Sadly, humans are often very dim when it comes to understanding us dogs, and they are greatly lacking in appreciation of some of the finer, more artistic things in life.
Take today, for example. Toby, one of the border collies, spotted that Col was barefoot in T-shirt and baggies. This means ‘beach’. Toby told the rest of us what he’d seen, so we all went into our usual expressions of enthusiasm and excitement. All we did was to leap around and yelp a bit, but we got shouted at.
Anyway, we set off down the path with the older human puppy and a couple of human puppies that belong to the human who comes in to mind the younger puppy. As usual, Col wasted far too much time on the way down knocking plants out of his way with that long thing he carries (which, by the way is another thing that spells ‘beach’) so we objected to the slow pace and got yelled at some more.
After that we all had a lovely run on the beach, and Col was pleased with us for finding a human living in a tent in the forest. Col yelled at him, too, but we didn’t mind that and added a few barks to back him up.
Col was in a bad mood at first, muttering, ‘Not a shell in sight,’ every now and again, but then he picked up two things he calls ‘cowries’ one after the other, and cheered up.
That didn’t help later, though. I had found the most divinely ripe pile of poop – the type that gives the most powerful and enduring perfume – and so I rolled in it very thoroughly so as to plaster it firmly, particularly around my neck.
When we got home, the mistress had a lot to say, and the next thing I knew was that I was being dragged off to a hose. Col solved the problem of not being able to put a collar on me – or it would have got in the way of my perfume – by strapping a belt round my middle. I got thoroughly squirted.
When I went inside again, though, there was more yelling. Col then took me to the shower, and had one with me. I don’t know why he needed one because he hadn’t rolled in the perfume.
After lunch he went out on business and came back late complaining about being stuck for an hour at a gridlocked intersection, whatever that may be. Who cares – I got a pasta leftovers dish to lick, so all is right with my world again. I do miss that lovely smell, though. I was hoping to keep it for a week.
Fond woofs and licks,
ANNIE THE AFRICANIS
© June 2012 Colonialist (WordPress/Letterdash)