My story - from a best friend's perspective, told by Jake my first dog and the cutest, most affectionate mongrel you could ever hope to meet.
I remember the day I found the family. I was out of my kennel having a run in a field when I heard them. I liked the sound of the older one so I bolted, squeezed through a hole in the hedge and straight to them. That was it. I was chosen.
I have to admit, I didn’t like travelling in the car. I was sick and scared. I cried like a tiny puppy. Then we got to the house that was my new home. I was a bit confused when I went in because it didn’t smell like the lady that chose me, but she came in too so it was alright.
Inside I was introduced to another lady, a boy and a small girl, but she didn’t really get to meet me till later.
The boy took hold of me and gave me a cuddle. He seemed quite pleased with me. Apparently I was his eighth birthday present. They talked a lot. The boy wanted to call me “Patch” because of the patches on my back. Lucky for me the lady said no, and persuaded him that Jake would be better. That was the start of my new life.
My new owner soon lost interest in me. He didn’t like taking me for walks or brushing my hair. I became an independent sort of dog, squeezing through the hedge to the fields for a walk by myself whenever I could. In the day I was locked in the kitchen by myself. It would’ve been awful except for the girl. She was the one who remembered to feed me and brush me. She didn’t take me for walks though. Her mum said she was too young at six.
I looked forward to the end of the day when the children would get home. The key was hidden in the shed at the back so I would be waiting and jumping by the door. If the boy got back first he would clip me to a chain by my kennel. I didn’t like being chained up but at least it gave me a loo break. When the girl got home, she would let me back into the house and sit by the fire with me watching TV till their mum got back from work.
Every now and then the boy would be in a bad mood. I don’t know why, and it didn’t affect his indifference to me, but it was bad for the girl. On those days he would wait till she settled in front of the TV. Call me away and shut me in the kitchen. Then he would hurt her. I could hear her screaming for him to stop, but he didn’t. Sometimes I heard him taunting her to plead for mercy, but she didn’t. Then the screaming would be worse.
Afterwards she would come and find me and hold me and tell me how much she hated her brother. If he was still after her she would climb into my kennel, with me in front where he wouldn’t find her. Other times she would move furniture against the door in her bedroom. There she escaped to her imaginary world with a family in her dolls house, where when bad things happened, they were dealt with fairly and the adults cared for the children.
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