Shit My Dog Says

When John Grogan wasn't sure what to write about in his column for the Florida Sun-Sentinel he wrote about his dog Marley and that turned out pretty well for him. So I figured I'd give it a go and share with you the adventures I have dog-sitting my parents' three hounds Grace, Jeanie and Reece for a week.

Day 1: Death & Destruction

Mum warned me that the dogs are accustomed to getting up early as she starts work at 7am. Sure enough, I wake at 5.15am to find Grace staring at me like the girl from Paranormal Activity.  I try to get them to go back to sleep, but fail. At 5.20am I find myself standing in darkness on the lawn pleading with them to pee. I promise them the world if they'll just let me go back to bed.

At some point in this process I fail to notice that one of them has devoured a ball the neighbour's kids have kicked over the fence. I hold the deflated football carcass for a moment, it seems like a kindred spirit. I fling it back over the fence and decide that if asked I will blame it on a rabid fox.


By lunchtime they realise that they're stuck with me for a while and of course this depresses them immediately. So I take them for a walk. Lots of other dog walkers say hello and greet me warmly. I've got just enough energy to grunt in response. Jeanie gets over her depression my rolling in something. Like a scene from CSI, I trudge over to see what the offending item is and decide it's probably a decaying vole.

I decide to bathe Jeanie as a punishment, allowing the other two dogs to watch to increase her embarrassment. Turns out she loves being bathed and wags her tail merrily as I gently sponge off the rodent entrails. It's only Day 1 and the dogs already have the better of me.

Day 2: The Belly of the Whale.

Another 5.15am start. I consider leaving them in a basket outside the local RSPCA centre with a note insisting they be put down. Barely have enough energy to scribble notes for today's diary entry. Whilst I make myself a cup of tea, Jeanie eats my post-it. Forget it.

Day 3: Hurricanine

Decide to embrace the 5.30am start to the day and get lots of writing done. Discover I'm actually very productive before dawn.

After lunch I take the dogs out into the fields opposite our house. We get caught up in high winds, apparently fallout from the hurricane. They're so mystified by the winds they behave beautifully. I even stop to chat to a fellow dog owner with a very nice Dalmatian. I'm starting to get the hang of this.

Day 4: Incisors Incident

An actual disaster has occurred. Grace was attacked today.

Now I should prefix the explanation of what happened by explaining that Gracie has always been my favourite. The folks bought Jeanie and rescued Reece whilst I was living in Bristol. However, I was still at home when we got Gracie. When she was a tiny puppy she got sick and as it was the summer holidays I took charge of nursing her back to health. Ever since she's been my faithful friend, she follows me around and sleeps on my feet under the desk whilst I'm writing.

As a result of my blatant favouritism, I always let Gracie off her lead first when we're out walking. Which is exactly what I did today walking them with Max. She merrily runs off into the field and seconds later we hear a terribly cry. We run over and see a huge Alsatian has her pinned down and is biting her, his owner half a mile away. Luckily Gracie manages to break free and runs behind me, Max manages to put himself between us and The Beast until the owner finally gets to us and puts the length of chain that he uses as a lead around its neck. Grace is shaking as we check her for injuries, but don't see anything.

The owner of The Beast mumbles a "sorry" and wanders off. I see little Gracie shaking and get into what Max refers to as 'Page Rage'. I run after him screaming that he shouldn't have such a dangerous dog off the lead and I even take his photo threatening to report him to the police if I see him again with The Beast running loose. We spend the whole walk debriefing what happened and scrutinising Gracie for injuries. She seems fine, we're the only ones in shock.

We get home and I check her thoroughly and...oh God, there's two puncture marks on her back from The Beast's teeth. I spend an hour googling Dog First Aid and consulting Vets' advice. We bathe the wounds and have to monitor her carefully for the next few days to check for any sign of infection. As I'm writing now she's sat on my feet under the desk, she seems to be ok.

That night Max breaks his own rule and suggests that Gracie sleeps at the end of our bed.

Day 5: Rest & Recovery

After all the drama of yesterday the dogs sleep in until the gloriously late time of 6.30am.

Max is off work today and so as a treat we take them to Bradgate Park. We have a picnic in the hills, watching the newborn fawns in the deer herd hopping about, yesterday's problems seem like a distant memory. Reece makes friends with a peacock, Jeanie rolls in a stagnant ditch and Gracie learns about the history of the ill fortuned Lady Jane Grey's life. Everybody's happy.

Day 6: Rock & Roll


Reece found a really nice rock today in a stream. (He asked me to mention it). He also broke wind so violently whilst watch the X-Factor he scared himself and made Tulisa start crying, a lot.

Day 7: Goodbyes

I woke THEM up today at 5.45am to watch the England match. They were horrified.

Max and I are off to join my folks in Spain tomorrow so today is our last day dog-sitting before my Grandma (and fiancé) take over the duties.

Their little faces drop as they see the suitcases in the hall.

Took them for an extra long walk, merrily chatting to other dog walkers. I'm going to miss this life as a country lady.
 
We'll be sad to leave them, but have learnt much about life this week and not just what the inside of a vole smells like.