I howled for Lilly, my paws scrabbling on the windowsill, the gut retching emotion of abandonment filled my soul as I skulked to a corner and whined a little. I chewed enough trainers to make a shoe repair man retire early. Alas nothing filled the gaping hole left by my Lilly running off 6 hours a day to playschool… selfish git.
A wise dog once said ‘chew a shoe once and you”ll get taught a lesson. Do it again and you’re F%$KED. So I was in the dog house, and of course it was raining ‘dogs and dogs’ as I sat in my kennel paws over my ears to cut out the loud rain. “So in the dog house eh? It happens to us all my friend.” A dark smelly shadow lingered in the corner of the rainy garden.
“But don’t be disheartened, this is no time for thinking about what you did wrong, its about working out how you got caught!” An old wet raggedy dog stepped into the cascading light that beamed from the kitchen window. A comforting smile radiated from his withered gray snout. I stumbled forth in a squeaky surprised shout “I, I chewed 13 pairs of shoes.”
“You bloody tit.” The comforting smile turned into a disapproving and judging frown. “You simple or something? Chewing shoes? that’s not worth doing time over you Muppet, you gotta go for the big score, the type you bury then leave to your puppies!” The wiffy old stranger seemed to get very excited at this point. “Chewing bloody shoes, a kennels to good for ya!” Then a thought came to mind as I sat there listening to something that can only be described as a fury toilet.
“Who are you and, sorry to be so forward but, how did you get into my garden?” A wistful solemn look overtook the features of this drenched fluffy latrine. “I, my young pup, am the dog who was sent to the eternal dog house.” The old mutt swung road with paws reached out appealingly for maximum effect, giving his voice a tearful wobble. “That’s right mate, I’s got the life sentence to the dog house, never again to snooze by the fire, nor nuzzle me owners tootsies.”
After a remarkable amount of thoughtful silence he joyfully sprung up to me, paw out stretched and yelped “Terry’s the name recruitment’s me game.” Shaking my paw ferociously as I wobbled up and down trying to offer him my name “Pa, Pau, aul, ul’s my name, and I ha hav ven’t really figured out what my ga game is ye yet… I like chasing cats?” This dramatic creature fell back in amazement almost knocking over a garden gnome.
“You wot! Haven’t gotta game? We all love chasing those fluffy bastards, but we gotta have a special game young sprog, its a crazy old world out there, you cant float around like a fart in the wind, you’ll be whist into troubled waters that way tiny chops.” His numerous connected analogies were causing me problems, but maybe he was onto something, now Lilly was gone for a large part of the day I needed direction, I needed purpose! I needed to see the world!
“Shoo go on shoo you mangy old mutt how did you get in here!” Light boomed from the back door as Lilly’s mother shot out of the house aiming a frying pan right at Terry’s face. When the moment calls for it that old timer sure can move like a track runner on a questionable performance enhancing concoction.
A fading bark bellowed from the bushes “You gotta have a game pup, you gotta have a dream!” With Terry’s crackly old voice track running through my mind I laid down to sleep as the rain pattered around me. “Paul’s me name, escaping is me game.” For the first time since Lilly left for school I truly slept like a dog.