Candays
by Roger McKillop
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: None.
Description: The Pomsky Princess strikes again.
Swearwords: None.
Description: The Pomsky Princess strikes again.
Well, here I am, poor little lost puppy, sitting forlornly abandoned by those who SHOULD be looking after me! Yes, Grumps and Mum have deserted me to my fate, lost in the woods while they buggered off on their bikes! It’s ok for them, whizzing about on their wheels, ok, Grumps looks as if he’s breathing through his bum on the uphill bits but it’s me who has to do the 4 paw drive over the stoney tracks! It’s me who has to sprint after them as they speed downhill, they freewheel, while I have to climb up and over every dammed hump!..... (What? Ok, I admit I get a good rest waiting for you to struggle up the hills. Yes, I do find time for a pee, sniff, and as you put it, a dub dance. Those are a girl’s rights and CERTAINLY do not excuse blatant abandonment! Ah, it’s goin’ tae be yin o’ those sessions is it? That’s right “smuff” away, snotty-nosed wee diva…………….Finished? May I return to my, lonely, narration?)…. I’d nearly worn out my paws and they left me, I mean can you believe it? And how did this abuse take place, I hear you ask, ok, even if you didn’t bloody ask, I’ll still tell you!
It was Sunday, which started with my usual assault on Mum’s head with my bum….. (Thon must be a fine sight in the mornin’, a hairy butt shairin’ yer pillow. I’ll thank you Grumps, my dear, do leave my butt out of this, if you don’t mind! Aye, I’m sure yer Maw would also be pleased if ye left it oot o’ her face!)….I usually give her a thump with my paw when I know she’s awake because, “It’s Tickle Time!” This used to happen earlier, before sneaky Mum learned to sleep with the blinds half up, so I could do a nosey out of the bedroom window at the happenings out in the road. I lie, somewhat immodestly, on my back, legs apart, belly exposed for the statutory, elongated tickle session. Any, stop or abbreviated “Mastermind” session, that is “you’ve started, so I’LL tell you when you’ve FINISHED!” is summerly indicated by me gripping the immobile arm and redirecting it back to its allotted tickling task!...... (I’m surprised that ye dinnae hae bald spot oan yer belly, wi’ aw’ they tickles sessions! Mmmmmm! You must have been a tickle magnet yourself then, oh Grumps of the Polished top. You must have to wear your cowboy hats to prevent everyone else from being blinded by the glare! Has anybudy ever ca’d ye a wee….Yes, many times, including you. Uh-hym, back to the typing Grumps, if you please. Mumble mumble swear mumble continued swearing………….)…… After a comfort break in the garden, it’s up onto my perch in the front bedroom to look for Grumps. I’d spent 2 weeks with my bum glued to it, earlier because he’d abandoned me, again, to go on holiday! It’s true, you just don’t get the Grumpses these days, like you used to! Smuff!!! Anyway, when I see his car, it’s ears erect, wait till he shows me he has his “entry fees”…. (usually 3 tasty treats, Mum had to tell him off for giving me too many. Was I consulted? Nope! U.D.I. was pronounced, Unilateral Declaration of In-digestion! That’s cause ye failed yer Fat Pie Club weight-in, Tubby! Its because muscle is heavier than fat, I’m athletically built, besides you “cannae talk” Lard tub!)…. When I see him nearly at the door, I jump down and go to the top of the stairs, so I can descend like a tail-wagging, fluffy avalanche and demand my dues. Then it’s run into the front room, jump up onto the settee, sit/lie back in the corner and enjoy a second tickle time. This position makes it difficult to give him kisses……..(did I say that? Yip an’ I’ve typed it! Mmmmmm….. bugger, oh well, I can’t help loving the old git. Don’t you dare type that! Done! Smuff smuff smuff!)…...Now I have to get the correct balance between the 2 conflicting desires here; tickles or walkies! When I’ve had enough of the former, with my usual tact and subtlety, I jump down, head for the door, tongue lolling and give him the old blue eye stare. Mum gets her bike onto Grump’s rack and off we went to Cathrin Braes for fun speed, excitement and ABANDONMENT! SMUFF!!!! After the faithful, put-upon, doggie ran after her guardians, escorted old Puffing Billy up the Clyde Climb, they went and left me marooned, unprotected and defenceless!.... (And I’ll bite any bugger’s hand off if they say otherwise!)….Ok, maybe I’d wandered off slightly trying to catch the odd squirrel or frighten a magpie or two but that’s no excuse for their deepest treachery!
