Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra bits in between.
Sunday March 31st 2019
I had been having a lovely time in Highbury Park, but this week some nasty things happen.
It starts on Friday.
It’s all Human’s fault. She isn’t looking after me properly. She takes no notice of me at all until I trot past her tree trunk jingling my bell.
I run faster and faster, and I can feel the ground shaking. She’s coming after me.
I expect she’s saying, “What’s the matter? What’s the matter?”
Well, I’m not telling her what happened. She’ll never know. She doesn’t deserve to.
Today she stays where I can smell her all the time. But she still doesn’t help me.
I am playing by the woods when I feel something breathing on me. It’s a dog. I recognise its smell. It’s Blue. He’s not a nasty dog. He always sniffs me very gently, but I wish he’d go away.
Then someone else comes. He sniffs my bottom. I hate that.
I move away.
I trot further away and hide under some branches which are very close to the ground.
They both follow me. I can feel them breathing on me. I squirm further under so they can’t get at me.
The second dog goes away, then Blue goes away as well.
I’m sick of Human. She’s useless.
I feel her stroking me. She needn’t think I’m coming out just because she’s here. I’m not going anywhere. She should have come before.
She kneels down, stretches her hand towards me and strokes me. It probably hurts her knee. Good.
She strokes me for a long time. She’s talking too: I can feel her voice.
She’s trying to get me to do what she wants. Well, she can bog off. I’m not moving.
She puts the lead onto my collar. That’s all right. She won’t dare pull hard because she’ll be frightened of hurting my neck. I’ll make sure I cough tonight anyway. That’ll worry her.
Sure enough, when I don’t move, she takes my lead off my collar and and puts my harness on me instead.
She taps me under my chin. I stay where I am. She crawls back under the branches and hauls me out.
Then she takes me up into the woodland walk.
I try to keep my tail down and be very miserable. It’s very hard to remember though, because I’ve not been here for a long time, and there are some lovely new smells. I’m enjoying myself.
I know the paths. She used to keep rushing after me and herding me back to the path she was on, but she doesn’t do that any more. I know where I’m going, so I just trot in front and, now and then, I let her catch me up so I can sniff her hand to make sure she’s still there.
When we come out of the woods, I can smell the bees’ houses so I know exactly where I am.
I don’t lead her up to the big weed patch I always stop to play in. No way. As I said, I know where I’m going. She doesn’t and keeps trying to persuade me onto the ‘right’ track.
I walk up the hill to the pine trees. I can tell she’s very surprised. I used to play there when I was a very young dog. I’ve grown up now and like more dangerous places.
But not today. I run quickly in among the trees and lie down under my favourite one. It’s safe here.
I smell her walking past the tree. And back. She does this lots of times. She must think I’ve run away. Good. That’ll teach her.
I keep very, very still. It’s ages before she finds me.
After she’s run around for a while, panting, she spots me.
Again I ignore the strokes and pats and the little under the chin taps.
I even ignore the kiss on my nose. It’s no good her being soppy now. I’m not moving. She’ll have to crawl in here to put my harness on, and the branches are very prickly.
She crawls in, clips my harness onto my collar again and then crawls out.
She gives a gentle tug on the lead. I ignore her.
In the end, she hauls me out. I sit down. More pats, strokes and taps.
I dig my claws into the grass. She walks on. She’s serious. I’m forced to walk too.
I win in the end. I make horrible, scary noises on the way home, and then I bite my back leg and make it bleed.
That always upsets her.
*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 firstname.lastname@example.org or www.dogwatchuk.co.uk