If you are old, like Mama, you will remember a song that goes … me aaaaaaand Mrs Jones, Mrs Jones, Mrs Jones, we got a thiiiiing going on. Well, that’s me and my bro, me and Mr O, we got a thing going on.
I love him. He is my rock. Where he goes, I go. When he has a bit of a sit down because he is tired what with just having the three legs, I sit down too. Be it the park, the pavement, or even the pet shop, I’ll be there, right by his side. And when Mr O, the partially-abled Enigma spots a deer and miraculously runs like a Deerhound over the ups and downs of the Sussex Downs, well I go with him. Despite the concerned calls of the parents. Hey ho. It’s my job.
Went a bit wrong though. On a recent trip to the forest (we proper love the forest) one of those deer folk happened to cross the path in front of us. Mr O was gone like a bullet from a rusty gun. We both ran like the wind through the dense undergrowth oblivious to parental control. Fun, oh yeah baby. I spent the first year of my life in a dog’s home, a very good one, but when you get your ‘golden bed ticket’ life is suddenly terrific. So we proper went for it. The thing is, deer’s are sprightly chaps and can run a little bit faster than a three legged dog doing a poor impression of a Deerhound, and me, well I’m not leaving my Mr O, we have a thing going on after all.
We were a bit lost, Mr O was a tad exhausted, I was a bit scared. I could hear the parents frantically calling somewhere faraway, it was a bit of a ‘to me, to you’ moment, but being the good little boy of the duo I returned to the old folk … I knew sausages would be involved after all. But Mr O was still out there, lost. The parents were cool, calm and collected and reassured me that everything was going to be alright. Phhff. I am a dog, I knew what they were feeling and it was none of the above.
We like to play a game called ‘find Papa’ he hides and I have to find him, tis much fun. This time Papa said ‘find Mr O’ and so I led Papa back through the undergrowth and went right back to the exact position where I had left Mr O having a lay down. But he was no longer there. I had my own little panic which induced one of my Tourette’s moments and I did a bit of ticking, yipyap sort of thing. And then I manned up and used my sort of spaniel snout to track my bestie down. It was a bit of a trek but I only went and did it. Mr O had made his way to a path and was heading in the wrong direction deeper into no man’s land, but I found him. I was, according to Mama and Papa, (and between you and me, Mr O too) a hero! To be honest I was a little bit relieved, and just a little bit proud.
Mama said she wondered what the deer chap had said on his own return to his family … ‘you’ll never guess what, a three legged Greek ex-street Anatolian Shepherd dog doing an impression of a Deerhound only tried to hunt me down’ … and my how they laughed. Rude.
The next day Mama said we were only up for a semi-adventure so instead we went to a park, one which we had never visited before which makes Mr O happy. For a people fearing weirdo he loves a new experience. This particular park Mama had not visited for many years, the reason being the last time she went there she came across a wee small child alone on the swings, and well, it didn’t end well. Mama knew the family, she was a bit scared of them, a bit sort of hard core don’t mess with us kind of chaps. There were 4 young boys in this family, Lee, Liam, Leeson and Leroy. Leroy, being the youngest, was once upon a time all alone, about age 3, playing on the swings when he fell off and started to cry. Mama had rushed to his rescue and picked the wee chap up and asked if he was ok to which he replied, at age 3, f*** off. So 20 years later, and with some trepidation, Mama decided she would take us there as a new experience, just because. And all was good in the hood. New place = new smells, new squirrels and to top it off the best invention in the world, rabbit poo. T’was good. Really good. Until the end, when we approached the residential area. And yup, the front door, to the very house that young hard core Leroy resided in all those years ago, opened. Mama popped us on leads and mentioned something about hurrying home for our tea when out came Leroy. Literally. As gay as a gay thing on a gay day, Leroy was looking mighty proud. And good for him. Mama cussed herself as she admitted she had assumed he would by now be residing elsewhere at her majesty’s pleasure, but no, the boy was as kind as a kind thing, with the most remarkable skin and coiffured hair. A jolly decent young man who instead of telling Mama to f*** off said ‘nice dog ma’am’.
Humility, honesty and just being yourself is what makes this barking rock that we all live on keep on rocking. There may be good times, bad times, and some really sad times, but as my brother has taught me, you just have to make the most of it.
I ain’t heavy and he’s my brother.
Editor’s comment: A measly sausage. I would have given you a one foot long Aldi pig in a blanket if you had left the belligerent beggar behind.
CEO’s comment: Mr Moussaka, my deer friend, thank you for saving me. Cat … do one.
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