It's a Dogs Life part 3

Jaquenetta German Shepherd Dogs

It's a Dogs Life !

Greetings to you all. I’m in trouble yet again for behaving like a dog and guarding our property. These humans have such contradicting expectations of us. For instance, we are told off if we bark at night, so we stay quiet. About a year ago the human’s car was stolen and we were told off for not barking at the thieves! Well the car was parked out in the lane; if the thieves had entered the garden that would have been a different story. Still I digress. What happened was this dratted Terrier had the audacity to trespass on our property. Technically the property belongs to us but is rented by an old dear of ninety, who thinks us dogs are lovely so I guard her as well. ( A while back late one evening, she rang up Squawk in a tizzy telling her to let us out as there were men in her garden pinching her strawberries. Squawk switched on the outside light and could see no sign of anybody. She let us out anyway so the old lady could see we were about. The old dear met Squawk at the garden fence. “There they are behind the current bushes. They’re running off now, they’re at the gate, good the dogs have frightened them.” Squawk still could not see anyone and neither could we, so we didn’t see any reason to bark but we ran around a bit as the old lady seemed very excited and agitated, waving her arms about and shouting. Squawk found out a few days later that the Doctor had prescribed sleeping pills for the old lady. They were either too strong or she had mistakenly taken too many and she was hallucinating. They both laughed about the incident afterwards.

But to continue with my original tale. There is an American woman ( we call her the witch, she has black hair and a nose not far short of mine ) living in the old Chapel at the bottom of our garden. She’s arty-crafty into designing tapestries and making boring stuff; well it’s not edible so what’s the use of it? She was married to a writer, they divorced and he moved into a bungalow up the road. She found a new chap; he had a yappy little terrier bitch who made her presence known by growling and snarling through the hedge, as soon as her owner became a more permanent fixture. Of course we had to answer the little upstart back. ( Needless to say we got told off and she didn’t ). You can imagine my indignation when a terrier appeared on the property. I naturally assumed it was the aggravating little bitch from next door. Wrong!

Squawk was hanging out the washing. A woman had stopped to admire us and say how lovely we looked. When a terrier entered the outer garden gate and proceeded to walk along the pathway towards us, I instinctively jumped the inner garden gate ( a thing I’ve never done before ) to see it off the premises. Apparently it was a male and belonged to the woman. He had previously met our bitches when they were out for a walk, and had played with them so knew them to be friendly. I chased him off and came straight back when Squawk screamed after me. The problem was, because I had gone our scrawny bitch puppy thought it was alright to follow. She did not come back when Squawk screamed at her. Assuming she would be in deep trouble by the tone of Squawk’s voice, she fled up the farm track opposite seeking sanctuary. The woman with the terrier said “Oh! I’m sorry I suppose I should have had him on a lead.” Squawk smiled weakly at her as she raced off, with the peg bag in her hand, after the absconder. She caught up with her at the farmhouse. The little woman that lives there appeared, ( we refer to her as the poison dwarf, she is a bit gossipy. She asks Squawk questions like, “Do they dogs bite? Are they dogs viscious?” But the humans were watching her out of the window one day; the young bitch was looking over our fence at the poison dwarf who was asking her, “Do you like my new hat? Heh! Do you like my new hat?”) Squawk apologised profusely and she was alright about it, as the bitch had passed several of the farm animals without bothering any of them. Squawk led the bitch home with the peg bag wrapped around her neck. We were all waiting in the garden expecting her to get a good telling off, which she did. But I got one as well, because according to Squawk if I hadn’t chased after the terrier then the young bitch wouldn’t have either, she was only following my lead. Typical. It’s a dog’s life.

P.S. I wish everyone who is owned by one of us a happy and prosperous new year, and especially all those involved in Welfare. The humans are donating the money they would usually spend on our Christmas treats, I am a bit miffed about it but don’t really begrudge it. “There but for the care of my humans could go I. I am one of the lucky ones.”

Copyright J C Hiscox

Previously published in the GSD National Magazine Dec 1996

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