It’s come to my notice that my human, who
writes another blog, wrote something about me chewing up things and digging
holes in the garden when I was a puppy. Now I’m three and have grown up a
bit, I think it’s time I put a bit of perspective on this story. I do
have my reputation to consider after all, so here’s my version of things
that were written about me when I was 21 months old:
I started living with my humans when I
was 4 months old. I’d kind of got over the real baby stage of peeing
whenever and wherever I needed to but was still in need of some guidance
on getting into the garden for these tasks. I was shooed outside and
told to “be busy”. No idea what that meant at all, but they always did
this after I’d had a toilet trip indoors. It was a hot summer so the
doors were open and the penny soon dropped. I was meant to do it
outside.
I must confess that I loved my new home
and my humans, maybe even more so now as we've all been together a lot during lockdown. We always get on very well, they're always kind to me and I heard them describe me as “a delightful and interactive dog”
Yeah!
I
know I’m good with children. I’m always very friendly to them as
they’re somehow a bit like puppies and closer to my size. I adore the
human’s grandchildren and allow them to play with me, cuddle me, carry
me about and at Christmas they put funny sparkly things on my head. I
didn’t like it much but put up with it as it made them happy.
I often make noises and speak in “dog”,
which the humans don’t understand, but they like it because it’s as
though I’m saying “hello” and “chatting”. I sometimes make little howls
of excitement too. But when I was a puppy, with new teeth, I had to
chew things, I just had to – all puppies do so it was perfectly normal
as far as I’m concerned. Here’s what I chewed:
One hairdryer – left
unplugged on the bedroom floor and munched to death, wires hanging out
of it. They really shouldn’t have left it there; I couldn’t resist it.
It was replaced by a new one, is now stored in a cupboard, and that put
an end to that game.
Three duvet covers which
I pulled off beds as I looked for Kitty, their daughter’s cat who’d
been staying. Well I had to pull them off the beds somehow and my teeth
were the only way to do this. The humans were not pleased as there were
gnawed, ripped bits of fabric.
Three sheets – I confess
to doing the same thing with these. Well, I was still searching for
that darned cat. They were gnawed and ripped too. Humans were cross
about this as well.
The garden fence – first try.
That fence was really old and rickety and was good enough to stop My Great Escape
happening when I was a small puppy….but one day….aha! I went missing. I
chewed a hole through the bamboo screening attached to their low trellis
fence, then squeezed through. Yippee! I had the freedom of the garden
backing on to mine and I went searching for Holly, the cat who lives
there. But it didn’t last long as the neighbour who lives there took me
back home.
There was a conversation about sharing
the cost of a new fence, which didn’t sound quite so good. I had to get
back into that garden and find that cat.
Some men turned up, looked at the garden
and the fence, then went away. In the meantime the humans blocked off
that nice hole I’d chewed and
any other likely escape routes. Not only that, they supervised all my
visits to the garden. That wasn’t much fun. I was being watched.
The garden fence – second try.
The men came back and put up a HUGE new high fence. I sat looking
intently at that fence, thinking about it, eyeing it up, sizing it up,
and I eventually worked out how to get through it and into the other
garden.
I dug a hole and went under it. I was
very proud of myself and I went racing around that garden to find Holly
the cat. It was very frustrating though as she was sitting inside
watching me through the closed patio doors. My humans tried to get me
to come back through the hole I'd dug but I wouldn’t come. One of
them tried to get into the garden. But the side gate to it was locked
and the neighbour was out. I was getting just a bit anxious by now
because I couldn’t get at the cat and I couldn’t face squeezing though
the hole I’d dug to get back into my own garden.
My humans lifted one of the bottom panels
of the fence and wedged it open. One of them crawled through and got
me. When I next went to inspect the hole I’d dug, it had been filled in
with some hard stuff. I think it’s called concrete. I couldn’t dig it
anyway.
Garden fence - third try –
after that I started to stare very hard at other areas of the fence, and
I kept disappearing behind the arbour seat thingy in the corner of my
garden. I found a way through the corner gap where two panels of the
fence meet. Yippee! Freedom! Back in that garden again to find that cat! The
humans lifted the bottom fence panel again, one crawled through and got
me. Then they blocked up that gap as well. Spoilsports.
Garden fence - fourth try –
they didn’t block it enough. Yippee! I escaped again. Still no sign of
the cat, but I have a feeling she was at an upstairs window watching
me. The humans did the fence thing and the crawl through thing again and
then a barricade appeared in the gap. Not good.
Garden side gate – I
discovered this other place around the side of the house and sat
looking at the side gate (locked) with my nose down on the small gap
beneath it. I started to dig. I dug up plants and soil by the gate and
the fence next to it. Very quickly bricks and concrete slabs appeared
where I’d been digging, but I still sit and look at the gate and fence,
ever hopeful, even though I can’t dig there any more.
Garden bench – it wasn’t
long before they noticed I’d started digging a hole underneath the seat
of the stone bench on the lawn. I heared one of them say “Oh what the
hell – he’s a terrier – let him have a bit of fun! And to be honest, we
did need a new fence anyway…..”
You can read her version of this story here.
