I’d invite you over but the rest of the family is highly contagious. They’re coughing and spluttering so much that industrial strength gas masks are in order and you’d probably need to be fumigated on departure. Put in isolation. I don’t know whether it’s bird flu, pig flu or plain “old tractor with a broken muffler flu” but the humans have been coughing and barking so much that I’m starting to feel quite redundant. They don’t just scare away the posty but they’ve also managed to scare off Grandma. That’s a serious matter. That means no ham scraps and I can assure you that while I might look well fed, I am actually starving!!!
Make that wasting away. Almost skeletal! Near death.
Don’t let all this fur deceive you. The truth is that underneath all that fluff, I’m actually just skin and bone. I’ve even been forced to snatch bread back from the ducks to survive. Although this could be considered stealing, I firmly believe that charity begins at home. I’m family. It’s dogs before ducks. That’s my new motto and I might just go into politics with it yet!
My backyard
Anyway, since the rest of the family is sick, I’ve taken it upon myself to show you around my new backyard otherwise known as “Pittwater”. It’s a beautiful place but it’s a bit rough on tennis balls. I’ve actually watched quite a few of them float off into the great blue yonder. I’m a sheep dog, not a retriever. I don’t like getting my feet wet.
My Ball!
Where there’s a will, there’s a way around getting your paws wet!
Life is pretty good here but not without its challenges.
There’s an agro pair of plovers nesting next door and you would think we were in some kind of war zone the way they swoop and dive at everything going passed. They very definitely need serious anger management training. Of course, it didn’t help matters when another dog ate one of their eggs last week. I don’t condone that sort of thing but it wasn’t me. Not all dogs are murderers. That said, their egg was left lying around on the grass. Everybody else knows the 10 second rule. If it’s on the ground, it belongs to the dog! As you can see, plovers aren’t exactly the best of parents parking their eggs on the grass like that.
While it’s been pretty heartbreaking watching my tennis balls drift out to sea and the plovers are a menace, my biggest complaint is reserved for management.
Please explain why the kids are allowed in the house but the dog is shut out! I’m pretty easy going and not easily offended but you tell me, who has the better manners? Not that I’m keeping score or anything but when it comes to obedience, I win paws down. Who eats all of their breakfast and their dinner and their snacks and doesn’t have to be nagged, cajoled and reminded to eat? Who is neat and tidy, dressed and ready to go at all times and never loses a shoe or a sock or forgets to take their school bag? I’ve never, ever been in time out. Moreover, I’ve never spilled milk and cereal on the floor and expected someone else to clean it up and I don’t leave wet towels, dirty undies or stinky socks lying around either. I am fully self-contained. Ready to go.
Yes, I know my poop stinks but doesn’t yours?!!
I might kill fleas but I have never hurt my family.
My only crime is being a bit high maintenance and needing a bit more attention than average. I get lonely.
That said, I do concede that I smell like a dog and might leave a little bit of fur lying around but that’s hardly a crime. They could always get a short-haired dog!
So while you are reading my postcard from the comfort of your home just think of me pining away on my pat malone outside with nothing but the possums, bandicoots and those wretched plovers for company all night.
Such is life!
xx Bilbo
PS I am actually quite a happy dog. I just needed to vent.
PPS I am such a good dog that even when I am momentarily let inside say when the weather gets particularly bad, I usually take myself out again. I don’t like breaking the rules.
Sunset Pittwater. I know I’m supposed to be a working dog but now I’m into meditation.
Beyond the Flow 