Daf y gath, penderfynodd e chwilio am un arall.
– Nes i weud wrthot ti, meddai Jeff, ei ffrind calico, – rhaid i ti ffeindio blwch plastig. Maen nhw’n gyflymach na rhai cardbord.
– Sai’mod, meddai Daf. – Dwi’n becso am blastig. Beth am y cefnforoedd?
– Pam yffach wyt ti’n becso am y cefnforoedd? Ti’n gath, meddai Jeff.
– Dwi’n becso amdanyn nhw ‘fyd, meddai’r hanner-siarc.
– Chware teg, meddai Jeff.
Aeth Daf am dro o gwmpas yr ardd er mwyn chwilio am flwch plastig. Daeth e o hyd sawl blwch cardbord arall, ond oedden nhw rhy fach i gyd. Doedd dim blwch plastig i gael.
– Beth am ddwyn sied Dewi Sant? awgrymodd Jeff. – Mae hi’n ddigon mawr am dy ddosbarthiade. A byddai hi’n glou ac yn gynaliadwy, achos byddet ti’n ailgylchu.
– Wel, dyna syniad, meddai Daf.
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One day, the garden was quiet. Dragon the dog was being a good boy, and the mushroom on Jeff’s head was sleeping soundly.
Because Queen Branwen had destroyed Dave the cat’s van, he decided to search for another one.
– I told you, said Jeff, his calico friend, – you need to find a plastic box. They’re faster than cardboard ones.
– Dunno, said Dave. – I worry about plastic. What about the oceans?
– Why the hell are you worried about the oceans? You’re a cat.
– I worry about them too, said the half-shark.
– Fair play, said Jeff.
Dave went for a walk around the garden to look for a plastic box. He came across several other cardboard boxes, but they were all too small. There was no plastic box to be had.
– How about stealing Saint David’s shed? suggested Jeff. – It’s big enough for your deliveries. And it would be fast and sustainable, because you’d be recycling.
– Well, there’s an idea, said Dave.
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