How a Dog's Stars Changed

Woof!

Amazing. I barked straight into your head then.

You know what that makes you, don't you?

"Barking."

Ha ha ha!

Hey, I may be a scruffy-looking lump, but I can crack out a decent pun. This shin-high pooch has got S-wagger (Capitol S intended and deeeeserved!)

You ought to see me when I want a biscuit.

Man, I got all the moves.

All of 'em.

All. Of. Them.

Now I have the time to sniff the begonias, I can cultivate a whole new level of creativity.

I am a Lhasa Apso; we originate from Tibet where they don't even have a word for creativity. Yet here I am "musing about the place".

Ok. Ok. I know "a - musing" is not the same as being an actual muse, but when you got both going on, where is the harm in blending? These dark brown eyes of mine, they got reach, you dig?

Me too.

Ha ha ha ha!

Too much?

Ahem.

I shall get back to my musings, a bit of storytelling from me today.

You just sit comfortably. Maybe treat yourself to a biscuit? Go on, you deserve it. You have been a really good person. Oh yes you have!

Ready?

Great,

Let me tell you the story of how my stars changed.

It's a simple tale born from kind hearts and a small conversation, but it starts on the most wicked of winter's nights with me as I always was... a pent-up pup out of luck, desperate to get out of a cold kitchen and into the living room of my first owner's house.

Now, while my life at that time was the stereotypical dog's life, my first owner was a good woman. Sure, she owned far too many cats for my liking, but hey, you can't hold that against her... we all got our thing... I have mine... you will have yours...

Mmmmmmmm...

Sorry, I drifted.

Let me start again.

On that dark, stormy night, I remember the wind howling like a pack of wild wolves across the moors, baying at me as though trying to goad me into joining in. Sure, I howled a lot back then; I was usually desperate to get outside for a walk. Sadly, my good lady was disabled and could not get out much. Ironically, I had been bought to try and get her out more, but the only place we ever went together was for drives up the flipping walls.

That night though, no dog... not even this dog... would have wanted to go out in that weather. Instead, I sat uncharacteristically silent in my tiny kitchen, waiting for the wail of the wind to pass by.

Then...

As the rain lashed down, and the wind whipped at the boards of our prefab house, as thunder crashed around us, and forks of lightning raged through the heavens, there was a solemn and certain knock at the door.

Knock.

Knock.

Slowly, my first owner went over to see who had arrived and there, silhouetted against the blackest of treacherous nights, stood two soldiers of fortune...

Woah... woah... woah...

Who is narrating this, Caroline? You or me? I mean, come on. I am eternally grateful that you turned up that night, but "soldiers of fortune," you and hubby Peter? I mean, there is artistic license, and then there is just plain fabrication. Let me tell it, as we agreed, in my own voice.

Thank you.

Carrying on.

Two wombats in woollen hats.

Two washed up wet rats.

Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum.

Ok, ok... sorry. The lovely Peter and Caroline arrived at the door and came in for the standard human meet and greet, the soother of all British social situations, the great golden brown... the obligatory cup of tea.

No idea what is wrong with a good sniff of the derriere; cuts a whole load of pomp and ceremony out of proceedings if you ask me, no kettles, no burn risk, sniff... sniff... sniff... good to go.

Anyway, I am a dog, what would I know?

That said - I do know this - despite the lack of reciprocal sniffing, they were all smiles. Cuddled all the damned cats, even the ferocious and practically feral Buttercup, and that old feline had claws in her that could scratch a pup's eye out.

They chattered on about the weather, some banal TV show, and what food and injections I needed.

It was a weird conversation. I circled a lot. I barked a lot. Something was afoot; I just knew it.

It wasn't long before I found out what, and I whimpered in disbelief as a lead was clipped to my collar. Of all the nights to start taking me out for a walk, why tonight? I was a prisoner in my own home, and even I didn't want to put a paw outside into that typhoon. You guys were ok with your big coats on and wellies, but me... well... my fur had never even been rain tested.

I barked... a lot.

Next thing I knew, all my gear got taken from my little kitchen and out of the front door.

