Poppy has been a very happy dog this week. When we told her that we were going to be staying at Japer and Bella’s house, she wagged her tail happily and pranced about the house woofing. Of course, we know that she is easily excited by an enthusiastic tone of voice, and may not have understood exactly what we were saying, but once she saw us packing up her crate, she definitely knew we were off on an adventure.
We filled the back of the car with laptops, dog bedding and a change or two of clothes, toothbrushes, knitting and the contents of the fridge, while Poppy capered about under our feet, yodelling and woofing. A quick check that everything was in order, and we were off. A brief return to pick up Poppy’s lead, and we were off again.
A rather goaty traffic jam!
Jasper and Bella live a short way away in the campo, next to a goat farm. We have stayed here before. Every day, the goats go bongling past the terrace on their way to milking. Poppy loves to stand with her head through the railings, woofing at them. When we open the gate to go somewhere in the car, she scampers off happily, hoping to find a goat, or maybe one of the chickens, or the goat man’s dogs. Fortunately, she is a dog who loves to please, so she comes back when called. She sits on the back seat of the car, grinning from ear to ear and effortlessly making it almost impossible to fasten her harness and clip it into the seat belt point.
It is very difficult to be cross with Poppy when she is being as good as she can. I just need to work out a way to tell her that lying down when I am still trying to fasten the straps under her armpits is not helpful. Then I need to help her to understand that sitting on the seat belt anchor point is not great either. She is likely to think that I am just being picky.
But I digress. Poppy loves staying in other people’s houses. She particularly likes having space outside in which to play and do important dog things that she can’t really do within the restricted space of our roof terrace. Each new situation has its own particular smells, different walks to explore and things to find. Best of all, as far as she is concerned, is when there are dogs for her to play with. The odd cat or two is an added bonus.
Jasper remains aloof while the ladies play tug of war
This week, there are no cats, but the goats and chickens next door are a fair substitute. As for dogs, Jasper and Bella are golden retrievers. They are very sweet natured and extremely happy to have another playmate to cavort about and cause mayhem with them.
At meal times, the three of them mill around, vying for attention and hoping to get their food first. Jasper is the most sedate. He mills in a kind of it’s-not-really-milling-as-such way. If he were human, he would trip over and then pretend it wasn’t him, or that he had meant to do it. I think he fancies himself as an elder statesman, but his dogness sometimes gets the better of him.
Bella is blonde. She is a very affectionate girl, and is not a hundred percent happy that she has to share our attention with Poppy. If she did not have the most squeaky bark around, I would say she is a canine Marilyn Monroe. As it is, she is more a canine Sandra Dickinson. She is beautiful, silky and ever so slightly ditsy. She leaps with all four feet off the ground when she sees the bowls lined up, ready to be filled.
Poppy mills confidently: she knows we are her people, and that she will not be left out. She weaves between Bella and Jasper, crooning tunelessly and woofing instructions. I am glad she is there to make sure I get it right.
As soon as the bowls are put on the floor – I try to do it in a different order each time, as I cannot put three bowls down simultaneously – the three of them start the speed snaffling competition. The bowls skid around the floor but the dogs never even come up for breath. They just keep on scoffing, and if the bowls gets wedged in a corner or against a piece of furniture, all the better. Their sides heave as they inhale the food, and for a short while, they are oblivious to each other.
Once they have checked each of the bowls to make sure nobody has left the tiniest morsel, they are off to find new adventures.
Yesterday, they found a bag of plastic bottles waiting to be taken to the recycling centre. Maybe the odd skittering noises should have piqued our curiosity sooner; by the time we realised something was going on outside, the view from the window was a scene of total carnage. Several bottles had been chewed up, and mangled bits of plastic were scattered all around the terrace. The bottle tops were evidently great playthings, and had been flung far and wide. The empty bag was flopping slackly over the rim of a planter, and the remains of its contents were strewn around, the different coloured plastics creating a cheerfully chaotic effect.
Dog Jenga
Poppy had been sharing her tips and techniques for installation art. Her trademark chewed up sponge was in evidence beneath the sitting room window, and Jasper was attempting to replicate the effect over by the pool.
Fortunately, it did not take long to sweep up their artistic efforts, and they showed no great signs of disappointment at our lack of appreciation. I suspect the artistic journey had been more important to them than the destination. In any case, the remains of the bottles are now back in the bag, and well out of reach.
After a raucous suppertime, evenings have settled into a comfortable routine. Poppy takes herself into her crate behind the sofa, or off to sleep on her mattress at the foot of our bed. Jasper harrumphs around for a while, and then carefully arranges himself on Poppy’s shaggy bathmat in front of the TV, and Bella wriggles herself into position as close as possible to our feet, lying on her side and patting us with her paws from time to time. Peace and harmony reign. Three furry friends have had another lovely day together and are now recharging their batteries, ready for tomorrow’s fun and games.
In his cage on the dresser, Boggle nibbles on his seeds, finally able to relax. In the morning, three wet noses will be whiffling up at him, wanting him to come out and play, but for now, he can stuff his little face, arrange his feathers one last time, tuck his beak under his wing and have a well deserved sleep.