THE PERVERSE POOCH a full page two part tale as printed in The Chania Post, July edition. Part 1
PERVERSE POOCH by Rick Haynes
Humans are very stupid creatures; I guess it’s in their genes. Just because I have four legs and wag my long bushy tail frequently it doesn’t mean that I can’t understand what they want. All dogs have the ability to read their owner’s minds for they wear their emotions like the clothes on their backs. Bright colours are a signal for a happy day but I’m not going to try to explain black tops and grey trousers. Any deep frown or sharp voice makes me want to growl but my mother raised me better than that.
If only Melody could think clearly for once. She’d soon know that I could read her mind as easily as understanding the desire of the Bichon Frise bitch, aptly named, Beauty. She lives next door and at the moment is nicely in season.
If the neighbours haven’t repaired the hole in the fence by the time I’m allowed back into the garden, Beauty will soon be delivering them a litter of unexpected presents in time for, I think they call it, Christmas.
Patience is necessary for all canines. We try so hard to look after, play games and bark at the right time simply to please our owners, yet do they realise how much we protect them? Think about it, a person comes to the door and I bark loudly. Why? It’s not because I want to as constant barking gives me a sore throat. I’d rather an intruder was overcome with a desire to ignore me and believe that I could be bribed with a tasty treat. No chance. My fangs would sink deeply into the nearest part of their body and I’m not known for letting anything slip from my jaws.
It hasn’t happened yet but I live in hope.
Time to scratch but turning over on this expensive sofa is more difficult that you could imagine. It’s so soft and comfortable. Closing my eyes is sending me to sleep but someone, far, far, away, is calling me. Why did she have to call me, Magic? That’s bad enough but my full name on some pedigree paper is shown as ‘It’s A Kind Of Magic.’ Apparently, she liked a group of humans that made loads of noise and somehow, I reminded her of, I think she said, the singer.
With her fingers stroking my face I’m not for moving but dangling a huge doggy biscuit under my nose is unfair. My eyes open and I follow her hand holding the biscuit.
She doesn’t want to go out as the rain is pouring down, but apparently, I need the exercise and a poo.
Am I begging to be released from my comfortable doggie bed on the sofa? Has she checked her pristine lawn recently?
Only a fool would continue walking in this thunderstorm, but what can I do? She who must be obeyed thinks she has me on a tight lead, but, is that a cat? Without thinking, I pulled hard on the lead. She fell into a large puddle and the spray from a passing lorry soaked her.
Now unleashed, my instincts took over, yet I hesitated.
Should I chase the cat or mate with Beauty?
What do you think?
Part 2 coming soon.