Monday, July 9, 2012

A Peek at Life through my Eyes

I was born not too long ago; I do not remember when though. My mother had many babies all at once. We were a very big family. My many siblings and I used to fight to be fed, and quickly I acquired the skill to fight for survival.

At two months old, I left home, and moved to another family. A human family. Possibly my siblings did the same, we were all separated. But then again, some of my kin may have stayed home, I don’t know. I was never told. Since then and for some reason, I’ve acquired what humans call OCD or obsessive compulsive disorder.  Nowadays, I lick and chew my paws for hours, or obsessively tongue the cat that shares my home.

I don’t remember much about my second home and family, except for the feeling of being neglected once. Fortunately I didn’t stay in my second human family very long. When still an infant I moved with my third human family. Today, I have a large yard for my pleasure, toys to play with, plenty of love and samplings of human food. I love raw carrots but also yogurt and of course ice cream. Profiteroles without chocolate is also on my list of favorites.

My present master is pretty cool, and I would follow her to the end of the world. She can’t walk fast, but I can spring and hop at a very high speed. I won’t leave my master’s sight and wait patiently outdoors for her return when she leaves, driving in her French automobile. By now I’ve recognized the sound of her car’s engine and can tell when she’s coming home. In those moments, I can’t help myself but run and bark loudly wherever I am. I am so happy.

To my defense, I’m a great hunter. At home mice are a real concern. This winter an entire family of mice was lodging behind the kitchen counter. My four legs are close to the ground. I can reach within small areas with my narrow pointy nose, or run as fast as mice do. I caught a few. I resemble a terrier with long blond-reddish hair sometimes covering parts of my eyes. I have a pointy black nose and brown eyes that understand a human smile. With my long dark eyelashes covering parts of my olive shaped eyes, I can charm most humans. My belly is bare and my soft pink stomach always warm.

I can also run like a gazelle. When I’m mad the hair on my back stand upward while my nose is breathing odd scents throughout the air. My tail curls up and my ears flop as I jump and run. Birds are not welcome on my land, I’ll chase then until a fence stops me. Too bad I can’t climb a tree. Birds are not allowed on my home’s roof either. I’ll become hysterical and bark to frighten the unwanted creatures away. Birds are also prohibited in the green house where tomatoes and lettuces grow. Once, I caught a black bird in the glass house. The bird was lucky to escape my sharp teeth.

Butterflies are in a samilar category as birds. I’ll jump and try to catch the very small flying wings fluttering on my path. But I never catch any. My behavior when I meet a frog is a wee different. The wet creature is slow, and I’m on my guard. I’ll watch without moving for a long while then try to tease the poor soul into running. My success is limited though; the shiny visitor only hops a few inches. I’m not so interested after all.

When nights begin I need to make a few runs around my outdoor kingdom, barking here and there. I need to scare and chase away all the nightly invaders, one last time before retiring. 

But cats are also a big no no. Except for my feline brother, Tim, all other cats are my enemies. One of my human neighbors has five of them. The felines love to tease me, trespassing on my outdoor property in full daylight. I’ll make them run for their lives too.

Well the cat, Tim, is sometimes a challenge. Most of the time, I’ll share my feeding bowl with him. But if my master or her sister is preparing their meals, I’ll become aggressive. Tim is no longer my friend or brother. The heavy red cat is no longer allowed to feed in my bowl. I’m very fortunate that Tim doesn’t seem to take my protective mood too badly. I guess my stomach speaks for my head and for my adverse behavior. But I love my feline brother. We sometimes sleep side my side and our coloring matches. Tim’s soothing purrs often foster my departures into dreamland.

But on the other paw, if Tim the cat is mad at me, I’ll run and take refuge into my master’s arms, yapping for help. I have to watch myself and not be always so playful. Tim’s bad moods are unexpected, yet I can grasp small signs that prevent him to reach forward and scratch my nose or eyes.

When I’m impatient, I’ll bark while my human master and her sister eat supper on the high and unreachable dining table. In those moments, my barks resemble deep words that push my hostesses to share their meals. Well, usually I have to wait until the end of their meals to get leftovers. Oftentimes when my nose connected to my stomach, passing through my head, smells human food, I’ll say “woo, woo, woo,” to remind the female human beings that I’m waiting. My hostesses always respond with similar sounds “woo, woo, woo,” that pushes me to bark more. The two intelligent women have grasped that I am starving.

But I also use the same barking tone when visitors come and ring the bell. Some of these human visitors are not sure if my speech is a threat or what I am trying to express. Fortunately, my adoptive family is always there to say: “She’s just talking, not barking at you.”
Some of the strangers embrace me while others stay away, seeming perplexed.

Oftentimes, well many times this year, the rain has come to visit Belgium. If it is raining outside, I don’t want to go out and have to be pushed outdoor to go to the toilets. I don’t like my fur to get wet. My feet don’t mind but my head does. But if the sky is low with heavy clouds, I’ll tell my master that we need to go for a walk.

“Woo, woo, woo,” I say. “Let’s go out.”
“Woo, woo, woo,” my master replies. “Just a minute.”

To go for a walk, I have to wear a leash. But once we’ve arrived at the nearby park, I can run free.  Right now the park is very green with high grasses, wild red poppies and marguerites growing tall while waving amidst a refreshing Belgian wind. Off leash, I’ll run after a hare I just spotted in the corn field that starts at the end of the park. I’ll run for crows and pheasants too. My four legs are strong and I thrust the air in a swift amount of time.

My master’s not happy if I go too far, and out of her voice’s reach. Nowadays, I’m learning to come back on a whistle, but I still need more practice. There is so much wild life where I live. Well, wild and tame. I’ve gotten used to meeting cows, sheep, goats and horses, mostly throughout wired electrical fences. I’ve received a shock one day while racing after a feline predator. Barking for help, my two hostesses knew I was in pain and afraid. Brigitte came to fetch me.

But the best time of the day is at home, at night, in the sofa. A basket located in a remote place of my home and on the floor, used to be my bedding. Nowadays the human sofa is where I sleep at night. I’ve been quite convincing about my sleeping preferences. In the comfortable couch, I sit between my two hostesses. They both love to massage my tummy and I love it too. I’ll scratch for more massages or attention. Tummy massages are the best. In return I’ll lick the female humans if they wish, or not. I can sometimes be a burden with my licking, but I can’t help it.

On the high couch, I also love to play with the blankets and cushions. Up on stage, I’ll softly growl and roll around. Once on my back, head tilted, I open my mouth and smile at my two favorite human faces. I can stay on my back paws up, for quite some time without feeling queer. My mouth keeps on opening when I’m tickled.

But there is a third female human face I always love to see. My senses make me believe that the humans are connected. Maybe they’re all sisters. I would probably recognize my brothers and sisters if I met them. I wonder if I’d be happy to see my siblings.

In any event my life is pretty good right now. Often I’m called Princess although my real name is Lannah. If I was human, being a Princess would perfectly fit my lifestyle. I sleep long hours, have plenty of attention, play when I want and am fed very well. I just have to ask and I’m being served. I have no complaints to report.  


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