Oh, what a life to be a dog. Not just any dog – one of my dogs! My dogs love being inside, they have the run of the house. My family think they are spoilt. They are yappy and noisy and a tad bit naughty, but I love them all the same. They sit on top of my couch, the couch that rests up against the windowsill providing an extra wide ledge from which they can stretch out on in comfort and sink into the soft comfy leather and watch the world go by. The longer they lie there the lower they sink and the more they sink the warmer and cosier they become. On extra cold days I throw a woolly violet coloured rug over then and they think they have died and gone to heaven. This is Angus’ favourite spot. He stands (or should I say lays) lookout and tells me what is going on in the world. It can be quite irritating to be told whenever any passer by should dare even walk past our house, especially to walk their dog. And God forbid it should anyone knock on the door. And heaven help us should anyone think they might like to come in!
Cobie’s favourite spot is to burrow under my bed covers. I am afraid this has been a life long condition with him; a condition that all the persuasion in the world has been unable to correct. You see, when he was a pup, he came from a large family of inside dogs. He has seven same aged siblings somewhere in the world. When we brought our sad looking little dog home, he cried and howled the whole night through. He howled so much that Angus could bear it no more and slunk out the doggy door and barked on the back deck. I did not dare test the limits of my neighbour’s tolerance and I opened the laundry door and held Cobie until he became sleepy. I called Angus back in and settled them both in their beds, and went back to bed myself. But no sooner had the laundry door shut the howling and crying began (the dogs were quite noisy too). I patted my tired and grumpy husband on the back and assured him it would be ok. This time I thought perhaps the little fella was scared of Angus, they weren’t yet accustomed to each other and Angus was rather confused by the introduction of a new pup to the house. So I let Angus in and brought his bedding into our room hoping the little fella whom was not yet house trained would be able to settle and sleep.
But no! He was now alone, and that was apparently even worse. He was now experiencing the cold painful reality that he no longer had the comfort of his Mummy to cuddle into for warmth and reassurance. Nor the familiar playful nudging, pushing and shoving from his brothers and sisters as they each completed for the snuggliest spot. So I took pity on my tiny furry bundle and lay out a towel and placed it on the bed. I lay my pouting, slinky pooch on the towel and lay down beside him. We all enjoyed the remainder of the night in a quiet peaceful sleep.
To this day, Angus and Cobie sleep in my room. They each have a lovely soft basket at the foot of my own bed. They both jump under their blankets each night as instructed, but each morning, without fail, a warm and heavy little body is felt lying spread out on my toes. I never hear him make his move. He is a quiet sneaky scamp, but Cobie thinks this is his bed, but is happy to amuse me by jumping into his own bed at the beginning of night.
While spoilt inside dogs can be demanding at times, they have so much love to give and are as loyal as anyone could hope or ask. There is however, something that I will always be grateful for. When I was home alone one night, they chased away some slippery, fearsome, devilish being who dared to break into the house. Who knows where I would be if they had succeeded, if I had not been blessed with my two spoilt, yappy, bed-hogging, lazy, loving, playful and just a bit too clever, Jack Russell dogs.
On the night of Tuesday the 13th of September Cobie ran away and has not been seen since. It goes without saying that we are worried sick and are desperate to have him back. I included this piece, which I wrote years ago, to keep him in our thoughts, while lost - Thank you.
