a very cross dog



Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra ‘news flashes’!


Sunday June 12th 2016


On Saturday I get up late, forgetting that Hairy One’s Burns dog food is being delivered between 12.00 and 1.00. This means that we will not be able to go to the park for another two hours.

Now Isis is perfectly happy to sleep in. No problem. In fact, she quite likes it. But when she is up she is ready for action. And, unfortunately, I wake her up before I remember the delivery.

She has her breakfast and then trots happily up the hall towards the front door. But Human does follow her. Now Isis is used to Human messing about and keeping a dog waiting. Is she drinking a glass of water? Putting in her false tooth? Looking for her key? Her driving glasses? Her phone? Or dog treats?

But no. She’s faffing around, wasting time. She drags washing down from upstairs and stuffs it into the washing machine. She wanders here and there, picking things up and putting them elsewhere. She sits down by the window next to the bright screen and taps.

Human must have forgotten that we’ve not been to the park yet. Isis barks. Nothing happens. She barks again. More loudly this time.

Human continues tapping.

Isis wanders into the back room and chews a few large holes in her big, cardboard box. Human doesn’t notice. Isis shakes her box vigorously. She’s getting cross now.

She jumps onto the futon. She begins to growl. Then she snarls and sticks a back foot in her mouth. “Rurr-rurr-rurr.”

Human intervenes.

“Rurr-rurr-rurr-Ryarp!” Foot back in mouth.

And so we go on.

By the time the door bell rings I am running on a very short fuse and have retired upstairs to preserve my sanity. Shooting downstairs with an armful of shoes, I accidentally kick  the stair guard which flies up into the air, closely followed by the shoes and lands with an almighty crash on the hall floor. I leap nimbly over the now dismantled stair guard and scattered shoes, and skitter down the hall. The delivery man looks apprehensive. Trying hard to appear normal, and smiling widely, I open the door. But I forget that I’ve not put my false tooth in yet, and, unsurprisingly,  the delivery man doesn’t look at all reassured.

At last we are in the porch attempting to get Hairy One’s harness on. She is not feeling co-operative and spins round in the small space growling. She tosses her head and evades the harness like a wild buffalo avoiding the lasso.

As soon as the lead is clipped on, the naughty animal sits down smartly and waits for her treat. But she growls as she steps round the door. She growls as she is fastened into her safety harness in the car. Once in the park, she grumps and growls every time the lead touches her, every time she is expected to change direction, every time, in fact, when she is not allowed to do exactly what she wants.

But her pièce de résistance has yet to come. Just as we near one of her favourite running spaces, we come across a group of teenagers looking for a football. I spot the ball and pick it up. As I hand it to a young lad, Isis, who just cannot stand any more hanging around, explodes into a grand “Grarrarrarr-Ra!” and viciously attacks her tail, tearing out two long strands of white hair.

The poor lad leaps back and scrambles through the bushes to the football pitch.

“Hear that?”, he asks his mates breathlessly, “She just gave me the ball and the dog goes “Grarrarrarr ……. and I just run ….”

Sigh. Isis has done her bit for child-dog relations.

Thanks Isis.


Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk

This entry was posted in Isis is no angel, self-harming and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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