Notes from a small dog: soap and scissor alert

She’s been in and out of the house like a yoyo the past few days. ‘Won’t be long, girlie’ she says… and sometimes that’s right. Sometimes she’s ages, but then, I know she’s been to see my boy, so that’s sort of okay. I can smell where she’s been you know.

And she’s up to something again, I can tell. Doesn’t matter where I go, she has squirty, sneezy stuff in her hands and she’s rubbing away. On the up side, that prob’ly means we’re having a visitor. Which means better ball-throwing and a better class of cheese. On the down side, I know what’s coming next. Yeah, she’s predictable like that. She’ll look at me, with her head on one side and say ‘you smell of dog’ … and I know she’ll want me in the bath.

What, may I ask, am I supposed to smell of? It’s not as if she cares for any of the perfumes I’ve tried out in the woods and fields… So smelling of dog, I feel, is a reasonable compromise. Now, we’ve been through all this… I don’t need to tell you the horror stories. You’ve seen the pictures… locked in that little room with all the soapy stuff and no escape route…

‘Course, if she wants  to mop the floor, bleach the tub and wipe the walls, that’s up to her. I can shake with the best of them. Still, she’s got to catch me first and I’m getting really good at wriggling into small spaces and going dead weight when she tries to carry me upstairs… I may be getting a little heavier too… it’s winter, you know. I need my reserves… and my coat is all thick and glossy… doesn’t need the soapy stuff if you ask me.

If that’s not bad enough she keeps trying to creep up on me with scissors. Now come on… would you let her near your ears with scissors? One slip and half my means of self-expression are up the Swanee… As far as I can see, any knotty bits in my ears will come out eventually. No, she says… grooming, she says… Grooming? Coming from her, that’s a bit much… but my lips are sealed…

And she wants to clip the fur round my toes! Now, I don’t get to wear boots outside… long fur keeps my toes warm… and whatever she says, it does not make me look strange. And if she’s supposed to be a hobbit, shouldn’t she approve of furry feet? She’s probably jealous…

‘Course,being jealous is a bit pointless. I have furry feet because I’m supposed to. She doesn’t and isn’t. Why should she want something she really isn’t in need of? Still, I gather that there’s a lot of that about this time of year. Me, I don’t need much. Just food, somewhere warm… like her sofa… to sleep, cuddles and tennis balls. Just the basics really. And the odd bite of cheese if there’s any going… which is really a service to her. Too much isn’t good for her, you know… but I like to help out.

Oh hello… she’s going under the stairs now… wonder what she’s after in the cupboard there? She doesn’t often go in there… and she’s pulling loads of stuff out…and I never get to go in there, so I might have to go and protect her from spiders and such… and have a look around… you know, just in case…before she shuts the door again…

Must dash…

Much love,

Ani xxx