The best thing about small humans — sticky fingers.
Sure, they are likely to poke you in the eye or pull on an ear, but it is a small price to pay.
Little humans think it’s funny. The big humans try to stop them, “Don’t let that dog lick your hand, it’s dirty.”
The cheek! My tongue is very clean and I am performing a service because little humans with sticky fingers get yelled at, “Why is this child allowed to wander around with sticky hands?” A good question and I have the solution — let me lick them.
I’m here to help — they just don’t seem to understand.
They’re pesky wee creatures.
Every day, at about this time, I walk down to the beach. My mistress, the one who writes books, has a house not far from the shore. She likes to come down here when the weather is warm. “No bloody telephone, and no one dropping in unannounced. Absolute heaven.” I don’t much care where we stay as long as I can protect her. She doesn’t need protecting at this hour of the day. She is in her little shed writing mystery stories. She’s reasonably safe in there, so I have a bit of time where I can come down to the shore and take in all the aromas.
The seagulls can be a bit of a nuisance, but it’s this damn crab that really gets up my nose. It should be frightened of me, but no matter what I do it does not seem to care. It bit me on the nose the first time I encountered it. I keep my distance since then. I run at it and bark at it, but it just stands there waving its legs in the air. I get the feeling that it would be quite tasty, but how the hell do you get hold of it.
I’ve wasted enough time worrying about that crab. There are other spots that need checking, and then it will be time to go and check on my mistress. She has her tea in the middle of the morning, and if I am close by and particularly well-behaved, I usually get one of those human biscuits, so I don’t want this annoying crab to make me late for biscuits.
Every day my dogs and I walk past the demonstration outside the Tecoma McDonalds site.
Sometimes it is a bit difficult to get by as the demonstrators tend to clog up the temporary footpath but this is only a minor inconvenience and it is not long before we are on our way again.
This week however things got a bit nasty.
Two days in a row we encountered demonstrators with dogs.
I remembered that I had read a pamphlet put out earlier by the organisers where they advised people not to bring children or dogs to the planned demonstrations.
Very wise, I thought at the time.
Obviously some people didn’t read the memo.
The first day that we encountered problems it was in the form of a medium sized dog attached to a small boy. Double whammy!
The medium size quadruped took a dislike to Honey and tried to bite her. She put up a good defence and no dog was harmed.
I was a little annoyed and suggested to the crowd that dogs and kids at a demo were not a good idea.
My words were met with glassy stares.
No-one came forward to claim the child or the dog.
Day two saw a much larger dog attached to a light weight female.
Said female had no control over her dog and struggled to hold it and her sign at the same time.
Here’s the thing; our dogs will follow us wherever we go.
They do not understand that if trouble breaks out a small child or a skinny female are not ot going to be able to protect them.
Our dogs look to us for leadership, and putting them into a position where they can be injured is unacceptable.
If you want to drag your children along to a demonstration that’s your business, but please leave your loyal dog at home.
If he bites someone it is not you who will pay with their life.