My Memoir by Watson – Chapter 1.
It was a dark and stormy night… when, with a good deal of whining and wailing, my mother gave birth to nine of us. Gone were the cosy days of compact living in a snug sac. I was licked off by a rough tongue then flipped over for a quick check of my private parts. Turns out I’m one adorable son of a bitch, whatever that means. So are five of the others. We’re a mixed bunch. Some are blue Merle, like me and my dad, which means we have fancy speckled coats. The others looked like mum, in black, white and tan. It’s easy to tell us apart by our markings and our tails. Some have long tails, other short. My short one wags perfectly well, thank you very much.
Life in our den was easy living. One long round of suckling and sleeping. Then strangers began arriving to check us out. I knew I was special when a family came and it was my turn to be lifted from the den. They oohed and aahed but made far too much fuss of my mother. So I played my best card — I fell asleep on the seat between them. Ha! By the time I woke up, they were shaking hands with the lady who feeds my mother.
Didn’t see them for a while after that. Then one day, out of the blue, the others went out to play and I was left in the den. The family returned and this time they had a large bag and a long ropey thing that they attached to a smaller rope around my neck. The very cheek of them. It made me scratch and was impossible to remove. I’m working on that.
I refused to go into the bag so they put me in a harness and attached me to the car seat. I howled for a bit — just to let them know that I knew what they were up to — but my heart wasn’t really in it. Here I was, being loved and scratched behind my ears for hours on end without even asking. I know on which side my bone is buttered. We stopped twice to drink and let them go to the bathroom.
I slept in my new basket by their bed that night. Didn’t mean to sleep as well as I did. My job was to yowl and express angst at being separated from… I forget who.
My new day den is nothing like my old one. It has thick blankets to doze on and more places to pee. And most importantly, it’s all mine. No pesky siblings to share with.
We do have two cats. They look a bit like me but haven’t yet learned to play tag. Instead of chasing back, they jump over the kitchen gate and disappear. Spoil sports. I tried to sort them out but one of them accidentally clipped me around the ear, so I’m pretending to let them decide for a bit.
I have the best indoor paddling pool. It doubles up as a water bowl. My food was on a low shelf in an alcove, but I rearranged the place and now nap there.
We spent the first couple of days just lounging around the kitchen. Plenty to do. Chew sticks and stuff between naps. Whenever I want to go and play in the garden, I pee on the floor. We go into the garden lots, but I prefer to pee in the warm kitchen. Much better than getting wet grass on my manly bits.
Then three of the family disappeared on Monday morning and left me with Her. We had fun until she stuffed me back into the harness and attached me to the back seat of the car. I yowled, fought and managed to escape. Then fell off the seat. Luckily, that was just about when we arrived.
In we went. This place was brilliant. Loads of great smells. I chose a chew stick with bacon wrapped around it and was just tucking in when a stranger popped a red raincoat over my head. Looked pretty smart too, according to all the admiring gasps from those present. Then things got hairy. Off came the raincoat and on went a smaller harness. This one is impossible to get off — believe me, I’m trying.
We went to a cafe today. They had great water bowls too. This one was plastic and no trouble to tip up. Which might be why we sat outside and not indoors. The lady who brought my water also brought a blanket and a drink for Her. Her drink came in a mug.
I’m slowly learning the lingo. Sit means putting my butt on the ground for an instant treat. Awwww means I’m the most beautiful and intelligent puppy in the world. Kissa means that I should hang on for a few minutes and pee when we get back into the house. Come means I should go to them when I’ve finished what I’m doing.
I’ve been here almost a week now. Time flies when there’s so much to chew. I do enjoy a good cable but every time I get cracking, they bribe me with a chew stick. Or a toy. Or a good tummy rub. I’ve not given up, though.
My name’s Watson, by the way. I rather like it. It’s a bowtie kind of name. I’d prefer Lord Watson, but no one’s buying. Turns out they need training too.
I’ll let you know how they get on in my next instalment.