I wish I could illustrate this scene with a photo, but the small office area in the bedroom doesn’t lend itself to photography in any way. I’ll try to describe. To my right is a smallish black mongrel, Lucy. She is trying to hypnotise my dinner into her mouth. To my left is a big golden mongrel, Mischa. He is trying to hypnotise same meal into his mouth. And I am in the middle committing the deadly sin of eating in front of the computer. A sin I forbade my father to commit after I found his keyboard jammed with chocolate and beer and various other foodstuffs to the extent where it was a little like using one of those old-fashioned typewriters where you had to hammer really hard on each key to make anything happen at all. Only that when you did, strange things happened. Akin to reading one of those old Donald Duck comics where swear words are replaced with alternative characters in order to protect the sensitivity of the reader. Because that really works.
Anyway; my all time favourite Dog is back! And I had forgotten how big he is. Last time I got used to him and didn’t think him that big, but next to Lucy he’s a giant. As well as next to me. He arrived Sunday night. And it was really strange because Lucy was there, and she was not at all prepared to accept another dog in HER flat, and Mischa remembered that last time he was alone and he was MY dog and he got really confused as here was this yappy little dog that snarled and snapped at him and what was he supposed to do? When I as much as touched Mischa, Lucy would come flying across the room and wedge herself between us, growling furiously. Mischa said nothing.
Just before midnight I took the two for a walk. Walking two dogs that aren’t used to each other is not easy. But luckily Mischa is well behaved and walking a wolf always gives street cred, especially if it looks as if you’re in charge. And he makes it look as if I’m in charge which is nice of him.
Mischa banished from the bedroom by Lucy.
Back again they seemed to get on better, but at two in the morning I woke from a distant growl. I found little Lucy barring the way to the bedroom, huffing and puffing in front of a Mischa who was dejectedly lying on the floor in the hallway looking forlorn. I picked her up and carried her to her little princess cushion and made her lie down. Then I led Mischa to his rug next to the bed. I admit it — I let the dogs sleep in the bedroom. If they don’t they start pacing at five in the morning, bringing me things they find around the flat and dropping them on my face. At five. In the morning. And that’s not ok. If they sleep in the same room they remain prostate until I am ready to take them out. Works a treat. And they’re not my dogs so I have the right to completely ruin them. Though Lucy has growled intermittently at Mischa when I touch him, even this has now eased off. I guess it helped that he eventually snapped at her; he must have said something she understood.
The last few days have been strange. I’m going like a yo-yo between work, dogs, various medical facilities and work again. I’m having about a zillion tests carried out as pre-op preparation making sure I am fit to be operated on. It’s like a major physical overhaul. Goes well with putting Cleo through the last stages of restoration — we should both be like new at the end of it. If only I would end up looking as good as Cleo.
