The Perfect Human?
Name: “Pepper Warnes”
Yes, but what kind of dog are you? “What’s a dog?”
Chief Occupation: “Greeter in chief; pre-washer of dishes”
First, introductions. My name is Pepper, and I am an Etonian.
Like the other teenage boys at this school, my life revolves around sleeping, eating and chasing things, in perpetual rotation.My own sleeping quarters comprise a very splendid red spotty bed which is positioned in the hall, where I may observe all comings and goings with the merest twitch of an eyelid. In fact, so handsome am I in my bed, we were once immortalised in cake — which, for some absurd reason, I was not then permitted to devour..
My GCSE studies include lunch bell recognition; potential walker identification; coming to the whistle; flushing shifty looking boys out of smoky hedgerows, and discovering clever places to drop my load if it’s really too cold to be going outdoors. I’m also a closet thesp. I’m really good at the forlorn “I’ve not been fed OR walked today and I DO wish someone would notice” look — no matter how much eating or walking I’ve had that day.
My housemaster/ owner is Tex Warnes, better known to me as the bloke who takes me running. My family is alright, on the whole. They feed me daily, tickle me always, let me on the sofa (most of the time) and take me on outings. The children always give me the milk in the bottom of their breakfast bowls, and — on a good day — their sausage-ends too.
Occasionally they annoy me, but then the perfect human is hard to find. Not long ago they dragged this huge tree into the house and bellowed at me whenever I wagged my tail anywhere near it. I ask you, a tree! Indoors! It’s not as if I’d been cocking my leg on it! In fact, leg-cocking is not my style at all; I’ve never once felt the need to do anything so awkward when I spend a penny.
The things I most dislike in life are haircuts and suitcases. The former are such a betrayal. They open the back of the car, dangle my WoofMasta hi-viz lead so persuasively, and I leap in, in happy anticipation of some woodland wanderings or a gallop in Windsor Great Park. Then the boot opens to reveal.. PAVEMENTS! The lead goes on, and I am dragged into a shop to be shampooed, brushed, trimmed and otherwise insulted for the best part of two hours. It’s a monstrous way to treat an old friend.
As for suitcases… what hateful things they are, denoting disrupted routines, unfamiliar waterbowls and sometimes insane new rules forbidding sofa usage. I loathe being taken away from home, and our 52 teenagers and their leftover eggy bits. I’m suspicious the moment the washing machine goes into overdrive.
Sometimes, I am not abandoned, but required to share the car boot with said suitcases; or rather, in whatever sliver of boot space remains once the ridiculous things have been thrown in. I simply don’t stand for it. I lie down, and refuse to budge. To be more precise, my preferred tactic is to sneak into said boot at the first inkling of trouble, and claim suitable quarterage before I am expected to cram myself into third class billet barely adequate for a Yorkshire terrier.
It’s usually worth the row by the time we emerge. “Devon is heaven Pepper! You’ll have such fun,” they cry as they let me out at the other end. And I must say, I’m awfully fond of river dipping, and think nothing of plunging my head right under water to retrieve non-floating sticks.
Life on the whole is pretty good… and perhaps I should conclude with a list of life’s finer things: the suggestive rustle of a plop-bag; the rattle of biscuit in my bowl; the clack clack clack of a pheasant lumbering into the air; and the sight of an ill-guarded chicken carcass..
WOULD YOUR DOG LIKE TO BLOG? We’re looking for opinionated canines with a fresh take on life to submit blogs for Woofmasta.
Just send an opening paragraph to firstname.lastname@example.org to be considered. Chosen blogs will receive £50 of Woofmasta kit of your choice.
Blogs that set our tails wagging particularly fast will also receive a pair of Caldene Westfield wellingtons (RRP £70).