My Memoir by Watson – Chapter 2

Field trip

It’s been all go these past two weeks — going on the kitchen floor, on the living room floor, on the hall floor, and occasionally on the grass. They get very excited when I go on the grass. If I poop on the grass they start dancing about. It’s all good for cadging a treat, but I’m trying not to spoil them. 

It’s also been an interesting couple of weeks. Turns out that our den is much bigger than they’re letting on. I sneaked up a flight of stairs and found a room with a handy supply of spare chew socks on the floor. I’ve added this info to my mind map. I’m planning to return. But if our den is so big, why have they made my shelf smaller? It’s not nearly as comfortable to sleep on now. I stick out.

Also turns out there is another dog in our den. He lives in the shoe cupboard in the hall. He’s a tricky devil. They ignore him, but I’ve got his number. Every time I glance his way, even from the very corner of my eye, he’s looking at me. Out of the corner of his. His eyes are odd. One blue, one brown. He’s about my size but not as handsome as me. His right ear sometimes sticks up.

There he was again!

It’s weird though. We went shopping, and I’m pretty certain that he wasn’t in the car, but blow me down if he wasn’t in the shop. Watching me, he was. Bold as brass. I barked to let him know I’d seen him. He looked as if he was barking too, but I can out bark him any day. The shop assistant thought we were both sweet. There’s no hope for some.

But if he’s going to live in my den, he’d better start pulling his weight. He never shows up when I need him on my side. We dogs should stick together, two against two. The cats don’t play fair. Doesn’t seem right that they jump when we can’t. I know it’s just a question of time, I can do loads of things now that I couldn’t do two weeks ago.

I can get the skirting off the kitchen cabinets and DVDs off the shelves. Then I swap them for chew sticks and toys. Not a bad deal, really. If a DVD is worth a bone with bacon, what could I get for a cat? Ha! Just wait till I can jump.

More my style

We been on a few trips in the car. Sometimes I sing, sometimes I don’t. It keeps them on their toes. We went to the airport and I found us a much better ride than ours. Sadly, they didn’t take the hint.

Another time we went to a big field of grass where a very nice lady taught them how to run and call my name. When they get too far away, my job is to bring them back in return for a little cheese, which is fair play. I love cheese and chicken. All I’ll say about veggies is if they wanted me to eat carrot, they should’ve got a rabbit. Anyway, we’ve been practicing this walking malarkey, but I wish they’d make their mind up. Off we go. I lead the way. They stop. Then they say we should go. So, I do. And they stop. If they would just make up their minds, we’ve get to places so much faster. Or at least we’d get home faster. If they want me to leave the garden, I prefer to be carried. I need my strength for the run home.

Except when I go and play with my pal Yoshi. She’s more sensible. When she runs, she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t share her sticks either, but that’s ok. I always grab a quick chew when she’s finished with them. Then we go for lunch and lie under a table togetherish. Not sure why she doesn’t want me to lie closer, I wish she would. My bit of the floor is wet. But next time you go to a restaurant, get a bowl of water and crispbread. The bowls are easy to tip and they have the best crispbread. Homemade. I never get homemade crispbread at…home. What’s up with that?

Me and my pal Yoshi

I do like things that give my teeth a decent scratch. They itch and have been causing me a spot of bother. Things keep getting stuck in them. Trouser legs, sweater sleeves and fingers. Her wrist the other night. Such a hullabaloo. But nobody seemed to care about my teeth. Not one of them asked if they were ok. I wouldn’t mind, but earlier that day I’d slid in the water that someone had left by my bowl. My feelings were hurt all the while she was in the ER. Then we swapped licks for hugs and she called me a good boy. Ah well, if they want licks I’ll try and remember. I need to be in my family’s good books. They keep me in chew sticks and blankets. And I love them. Warts and all. They’re Team Watson.

I’m eleven weeks old today. Bigger than the cats and able to wear my proper car harness. Which is a bit of a bugger. The car harness I mean. Impossible to shake off.

Car trips can take it out of a guy

But then again, there’s nothing dignified about falling off the seat so I’m letting them use it.

Signing off now. Time for my elevenses and then we’re meeting a pal at the cafe. Worth the car harness if they have homemade crispbread, right?

Best barks,

Love

Watson 🐾

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