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

In those early days they had to teach me to do my business outside the house. It was easy with the poops, I learnt in a few days, also because I didn’t like the smell either. But pees were harder: I didn’t know when they were going to happen. Finally I learnt and things were a lot easier after that. In fact it became fun to mark the bushes and trees and anything else that needed marking in my garden and in my Outer Territories, when they took me there. I was only a puppy then but later it became my duty and my job, not fun. 

2.Nowadays: Number One Job

Me, Argo, 'splayed out' on my memory foam

I sleep on my comfortable bed in my own room. I heard someone say I have a memory foam mattress, not sure what that is, but I have great dreams on it and it really relaxes me. When I’m really chill, I lie all splayed out, lost to the world and I groan and sigh. At least that’s what I hear my attendants chuckle. I must be dreaming good things. Clio, who arrived when I was 18 months old, has a bed next to mine. She’s not so relaxed; she always seems to have one eye open. More on her later. My pack attendants sleep in another room nearby. If I need them I just have to whine a bit or scratch on the door. They grumble but they’re pretty obedient.

Me, Argo, on my memory foam mattress. Oh and there's Clio too. It's funny how she's always copying my position...

I sleep all night long but I like to get up nice and early to check my Inner Territory which is the smallest part of my territories, the part which lies inside my fence. This is my number one job. During the night there are lots of invasions, but since we got the fence there are no biggies: no deer and no wild boar, no grown-up porcupines or badgers. 

But there are still lots of small invaders: foxes, baby badgers and porcupines, ferrets, pine martens, squirrels, hare and of course mice and hedgehogs. They keep a dog busy.

hedgehogs are really tricky: they roll themselves up into a ball, but it's not the sort of ball I can play with...I try to play, but I yelp instead

So, as I say, I need to be up by daybreak. Usually one of my attendants gets up early enough to let me out, otherwise I need to do the whining or scratching act. This works quite quickly. They stumble out, talk to me, pet me, waste a whole lot of time doing stuff, but finally they open that door to my Inner Territory. 

I’m always the first one out. Clio’s a close second but she gets that I need to be the first one out. I race off in the direction of my fence. Sometimes I know where I’m going, because I’ve smelt or heard the invaders, but other times I just make it look like I know. We can’t let anyone, least of all Clio, think I don’t know what I’m doing...

If there’s a definite invader smell or a definite invader noise, I’m fast and silent and accurate. A real hunting machine. I make a beeline for the invader and chase it from my Inner Territory as fast as possible. Any invader that hesitates or stumbles is taken care of, rapidly and without remorse. I’ve had my share of rough encounters; I’ve the scars to prove it, but generally the invaders have a head start, and they escape to my Outer Territories. 

Don’t tell anyone, but Clio’s faster than me. When she overtakes me I often stop to sniff the air. I need to make it look like I’m stopping on purpose, not covering the fact that she’s faster. Maybe, if she was fiercer and more of a hunting machine, she’d catch more Invaders than I do. But drop that thought, it’s pure speculation and we need to concentrate on me.

Once I’m sure the Invaders have gone outside my fence, I need to bark a lot. I need to sound fierce, to warn them off. The Invaders often taunt me from outside my fence. I hate this. It makes me bark even more. Clio barks too; it feels good. We bark for a long time after the Invaders have disappeared. You never know, they might come back. In any case we need to show everyone that we’re doing our number one job properly.

Sometimes when it rains, the biggest Invaders of all arrive. These are the giant wild boars in the sky who growl and flash their tusks at me. I bark and bark and bark and race up and down to attack them from all parts of my Inner Territory. Sometimes they go away quickly but other times I have to run up and down for hours to make them leave. But I always get rid of them in the end. 

Stupid Clio is scared of the giant wild boars in the sky. She races inside when they growl. She stays on her cushy bed and laps up all the TLC my attendants heap on her. They’re such softies. But that’s okay, it makes them a pushover for when I try the eyebrow thing...More on that later.

Me, Argo, chilling after a tough session getting rid of the giant wild boars in the sky and after my first rubdown...I also like to rub myself all around the sofa: it's perfect for drying and scratching a dog's bod.

After one of these big barking sessions I’m tired and soaked and need to get inside. My attendants are usually waiting there with my towel and are very good at drying me down. I like when they rub me all over. I just stand there and lap it up, like when they remember to brush my coat; that too is a great moment. Pity they’re not so conscientious when it comes to brushing. Sometimes, after the rubdown, I have a treat or two. Then I take a well-earned rest on my comfortable bed.