I didn't have much. It did not take long. Seconds to be fair. Then, in a flick of a whippet's tail, I followed it.

I am not going to lie, and I am not exaggerating one iota when I say - it was Biblical out there. The amount of water cascading from the jet-black heavens was insane. At one point, I did wonder if I was about to be loaded into an arc, but no, just Peter's little green car.

There were some hurried goodbyes, and that was it... we were out in the obscene elements aquaplaning down little lanes weaving our way across the Yorkshire moors into Lancashire.

Life, as I knew it, was changing forever.

I confess I wee'd a bit on that journey. Caroline was very understanding about that, especially given I was sitting on her knee. To be fair, it could have gotten a whole lot messier, I was incredibly proud of the nerve I showed that night.

Ok, sure, as soon as we got to Caroline and Peter's house I ran in and hid underneath the kitchen table shaking, but so would you if, at age one and a bit, all you had ever known was the inside of two rooms and now you were adventuring across the shires with complete strangers.

It was full-on weird.

But, that wasn't the end of it.

Turns out, Caroline and Peter's place was only the halfway house. Due to the crazy amounts of travel the pair did, they couldn't own a dog - I was intended for different pastures in a different Shire. Cheshire, to be exact. The widely toted habitat of inane grinning cats, or so I had heard.

I did not fancy that much. Come back Buttercup, all was forgiven!

Besides, I liked it at Caroline and Peter's. I wanted to stay there. It was warm, I got lots of treats, and their kitchen was huge!

I was extremely worried I was about to go to a whole new purgatory. They had to carry me out, still shaking. Despite all their reassurance, I could not calm myself, and about forty-five minutes into an hour and twenty drive, I threw up. Yes, you guessed it - all over Caroline.

There was just too much to process.

The landscape changed from moorland and industry to rolling pastures and farms. We were on fast roads one minute, surrounded by hundreds of speeding cars and the next, we were twisting and turning along narrow lanes through human-high hedgerows. I was simultaneously mesmerised and scared to death.

It's funny, looking back I can chuckle a bit at this now.

There had been absolutely nothing to worry about at all.

Turns out, I covered myself and Caroline in sick for no reason whatsoever.

Had I realised where I was headed, instead of vomiting everywhere I would have farted out rainbows and sunbeams the whole way. How I wish I had known that at the end of that topsy-turvy, twist-turny journey through the Northwest Shires, this Tibetan pup would arrive at his personal Nirvana. Final destination - home sweet home of John and Hilary, aka Caroline's parents, who wanted a dog more than anything in the world.

I swear, never have two people been so happy to see me.

As the three of us scrambled out of Peter's car, reeking of my regurgitated breakfast, John and Hilary fussed me without a thought. Within moments I was wiped down and freely trotting inquisitively around my new home.

Life had gone from "Gizmo get back in the kitchen!" to "Would Gussy Wussy like a cookie?"

With half an acre of garden, as many walks as I wanted a day, and a fire to curl up in front of, life had pivoted into something extra-ordinary.

I was and still am one contented pup.

And... it hasn't always been easy. Ten years we have been together and so much has happened in that time - John fell seriously ill, as did Caroline, Hilary's parents died, I have had three operations... look at the state of me here..

Yet, through all of it, we have looked after each other, been there for each other. Cuddles, love, and laughter come what may.

Life, for me changed so quickly, and all of that change started with Caroline having a simple conversation with my old owner's neighbour down at the hair salon.

That one little conversation, that lasted literally 5 minutes, changed my life forever.

That is amazing.

Life is incredible.

Sure, there are moments when they find it hilarious to dress me like this...

...and they may have made me go to dog walking lessons, safe to say - I was not a natural!

It is all good though. They laugh at themselves just as much as they laugh at me...

And as for walks - we hardly ever bother with the lead. There is so much open space, we don't need to...

I am their "Fluffy Gussy" and I love them as much as they love me. We are one big happy family, that gets through whatever life throws at us, together.

This, right here, this is a dog's life.

I love my new stars.