Scamp

This is part of a novel I was writing a few years ago. It is about all the animals in my life, but mostly about my dog Scamp. This snippet is about an Old English Sheepdog called Alex. My fear of dogs would never have gone away if it weren’t for him. I never published it, and when I have finished my other projects (might be a while) I will finish it. It is about all the animals I have owned.

This is written for https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2023/09/17/sunday-confessionals-fusion/

Alex, an Old English sheepdog, was the first dog I ever got to know and I found out that I was not quite so scared of dogs after all.  He was calm and quiet in nature, with his long black and white fur splashing around his body.  This was my ideal dog and I grew to love him very much.

He was very much at home around people and loved to be pampered and petted by all. He would even allow me to stroke him and I do not think I ever heard him growl; well not at me anyway.  The only time he would raise his heckles was when Alan and his dad were play fighting and even then, he was only telling them not to fight. 

Len, who reminded me of my own dad, took him out on cold frosty mornings and walked down to get his pension, chatting up the old women as he went by.  All the pensioners adored Alex and he would sit outside the post office, while my father-in-law went inside to get his money, waiting patiently for his master to return, so that he could have the pleasure of playing football in the park.

Alex loved to chase balls, but could not tell the difference between a real one and the kind that melted in the snow.  If a snowball was thrown into the frosty air and then land with a thud into the soft ground  Alex would look around, confused, wondering where the cold, white ball had gone.  It was quite a funny sight, seeing him stare at the cold ground and then to the empty air, probably thinking, “It was here a minute ago.”

“Where’s it gone Alex,” Len would joke, “where is the ball?”

Alex would tip his head to one side and then to the other side and bark, “well I don’t know, you threw it.”

Alex’s long beard like fur had a habit of catching all his food, like bees to honey.  Tiny morsels would stick to his hairy strands, especially when he finished it off with some sweet cool water.  It was something you would want to avoid, if you were sensible enough; especially if you were smartly dressed.

One evening, when my brother-in-law was sitting down in his clean white trousers, just ready to go out on the town, we got a full helping of laughter at his expense.  Alex, fresh from eating from his bowl and lapping up water to wash it down, came bounding into the room. His facial hair dripped with meaty water, dribbling down on to his hairy chin.  It was like slow motion, everyone knowing what was going to happen next, apart from Eddie.  Alex only wanted to say hello, but the swear words that emanated from my brother-in-laws mouth turned the air blue. His once sparkling trousers were now a mass of meaty goodness. Eddie found it funny eventually and even he joined in the laughter but Alex made a hasty retreat all the same.

Loving his food Alex would wolf down anything in his bowl.  His most favourite snack in the world was cheese.  He loved cheese with a great passion; however, cheese did not like him.  The awful smell that came from his behind, when he had eaten this tasty treat, was a little bit like rotting eggs, but worse, much, much worse and even the bravest of people would flee for their lives in terror.  I think we could have used his bottom as an offensive weapon and we would have killed anyone in our path.

On one occasion, when I had only known Alan for a few weeks and did not really know them enough to speak my opinions, I was at a family tea.  My mother-in-law had laid out a spread, in honour of me meeting their relations from London.  I was very nervous and just sat by Alan, only speaking when answering questions about myself.  I did not have to worry though; they were the nicest, down to earth people I have ever met. 

On a low table, Masie had lain out a little buffet of food; sandwiches, sausage rolls, cake and a two-pound slab of cheddar.  I could see Alex watching the table, or rather watching the cheese, but I did not utter a word.  I did not know them well enough to give my advice.  Slowly, quietly, when everyone was talking he ambled towards the table, gently grabbed the delicious, two pound cheese and walked back to me, lying down on the floor to finish of his unexpected treat.  I had never owned a dog, so I did not really know what was acceptable, especially when nobody had said a word about the incident.

“Alan,” I turned to my then boyfriend, giving a nervous smile

“Yea.”

“Is he allowed that bit of cheese?”

Alan looked to me and then to his mischievous dog, “what cheese?”

“The one that was on the table.” I answered nervously, wishing I had said something before.