It is still within the range of reasonable memory, even for those afflicted with ‘Alzheimers’, that I was stupidly left to look after a dog. Being in charge of a vehicle, being permitted to be a sperm donor, shaving myself, all these things are easy enough for me to do. Easy enough for anyone. But to allow me to be in charge of a dog is, I admit it myself, totally irresponsible.
The first time I saw it laying in the backyard I thought it was a kids home-made toy. Four sticks glued to the four corners of a very dead and dehydrated fox. ‘Look Mum I just made myself a marionette’.
I will not go into the reasons why I ended up with this mutt but let it be known that I did. The word ’dog’ only springs to mind after consulting several dictionaries because what landed in my lap in the car was an emaciated piece of skin and bone. The only thing that denoted it was actually alive was the fact that it planted one of the wettest french kisses I’ve ever had straight onto my mouth while I tried to take my seat behind the wheel of the car.
Needless to say that this dog-shaped wall hanging, on checking with the RSPCA, was so starved that it was probably in the process of digesting its own stomach. The Inspector did not want me to return it to the owner but to surrender it there and then. It may have been a warranted move, but as this ‘thing’ did not belong to me I was hardly in a position to just give it away.
My first steps were to give it a series of suitable gifts. Protein powders, worming chews, flea treatment and soap. It’s first real meal, all previous ingestions being small healthy snacks in the car, was 400 grams of Pet Sausage the size of a can of Pineapple, which it took into its stomach in one huge gulp. It was like watching a Boa engulf a sheep.
After a few days it slowly filled out into a male ‘Whippet’ which began the attachment process by marking all around the house. This is a high-maintenance breed, which means they never ever bloody leave you alone except when attending to their own penile needs with their tongue. They lay around wherever you are and like a painting the eyes follow you around the room. If you move it moves and those ever watchful eyes are there again.
I have nothing against dogs, but I don’t want to own one. The fact that they eat at one end at shit at the other does not phase me, even little babies do that. But you can’t use hotels with a dog, taxi’s or Eclipse Ford loaners, can’t fly with a dog and most likely can’t even smoke with a dog.
More importantly Dumb and Dumber my two Alpacas stress out and carry on like two hysterical teenagers at a horror movie whenever the dog bounces outside the house.
As for the sheep they couldn’t care less. If your brain recognises an object then you run away from it. No reason, just panic. Quiet normal for them. Mine run from themselves quite often.
It was a bit different for Maxine. She had a bit of a turn at first sighting. If memory serves me right the dog was inside when Maxine came around the end of the house looking for her afternoon snack. She bleated as is usual to let me know she was there.
Before I could get to the door the piece of rope with four legs was out to see what the strange new noise was. By the time I got to the door all that was left outside was a slowly descending pall of fine dust where Max had been standing only seconds before. It was at least an hour before she hove into sight again half-a-kilometre away.
Well look at that! I’ve managed to type my way into a corner again and unable to fit any more of the story in.
It is not as good as ‘The Bold And The Beautiful’ but if you have been sucked in by this piece of fantasised non-fiction then it will be continued.
The first time I saw it laying in the backyard I thought it was a kids home-made toy. Four sticks glued to the four corners of a very dead and dehydrated fox. ‘Look Mum I just made myself a marionette’.
I will not go into the reasons why I ended up with this mutt but let it be known that I did. The word ’dog’ only springs to mind after consulting several dictionaries because what landed in my lap in the car was an emaciated piece of skin and bone. The only thing that denoted it was actually alive was the fact that it planted one of the wettest french kisses I’ve ever had straight onto my mouth while I tried to take my seat behind the wheel of the car.
Needless to say that this dog-shaped wall hanging, on checking with the RSPCA, was so starved that it was probably in the process of digesting its own stomach. The Inspector did not want me to return it to the owner but to surrender it there and then. It may have been a warranted move, but as this ‘thing’ did not belong to me I was hardly in a position to just give it away.
My first steps were to give it a series of suitable gifts. Protein powders, worming chews, flea treatment and soap. It’s first real meal, all previous ingestions being small healthy snacks in the car, was 400 grams of Pet Sausage the size of a can of Pineapple, which it took into its stomach in one huge gulp. It was like watching a Boa engulf a sheep.
After a few days it slowly filled out into a male ‘Whippet’ which began the attachment process by marking all around the house. This is a high-maintenance breed, which means they never ever bloody leave you alone except when attending to their own penile needs with their tongue. They lay around wherever you are and like a painting the eyes follow you around the room. If you move it moves and those ever watchful eyes are there again.
I have nothing against dogs, but I don’t want to own one. The fact that they eat at one end at shit at the other does not phase me, even little babies do that. But you can’t use hotels with a dog, taxi’s or Eclipse Ford loaners, can’t fly with a dog and most likely can’t even smoke with a dog.
More importantly Dumb and Dumber my two Alpacas stress out and carry on like two hysterical teenagers at a horror movie whenever the dog bounces outside the house.
As for the sheep they couldn’t care less. If your brain recognises an object then you run away from it. No reason, just panic. Quiet normal for them. Mine run from themselves quite often.
It was a bit different for Maxine. She had a bit of a turn at first sighting. If memory serves me right the dog was inside when Maxine came around the end of the house looking for her afternoon snack. She bleated as is usual to let me know she was there.
Before I could get to the door the piece of rope with four legs was out to see what the strange new noise was. By the time I got to the door all that was left outside was a slowly descending pall of fine dust where Max had been standing only seconds before. It was at least an hour before she hove into sight again half-a-kilometre away.
Well look at that! I’ve managed to type my way into a corner again and unable to fit any more of the story in.
It is not as good as ‘The Bold And The Beautiful’ but if you have been sucked in by this piece of fantasised non-fiction then it will be continued.
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