MONDAY – 5.25am, the fat one comes down to take me for my morning walk. “It’s raining cats and dogs lad” he says as he puts on those waterpoof trouser things and that huge anorak in the porch. Does he think I’m stupid? There are no cats out there and I’m the only dog around here. I’m not that bothered about getting wet if I’m honest – true, it doesn’t do a lot for my fur coat (it’s real by the way, I don’t do faux) and the thin one spends more time grooming me than a randy priest in a vestry full of choirboys so what do I care?
I put my head out of my Jackdoor whilst he’s faffing-on with those huge boots – it’s really throwing it down out there but he looks like he’s about to dive the wreck of the Titanic not stroll up the lane and back. “Come on, let’s get off!” I bark.
TUESDAY – there I am minding my own business (just sniffing the body of a dessicated toad I found near the pond) when this police dog comes to the gate. Now I’ve met this lad before – he’s not much more than a pup (aren’t they getting younger these days?) and a bit officious if you ask me. “Jack Shepherd?” he asks, I nod “there’s been a report of someone answering your description worrying sheep around here last Wednesday afternoon.” I sigh – it wasn’t me, I’ve got an alibi – I was with the gardener from 12 ’til three and then the thin one came home.
We both know he’s got nothing to go on – he’s certainly not going to be feeling my collar. Anyway, I can see from here he hasn’t got a lead. I walk away and leave him to it. Whoever heard of a Shepherd chasing sheep anyway? I mean I might bark at the odd lamb if they get a bit too close to my fence, but that’s all.
WEDNESDAY – off to the vet’s again for this year’s jabs. I don’t mind the vet as much as some of the others do – last time we visited there was this ferret going mad in a box – obviously I calmed him down. I like ferrets: done slowly with a little garlic and some onion they’re very nice indeed.
Oh good, it’s Sarah Vet this afternoon, not that bloke. I do like the ladies, but if I’m honest, not quite as much as I used to do before that time when I went home with a slightly sore undercarriage and the fat one was shown what looked like two boiled sweets in a jar. Anyway, there’s lots of cuddles and “weren’t you braves?” so I’m happy enough.
THURSDAY – I hear back from Guide Dogs For The Blind: “Dear Mr Shepherd, many thanks for your application to be a guide dog for the blind. I regret to inform you that at this time we are not seeking to recruit new colleagues. We will however, be pleased to keep your name on file…” yeah, yeah, whatever. I know the score. Looks like it’s back to stacking shelves in Pets At Home. Thought I might at least get an interview – mind you I did mess up that one for Hearing Dogs for the Deaf – they said I was over-qualified just because I signed a whole episode of Downton Abbey and apparently I was only supposed to put the subtitles on.
I suppose I’ve yet to hear back from Smelling Dogs for the Anosmic, so there’s still hope of a more fulfilling career.
FRIDAY – worst day of the lot. Yesterday I hacked into the fat one’s account at Tesco.com and placed an order. They finally delivered at 3.10pm and it’s so disappointing. I’ll be honest, I was expecting a fat moggy I could build from scratch and then spend hours chasing round the garden. Instead, I get this:
Sometimes life can deal you some hard knocks. I suppose on the plus side I’ve still got a nice den, owners who love me, good food, lovely walks and lots of friends on the internet. Do leave me a message below – it’s great to hear from you.
© Jack Shepherd, 2012.