Woofling everyone,
today I want to tell you a story about a kind of a holiday… this is what humans call a period of time where they temporarily abandon their regular den to go and find a different one somewhere else and change their routines.
Personally I do not understand how abandoning your safe place, (for whatever short period of time), to find another provisional one, possibly not so safe, can be a positive exercise… but… it is widely accepted amongst k9s, that humans can be more than confusing at times.
Anywoof… I mentioned that this was a “kind” of a holiday, because it wasn’t a holiday 100%.
Are you also confused?
It turned out that my hooman’s mate had to “work” far away from our den and asked my hooman if she wanted to take advantage and have a few sun ups away!
Despite my first reservations about the impending trip, I realized that my hooman felt happy and excited, therefore I became happy and excited about it as well.
Our temporary den was lovely; set in the middle of a forest, all you could hear were the birds and leaves being disturbed by a gentle breeze.
The “holiday” began the very next day. My hooman’s mate left very early on sun up and didn’t come back till sun down, but my hooman and I had the best time… we went for long walks, we played in the little flow… (this is what my hooman calls a lot of drinkies seemingly flowing from one place to another), we had afternoon naps in the sun, we chased frogs, we simply had the best
time!
This carried on for a few days, I was so happy!!! And then… It happened.
I think it was sun up number 4, I woke up, opened my eyes… and I knew, something was terribly wrong.
My hooman woke up a little later, unaware of the… something, she gave me a little lick and told me she was going to make us both breakfast and bring it back to bed.
Upon her returned she offered me the kill, normally I would be jumping happily to get it, but on this day I didn’t feel hungry at all.
“What is wrong my Biscuit?” she said slightly alarmed as she climbed back into bed.
I just slithered closer to her and went back to sleep.
The same happened when she offered me drinkies… I didn’t want drinkies either.
“Oh dear sweety” she wooffled “maybe we did a bit too much in the last few days, let’s rest today… we will try to give you your pappa” (my hooman word for din-din) “and drinkies later”
She laid back and let me rest for quite a while.
“Ok my Biscuit, we won’t go walkies today, I will just take you out for a little wee wees”
Again normally I would be jumping left, right and centre with excitement, but today all I could do was to open my eyes and then close them again, I didn’t even have the strength to lift my head.
“Biscuit… sweety, you really are starting to worry me, what is wrong my poppet?”
She picked me up gently and took me outside and placed me carefully on the grass.
I could hardly stand up, my legs felt so heavy, I sniffed the longest piece of grass right next to me and laid down again.
“Oh my God… no food, no walkies… and now… no wee wees?!
I don’t like this at all, this is serious”
I could sense my hooman’s anxiety rising up like a duck’s bottom in a pond.
After a few minutes, she picked me up again and put me in my bed in the new den’s lounge, she said nothing but I felt her making the biggest effort to try and stay calm.
She ran to the kitchen where she kept the “noisy thing”, the cell, and started poking at it frantically, but after a few tries nothing happened and unable to keep her composure she began to bark at it.
To be honest I was quite surprised, if you recall, when I was little I learnt all about the cell, the small noisy monster humans carry everywhere, and the times when despite their attachment to it, the irritation it causes them, but I never ever heard her bark at it with such ferocity.
My hooman must have thought the little monster was responsible for the way I felt.
Now, I am no fan of that thing, but I couldn’t let it get into trouble for something it didn’t do. So I tried to get up, tried to see if I could explain that the thing was not to blame, I honestly did… but I couldn’t, I let out a little exhausted and frustrated whimper.
Hearing this, my hooman span around and run to me, the noisy creature still in her hand.
“BISCUIT??? OH MY GOD!!! “ and then she directed her frustration to the cell again, “PICK UP! PICK UP! ANSWER GOD DAMMIT!!! ANSWER THIS STUPID PIECE OF USELESS C**P!!!”
“Sorry cell”, it’s all I could think, realizing that my whimper made it worse.
During the next few hours, my hooman barked at the noisy thing several times, but it did not respond… Probably due to the shock of being so fiercely barked at for something it didn’t do.
My hooman grew more frantic by the minute, by now I was in and out of sleep but in my waking moments I could hear her walking back and forth mumbling at the stupid situation she got me in, that it was not acceptable to be left in a place with no one around, no phone signal, (whatever that was), and no vroom vroom.
I was really worried about my hooman, stress like that could make her poorly, I wanted to run to her and make her better, I wanted to give her comfort, but for some reason I couldn’t and I felt really sad and angry about it, and then I was gone again in a deep sleep, a sleep I could not hold back in spite of all my efforts to be here with my hooman in her moment of need.
The next thing I knew was my hooman sitting next to me, she was stroking me.
“My Biscuit”, she said, deep sorrow in her voice, “I am at a loss, all I can do now is to have faith”
Because of my wooflings in the hood, I knew what faith was, my dogs and bitches explained to me what I knew instinctively but couldn't put into bark.
Amongst us dogs, what humans call faith, translates into that positive energy that drives all things in the universe, and it is as real and as accepted as… chasing squirrels. On the other hand, after years of human behaviour observations, I realized that this notion does not come as easy to humans. Not only they need to self identify into a particular group of faith, (like when they name different dogs breeds, I am a chihuahua, my friend Moneypenny is a papillon, Uncle Buck is an English bulldog and so on… to us dogs this differentiation is unnecessary, to us we are simply... dogs), but also believing, really believing... to humans this comes with some challenges.
Don't get me wrong, we dogs sense they really want to, but doubt crawls all over them like a flea outbreak!!!
But let me get back to my tale:
She fiddled with the noisy thing and suddenly it came alive, and from it came the loveliest of sounds I have ever heard in my entire life.
“This”, she whispered, “this is a Buddhist song, it is especially made for poorly pets… this will make you better”
And so we laid together and listened..
TO BE CONTINUED...
Till our next woofling,
Lots of licks,
Biscuit
If you would like some info about my hooman's pastel portraits or visit her shop go to:
... and don't forget to spread the scent and leave a nice licky like!!!
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