Talking about getting a good rubdown, another thing I'm partial to is tummy tickles and scratches. Sometimes when my attendants are doing a really good job it just gets too much for me and I collapse onto the floor with a groan. I also love to rub my back on any rug that is at my disposal, I twist and groan and squiggle and squirm: it's such a pleasure!

3. Nowadays: Number Two Job

On a normal day my number two job is marking my Inner Territory. This is no easy task. I need to be sure I’ve got enough pee for all the bushes and trees, posts and car wheels that I have to mark. This job can take quite a while. My Inner Territory inside the fence is pretty big and there are lots of markable things in the garden. 

Me, Argo, keeping an eye on my Inner Territory

If my attendants are around I’m careful not to make my marking too obvious. This is because, sometimes, for no reason I can understand, they complain about it. When I’m doing my darndest to keep the place safe! Not that I’m worried by their complaints, but I need to keep them on side. For treats and things. After all, they’re the ones who provide me with two meals a day, plus treats. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. And don’t pee on too many plants.

Instead, to patrol and mark my Outer Territories I need my attendants to take me out the gate. Sometimes they’re good at this, specially in cold weather. But in hot weather they’re not so willing. It’s hard on a dog not to be able to patrol his wider world regularly and often. My attendants call this “a walk”, like they’re doing it for fun, but for me it’s surveillance, and it’s serious. Sure, when they announce we’re off for a walk I prance about and lollop with joy and all that stuff, because it makes them happy, but in reality I’m a Dog with a Mission.

When I go out the gate I have to sniff and listen very hard. I lift my head to sniff the air, I prick up my ears, I sniff the ground to find tell-tale Invader trails. Sometimes my attendants are not fully cooperative. They pull on my lead, they don’t let me get ahead as fast as I like. And they make too much noise. They talk and shout when we should all be pricking our ears and on the lookout. What is it with these people, that they need to be talking all the time? 

Clio’s pretty good at such moments: she follows my lead. On a walk I’m always up front so I usually notice Invaders before she does. As soon as she sees I’m on the alert because of a sighting or a smelling, she’s onto it too. The problem is she’s too excitable: sometimes she barks or yelps a bit too easily. 

I only bark when I know the Invader is on the run and I can’t see him any more. Before that I’m as silent as a shadow. For example, when I spy a squirrel scuttling up one of my trees, or the white tail of a deer flashing through my woods, I’m very silent and attentive. But once they’ve disappeared from view, it’s time to bark and pull, as hard as possible. 

a female fallow deer, the sort that invades my Outer Territories. Between you and me, I'll never catch one, but I'd do my best to try, given half a chance...

Again, my attendants never let me off the lead to chase the Invaders. In one way it’s so frustrating. After all, what is a patrol without a good showdown once in a while? In another way, and don’t tell them this, sometimes I’m glad they stop me. Once or twice I escaped from my Inner Territory and chased some wild boar up and down the Outer Territory hillside. It was fantastic fun, until the wild boar got too close. That was pretty scary, I admit. Those tusks are for real. We played catch for a while but then my attendant whistled on that good strong whistle of his. It was a perfect time to play the Obedient Dog. 

Like that time they took me to a park in one of my cities (see Extended Territories below) and it was full of strange dogs, one of whom was particularly obnoxious. I couldn’t stand him and he couldn’t stand me and it might have ended badly, except one of my attendants called me sternly and I played the Obedient Dog. Worked a treat: saved face and looked cool for my attendant.

So then there’s my Extended Territories. I love it when my attendants take me in my car to my Extended Territories. These are my biggest territories: they stretch far and wide over my world. They are everything I see from wherever I am. They include my airports and stations, my cities and towns and villages. They include my doctor’s studio, my attendants’ family’s homes, my dog hotel when my attendants go away for a few days, and many other places too numerous to mention. I’m a dog who owns a lot of territory.

part of my Extended Territories: Rome airport, where there are lots of cool posts and bins and columns, just crying out to be marked. Funnily enough, my attendants weren't all that happy that I was carrying out my duties there...

The trouble with my Extended Territories is that my attendants do not take me there on a regular basis. I’m forced to neglect my responsibilities. Each time I get back out, there are always lots of Invaders. I need to leave my marks all over again, and everywhere. The Invaders of the Extended Territories are the worst of all. They’re worse than the deer and wild boar, the foxes and hedgehogs. 

Why? Because they are other dogs, like me. They are also cats, and sometimes horses, but I’m not so worried about those. Cats are small and insignificant (scary too, but I’m not averse to chasing a cat or two) and horses are usually shut up in enclosures of some sort. But these dogs - there are so many of these Invader dogs. I can only wonder at their cheek, spreading themselves all over my territories like that. It’s because my attendants are so slack and I can’t manage to patrol everywhere. So I have to work very hard to get rid of these Invader dogs. Often they’re as angry as I am. Anyone would think they owned the place.

