A post should appear every Sunday.

Sunday December 11th 2022

It’s a dull, damp day and I can smell that this is the path which leads to the big woods. Human says I can choose where we go, but she doesn’t mean it. She thinks we’ll walk on a little further and turn into the little lane which takes us up to the first field, or she’ll make me take the path opposite the little lane. If we walk on that one, we’ll go through the big woods as well.

She thinks just because I’m smaller than her, I’m easy to boss around but I’m not. I don’t want to walk along the little lane. It’s boring. And I don’t want to go through her woods. They’re boring. I want to sniff in my little wood.

All the other dogs walk up the little lane. I can smell their pees any day. Lots of dogs come down through the big woods, too. So I’m sure to have someone’s cold nose stuck up my ar  bottom, or someone’s paws pounding past, making the ground shake, and the wind blow my fur on end. Even worse, some rude dog will probably shove its muzzle right into my face and huff and fuff on me. Yuk.

Anyway, Human’s not let me go into my little wood for ages and ages, so I’m blo damn well going today. And I have a strattergy.

I sniff very urgently, then turn round and round with my tail stuck out, as if I’m desperate for a sh poo. I unfold a bit, but not completely, then, pretending to be con-ster-pay-Ted, I shuffle further along the track. When I am well away from the road, I stop for a cra poo. This is sure to annoy Human, snigger, because we’re too far from the dog bin for her to run to it. It wouldn’t be safe. Someone could steal me, so she’ll have to carry the bag all the way through the wood, over the big field, and up the steps before we reach the next bin.

I’m going to enjoy this walk.

I turn into the wood and begin to sniff. There are hundreds of lovely soft leaves under my paws, and the smells coming up from them are amazing. Human is hanging back, leaving me to go first. Tippickul. Someone espeshully brave has to lead the way, and face the dangers. I’m one of those. They call us pie-on-ears. I’m a pie-on-ear.

Then, suddenly, as I am nkeed neekd kneading the lovely leaves, something attacks my front legs. I jump back very quickly. I’m not afraid – I only jump back so fast in case Human might need help. Then something whips at my chin. Oh my dog! It’s snakes. Snakes are very, very danjerus. They can bite a dog. They can even kill a dog.

EEEEEEEEEK! I rush out of the wood, and stand close behind Human – to protect her, of course, because it’s my duty. It’s best to be behind her, then the snakes can’t see me, and if they attack her, I can jump out and surprise them. From behind Human, I give a little woof, just as a warning to the snakes.

She thinks I’m a very brave dog. I know that because she strokes my head and gives me a hug, and says, “Dear, dear, dear.” She knows she’s very for-chew-nut to have such a brave dog to look after her. I don’t want to go back into the wood, but she makes me. She wants me to kill the snakes for her. I can smell that she’s fritened. She keeps patting me, and telling me what a brave dog I am. 

So I step further into the woods. This is better. I’ve passed the snakes. It’s safe now.

But it isn’t: as I walk along, sniffing the smells at the edge of the path, a snake darts out and tries to bite me. Luckerly, I’m too quick for it. This keeps happening, and Human keeps patting me to tell me it’s safe. I know it’s safe. She’s the scared one. She makes me walk in the middle of the path, in front of her. There are no snakes in the middle, so I can stop guarding her, and enjoy xploring. 

Now I can feel vibrashuns in the air. Human is laughing. I expect she’s saying something silly, but I take no notice, just climb over the big tree trunk as usual.

I’m very good at climbing over things. I’ve always been able to do it.

Ah, we’re getting close to the field now. I can smell sweaty human feet. There must be someone running up and down chasing a ball. Humans are very childish. Mind you, some stupid dogs do it too. Blitzi’s always doing it, then he lies down and chews the ball up, and spits all over it. Smells re-vole-ting.

Now we’ve reached the lane, and now we’re on the field. Oh horrer, horrer, there’s a nest of snakes on the grass! I jump backwards. I’m very shocked, but I try to look carm so Human doesn’t get scared again. The snakes don’t come after me. Very, very carefully, I creep up to the nest. I even sniff it. Nothing moves.

That’s OK then, they won’t be attacking Human, but best to be careful, so I back away, and walk around them in a big circle. I find a few more snake nests, so I walk in a big, big circle around every one to show Human there’s nothing to be scared of, and she’ll be perfickly O.K. if she just copies me.

When I catch up with  her, she pats me a lot.

It’s eggs-or-sting having to look after Human everywhere we go. I’m glad when we turn round and take a different way back to the car.

I’ll be glad to be back home.

I expeckt when we get home, she’ll give me a Bacon Sizzler for proteckting her so well.

Bacon Sizzlers are very nice.

I like Bacon Sizzlers.

Isis came from Aeza cat and dog rescue in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@azea.org or go to http://www.dogwatch.co.uk.