The Dog who Wriggles

 

Clio’s Story

me among the daisies; I love lying in the sun

I’m such a lucky dog now. But life was hard in the beginning. Born and bred to be a hunting dog, I was frightened by loud noises. I was frightened of the shouting men; frightened of the cracking guns. The men didn’t want me because I wasn’t a good hunting dog. They left me by the side of a road. I spent a long time making do, scavenging, hiding, always hungry. I was scared all the time for a long time.  I ran away from everything. There were other dogs like me, though. We searched for food together. They were my friends. I was never scared of other dogs. 

One day someone captured me and took me in a smelly van to that noisy place, the pound, where all the other dogs were in cages, some together, some on their own. I was in my own cage at the beginning. I was very lonely. Surrounded by dogs but separated by cages. At least I felt safer, and people brought me food. It was still very scary, specially when they came into the cage to leave the food or clean with cold water and brooms. The gates clanged open, people with big boots marched in then out and the gates clanged shut behind them.

all the dogs would jump up to see over the cement walls and they would all be barking

The Dog who Owns the World

 

Argo’s Story

Me, Argo

1. Beginnings

They say it’s a dog’s life and I tend to agree. My world is vast; my pack attendants are considerate and generally attentive; I have all the canine company I require (if at times she can be over-eager and needy); I sleep and eat well; I get to play adequately, if never enough. All in all I consider myself a lucky dog. 

My earliest memories are not so rosy. I recall a cage, a cement floor, strong dog smells, other puppies, my mother, doors banging open and shut, freezing cold, frightening brooms and water swishing through the cage, visitors coming and going, the other puppies leaving one by one until it was just me and my mother. She started growling at me over the food bowl. I was hungry. Then my future pack attendants came. The male one held me in his arms. That was nice. When they came back they took me away forever. I was not sorry. I wonder if my mother also found a home?

This isn't me, Argo, but it's the kind of place I was born in

On my way to my new home in the car, I vomited onto the floor. I was sitting in the front at the feet of my female attendant and it was all too much for me. Perhaps I was just getting rid of my last ties to the cage. When we arrived I was very still and quiet. They put me on the ground: standing there I slowly stared and sniffed at my new world. Everything was so different from the cage. The space. The many good smells. The green grass that I now love to roll on. 

You have to admit, I was extra-cute. Here I am, just taking it all in, soon after arrival at my new home...

My attendants were very kind. First of all they gave me a name. I learnt this straight away. Argo. They fed me and played with me and took me for walks on my hill. In those days they didn’t use a leash. I think they were new to being pack attendants. When I had a fight with a boar they started using a leash.  But in the early days, when I could, I would slip out through the gate and chase the deer and wild boar for a while; but I always came back. Then my attendants put in a double gate and slipping out became very tricky.

wild boar are the worst Invaders of my Outer Territories