Me, Argo, being fierce. This is my first portrait by a young visiting attendant called Eddie. He was really nice, I hope I get to see him again sometime soon...

Yes, my world is broad and high. It’s everywhere I go. I’m hard put to patrol it all. But it’s my duty, my joy and my pride. And I shall never give up on it.

4. Useful Techniques

I said I’d talk about the eyebrow thing. Although my number one and number two jobs, keeping my Territories under control, are the most important things in my life, there are other things that I love to do. One of them is Play and the other is Eat. For these activities I’m obliged to include my attendants. 

As far as the eating part goes, my attendants are pretty reliable. I get one really good meal a day, in the morning. This has real meat and gravy and other good stuff; I know my attendants make it fresh because I watch them. The other meal is not so exciting, but it’s okay. Kibbles are boring, they come out of a big sack, but they fill the belly and they’re nice to crunch. Then there are treats. Sometimes I’m not sure why my attendants give me treats. I think it happens when I do what they say. I’m not fond of doing what anyone says, but I like to humour them sometimes. They also give me treats when they feel bad, like when they go to my Outer Territories or my Extended Territories without me.

treats...not as good as tidbits, but still tasty

Sometimes I get another sort of treat, which is tidbits. Tidbits are teeny tiny pieces of the great food my attendants eat. This is where the eyebrows come in. It’s a funny thing, but if I stare at my attendants long enough while they are feeding, and kind of wiggle my eyebrows a bit, they chuckle and go all soft and give me tidbits. Some of these tidbits are really tasty, much tastier than anything my attendants normally give me. 

So, it’s a good idea to come back inside my house around their feeding times. That’s the right moment to be in their food area and around the table where they eat, where it’s more likely I’ll get tidbits. Specially if I do the staring/eyebrow thing. The staring/eyebrow thing, together with leaning my head on their laps is a sure-fire winner. Other times, and in this they are completely unpredictable, my attendants look sorry and go out of their way to give me something extra nice, like an egg or some peanut butter, or some cheese or even some tinned mackerel. This is the best. That’s when the eyebrows are really twitching.

cheese is really delicious, but why do they only ever give me such teeny tiny bits?

The other thing I need my attendants for, and which I really, really love, is Play. Just say the word and I’m in, day or night, rain or shine, come what may. Give me my ball, my fox toy, my rope, my squeaking chicken and I’m your dog. Unfortunately, this is where my attendants are not so reliable. I guess they think I don’t need play like I need food. But they’re wrong. I need play.

Once my attendants left me out in the garden for a whole day because they had to go somewhere. They put my mattress outside for me. I thought it was to play with, so I played...

If I can get hold of my ball or my fox (they keep these in a box behind a closed door, very annoying), I can sometimes convince them to play with me. I try the staring/eyebrow thing and they also seem to go for the pricked ears look. If that doesn’t work and they’re sitting like puddings in their chairs watching the noise box, the next best thing is to lean my head on their knees plus do the staring/eyebrow thing. A little whining doesn’t go amiss.

Usually, but not always, they respond in some way. One of my attendants is more into play than the other. She’ll play ball with me in the Inner Territory and that’s why I follow her around with my ball or at least keep a close eye on her movements, in case she has a spare moment. I love the roll-the-ball game where I stand at the top of a slope with my ball in my mouth and at the right moment let it roll down the slope. My attendant is at the bottom of the slope; she stops my ball and throws or kicks it back. This is a low-energy type of game for me that could go on for hours as far as I’m concerned; it’s a bit more high-energy for my attendant which is probably why she doesn’t last so long.

Me, Argo, doing the eyebrow thing so that they'll play with me and my fox

Inside my house it’s hard to keep the attendants concentrated on play. They tend to get distracted, messing around in the food area or, as I said, slumped in front of the noise box, or lying on their beds, or sitting at tables where they spend an awful lot of time fiddling with screens. What I try to do, when they pass by, is to concentrate really, really hard on my ball. I fix it with my gaze, without budging. If they’re not too distracted they’ll look at me, look at what I’m staring at, then they’ll get it. After which, if they’re in the mood, they’ll kick it for me. This is great fun and I don’t mind waiting ages for them to get the message. It’s worth the wait. Another trick is to drop the ball in their laps while they’re acting like puddings. Sometimes they jerk back and make disgusted noises, but in any case they usually throw the ball away. It’s not a bad game.

Despite the fact that my attendants are there to look after me, feed me, play with me, open my doors and my gates and take me around in my car, they can be terribly undisciplined and even disobedient at times. It’s quite disappointing and frustrating, considering all that I do for them, protecting my Territories near and far. 

