Autumn Days

Wet and muddy. "Wash the dog" is what she says every morning after our walk, and I respond by trotting behind the house, where the garden hose is, to be washed. Then I get rubbed with my big, brown towel, which I love. It has rained a lot and the river has flooded, and a heap of new sticks have been washed ashore. I pick one up every day and carry home. The bigger, the better.

Fighting Dog

I got into a fight today. It is these two dogs called Millie and Midge; they came too close to my garden gate. I was out there when they came running up, so I went to chase them away. Unfortunately there are two of them, so they had me on my back. We made a lot of noise and our owners came running and shouting. Shame. I normally don't mind Millie and Midge. They are ok, but now I don't know what will happen next time I see them.

Chasing Rabbits

When the old folks go for their prescriptions, which is often as they take a lot of pills, I get to visit the park behind the pharmacy. These are my favourite trips, because there are rabbits in that park, and chasing rabbits is a great sport. Yesterday I almost got one. They say that will never happen, but you just wait and see.

Perfume

There is a spot in the corner of the park where there is the most enchanting aroma. There is now a bit of a hollow in the grass, formed by the many dogs that have been rolling in that particular place, to get some of that lovely smell on their coats. In the middle of the hollow there is the flattened carcass of a long-dead rat. Most of us end a good roll by doing a little piddle, thus making the original smell even more pungent. I have been there several times, but each time mom gets very upset, throws sticks in the river for me to fetch and washes me all over when we get home. She even wiped me with a lavender perfumed tissue this morning. This removes all the good smell. I must roll again tomorrow.

Waiting

Saturday afternoon, raining outside. They are both sitting at their computers, staring at their screens. Mom upstairs, dad downstairs. I just wait. Wait for them to get up and have their "three o'clock" and take me out for my walk. I'm ready. I'll jump up as soon I hear the little tune the computer plays when it is turned off. I know it well. Com' on . . .