Childhood should be fun. Don't let bed wetting spoil that. Dry nights give maximum protection.

So kids can go to bed where we free. Have a dry night sleep. And wake up awesome.

Days start with dry nights. Search dry nights for a free sample. Hey. My name is Otis Gray and you're listening to Sleepy.

Podcasts where I read old books to help you get to sleep and a proud member of the Airwave podcast network.

I have got a wonderful snoozy bedtime story for you tonight. But before we get to tonight's reading, I just want to thank all of our patrons on patreon.com.

Tracy Goudai, Ralph Chen, Sage Torderson, and Emma Boer.

Thank you all so, so much for donating and being a part of making this show. For those of you who don't know, these are all new patrons on patreon.com for the Sleepy podcast.

So if this show helps you get to sleep, you might want to consider going on patreon.com where you can support creators and the work that they make.

And donate a little bit to the show. Most of the pledges are $2 a month. $5 a month gets to access to a special patreon poetry feed where I send you poetry readings twice a month just for donating.

So if the show helps you, you can go to patreon.com slash sleepy radio and donate even a dollar a month. It goes a long way. Thank you.

And as always, the music that you're hearing is by my good friend James LePkowski and the cover of her sleepy is by Gracie Canaan.

So tonight we have a long awaited book that has been requested many, many times. And I'm so happy to be finally getting to it.

And it feels very appropriate with this nice warm weather. Tonight's story is the jungle book by Rudyard Kipling.

It's been a long, long time since I read this. So I'm going to very much enjoy reading this to you.

All you do is off into a deep, deep slumber. So now is the time for you to fluff up your pillow. Just how you like it.

Get real comfortable. Feel yourself melt into your bed. Close your eyes. And let me read to you.

It was seven o'clock of a very warm evening in the CNA Hills when Father Wolf woke up from his days rest. Scratched himself yond and spread out his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their tips.

Mother Wolf lay with her big gray nose dropped across her four tumbling, squealing cubs and the moon shone into the mouth of the cave where they all lived.

Ah, said Father Wolf. It is time to hunt again. He's going to spring down hill in a little shadow with a bushy tail across the threshold and wine.

Good luck, go with you. O chief of the walls. And good luck, then strong white teeth go with noble children that they may never forget the hungry in this world.

It was the jackal, tabaquy, the dishlicker, and the walls of India despised tabaquy because he runs about making mischief and telling tales and eating rags and pieces of leather from the village rubbish heaps.

But they are afraid of him too because tabaquy, more than anyone else in the jungle, is apt to go mad and then he forgets that he is ever afraid of anyone and runs through the forest biting everything in his way.

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