But when all is said and done, I do love them. I show this by resting my head between their knees, specially when they've been away. It's my way of hugging. 

5. My Constant Companion

Speaking of my attendants and their faults, sometimes they pay too much attention to Clio. I mean, Clio arrived after me. She’s not the owner of the Territories. She’s not the boss. She’s just a wriggly, bouncy dog (and a good runner, I admit) who’s nice company at times but sometimes gets on my nerves. My attendants do almost the same things for her that they do for me. Sometimes this really riles me. 

When they make a fuss of her I need to intervene. Usually I jump on her, nip her legs, push myself under her belly so that she can’t walk, and trundle her around a bit. She doesn’t really mind. I think she loves any sort of attention. I guess that when she was in that terrible place we got her from, there was hardly any attention at all. 

Dog pound at Murlo, near Siena, where we got Clio

That’s another story, but my attendants took me there with them on the day we picked Clio up. This place was bigger than the place where I was born, and much, much noisier. And much, much smellier. As soon as we arrived dozens of dogs started barking and jumping up and down trying to see us. I had to stay in the car, but I could hear and smell everything. My attendants took a while, they were talking with the people there and looking at the dogs. 

I knew they had asked for a female and for a quiet dog, because according to them I was a bit boisterous. They didn’t want two like me, but of course where would they have ever found another me? Boisterous: I think I was a bit lonely and needed more Play: I guess I did sometimes nip attendants in the leg to get them to play with me. They usually just screamed and shouted. It didn’t work, but I kept on doing it. Even when they swirled around and shook their arms at me, that was like a game.

It’s like when I steal a glove or a shoe or a piece of cardboard and run off with it. They almost invariably follow me, running and puffing. This is the best game ever. You steal something and then it’s chasey-chasey time. Perfect. And they almost never catch me, or the thing I’ve stolen.

Anyway, in the end my attendants brought this scrawny, trembling, sad and smelly dog to me and introduced us. Clio liked me straight away, but that goes without saying. More importantly, I liked the look of her, despite her sadness. So she came home with us. She was lying in the front of my car on the floor at my female attendant’s feet and I was in the back with another attendant, the one who gives me lots of cuddles. I couldn’t stop looking at her. I was straining to get closer and I was whining a lot. It was so exciting to have another dog with me. 

Clio, looking scared. She often looks scared. She's a real scaredy-dog. But she's a lot better than she used to be.

Clio was a very scared dog in the early days, but she always liked me. She was never, ever scared of me, even when I played a bit rough. The only thing she never let me do was mount her. At first this was very annoying, but I slowly got used to it and that is something that we never do. She simply doesn’t let me. It’s practically the only time she’s stronger than me, but don’t tell her I said that. By the way, I heard my attendants say that Clio had puppies while she was in her cage. So maybe she’s over that side of things.

6. More on Play

But I’ve gone on too much about Clio. Let’s get back to me, Argo. As I said, Play is really important to me. I remember what they said to the dog trainer who came to try to teach me some of those rules my attendants used to be on about. “Play is more important than food for Argo,” they said. They were right. Fat lot of good it did them, though. The trainer didn’t last three sessions. I think I was a tough case to train. I see past their silly rules. The only one I respect is “Sit” because it always has immediate and agreeable results in the form of tidbits.

Another great game is digging. Clio and I both have a go at that, all around the garden. Sometimes the attendants shout when we do this, but that makes it more fun. When I was a puppy I dug the biggest ever hole under the house, well, under a big rock that is below the house. It was such a big hole, with a dogleg to it (ha ha), I was able to hide 6 whole balls in it! That was in the days before the trainer told my attendants not to leave my toys in the garden. Once they found the balls in the hole and took them away, it wasn't so much fun digging that hole any more. But it's still there and every so often I go to inspect it. You never know what might be hiding there.

There are plenty of other ways to Play. Some are with Clio: we chase and tussle and sometimes pull on a stick together. Sometimes we get a bit carried away and have an argument, but it’s all in good fun. Then there are the lizards. Clio and I spend a lot of time chasing lizards. I often catch them and I’ve discovered they make a tasty snack. I also catch snakes. There are these really long ones that I bite and shake until they break. But I don’t eat them. Too tough. Once I had a great time when it snowed all over my Inner Territories. The snow was so much fun. I jumped in it and rolled in it and chased the flakes. It was wonderful.

Me, Argo in the wonderful snow, with my ball

As I said, they say it’s a dog’s life, but one thing I can guarantee: it’s 100% Argo’s life.

Me, Argo, feeling skittish