Now this wouldn’t happen on a Monday or Tuesday, when Grumps comes down to pick me up shortly after Mum’s gone to work. I get taken up to see my Andy Neph. …..(When I was a pup, she was always watching tennis so Auntie Stephanie morphed into Andy, after her favourite player and Neph cause Stephanie is to long a word for a wee doggie to say. Ye mean it’s quicker tae say “ ‘Allo Andy Neph, where’s my toast?” Mmmmm, good point, that’s the very one!)…. Grumps takes me a lead walk and lets me sniff all I like and of course perform the essential 2ps+p….. (2 piddles and a poo.)…. I get to lie under my tree in my….(Hmmm, my! MY!)….garden. I survey the road and remind everyone that they are supposed to give me prior notice, in triplicate, of their intention to pass MY garden. Inevitably my attention turns to the neighbours, Auntie Maureen and Uncle Gordon. Both of whom are open to me glomming a treat. If they don’t see me in the garden, I’ll move my position to look directly at their window, no result, so sit at the small wall right under their window, nope, so raise the old stakes and front paws on the wall and stare directly into their lounge. If this subtle approach fails to get the desired result of my chops munching, it’s the bark-bark routine just to say. “Good morning, my friends, look your favourite moocher is here and her jaws are currently unemployed!” I also like to play the game of “back garden amnesia,” that is, the Auntie Maureen and Uncle Gordon of this garden are not the same as in the front and these ones, certainly, have not given me any treats as yet. Hope and a brass neck can get you most things. Sometimes we go out in the car to Cathrin Braes, for a walk, sometimes a lead walk, sometimes it’s just great to sleep in the shade under my tree. Mum bought me a cooling vest which I hate being put on but love once it’s on. ….......(Well? What was that, Soto voice, o Grumps of mine? Weel A wis jist reflectin’, that bein’ an Irish Lady wi’ the intelligence o’ a Pomeranian an’ the stubbornness o’ a Husky, it’s nae wonder that yer an awkward wee Madame! Jist sayin’, ye ken. Yes, I heard you “jist sayin’’ and I am ignoring it and will treat it with as it deserves.[ Smuff, with contemptuous nose in the air……………just wait till I have a belly full of chicken and smell the inside of your car…..jist sayin!])….Now something I do have to praise is Grumps’ car, it has a long back seat with a Candy Cooler blower in the middle so I can lie down and get a great breeze up my nose and there’s a Pomsky shelf to jump upon, when we stop somewhere, to get a good gander at the surroundings. I’ve got to say that I’m not always pleased to see Mum when she comes to pick me up after work to take me home. She doesn’t always get the whole body wagging, tongue slobbering welcome Grumps gets, or the “please feed me” adoration reserved for Andy Neph in her kitchen. If she ever set up her own religion, where the chief ceremony of worship is the ritual of “saying bye bye to Andy Neph,” where I sit, paw raised and she gives me special treats, I’d be number one disciple! It’s just a doggie thing, Mum is the pack leader, so she gets ignored out of respect/huff/peek/cussedness, sometimes all four. Grumps gets the kisses, cause I own him!
(Ah, you allowed me to digress, guilty conscience eh? Naw, o great Pomsky, just following yer commands and lettin’ ye rattle yer gums. Smuff.)…. Ok, back to the incriminating evidence, when I reached Mum,….(who was by then nearly turned to stone waiting on you, old creaky knees)…. there was a world shortage of Grumps! Mum started down the track with a perfunctory “Candy come!” She was well rested, did I get a breather or a sliver of roast beef ….(well a doggie can hope)….or even a single treat? Nope! Just a “Candy come!” Being a faithful and obedient doggie…. (Cough! Aye, right! Something to say, dearest Grumps? Aye, tae ye, a command is jist the openin’ o’ a negotiation! Yer recall varies wi’ whit’s in the auld treat pouch. It’s amazing how good it is when there’s chicken, tae “ Sorry A cannae hear ye!” When it’s jist plain Kibble!” Simple coincidence, probably due to atmospheric fluctuations. Mmmmm, as A’ve said afore, Aye right!)….I followed mum at the gallop/job/trot/fast waddle/slouch..(delete as believable), when I realised there was no Grumps! He was my responsibility, old, frail and flabby….(Cheeky wee bugger, aw’ richt A’ll admit tae twa oot o’ the three.)….I had to go off to find and protect him. Little did I know that he’d left his canine chum to scoot down the track without a single consideration for me!
(Delay to allow the full horror of the charge to sink in!)
As Mum whizzed round her 3rd berm, I veered off to chase a…..( Yes, ye were sayin’? Eh? Mmm?)…. chase around, up hill to find my Grumps! (Phew!) In the meantime my Mum shot off leaving her poor wee doggie alone. I frantically searched for Grumps, was he back here? Was he over there? Was he up this tree with 2 squirrels, 3 magpies and a woodpecker? Or over there with those doggie walkers? When I got back, it was to find a Mum and Grumps free zone, I was completely abandoned by my nearest and dearest.
My Granny would never have treated her wee lassie like this!
On Wednesday days, I stay with Grumps and we usually go out somewhere, to other parks or the beach, then he takes me over to stay with my Granny. She usually comes down to the car as Grumps is getting me and my travelling bag ready….(Aye, it wis an auld poly bag till last week, when yer Granny objected, tellin’ me, tae tell yer Maw, tae find yer nice broon bag. Mmmm, I know what you mean, when Granny tells you, you stay “telt!”) Granny lives up one flight of stairs in a Close but when she takes me from Grumps, I always pull her towards the door to the back garden. It’s “Candy come.” Sniff, waddle, waddle but above all, ignore. Then “Candy c’mon, hurry.” Continued sniff with an extra portion of ignore. Oops, she’s marching over to me “Candy ya wee bugger, get up they stairs right noo!” …..(A good gambler always knows when to fold their hand, so)…. It’s ears flat, tail tucked in, back arched and head down as I head for the stairs. Now I’m not saying that my Granny does not have a heart of gold but whatever metal her tongue is made of it’s a hell of a lot sharper!
Life at Granny’s is a lot different. John, for reasons of his own, gets up at 3.00am, suits me cause I get my toast and doggie peanut butter, yumph! I get taken out on lead walks and sometimes we go to the grounds of the College Grumps went to and let off to have a run around. At 11.00 my pal Uncle Gordon, Mum’s brother, gives me a treat, usually a dental stick. A few times, if he comes in late I get the stick from Granny, which of course doesn’t stop me from trying to mooch another from Gordon. We get to the bit where my gob is open, silvery glands are at full function, when, pre-yumph, Granny sticks her head round her bedroom door and says, unnecessarily, things like “Gordon, the wee bugger’s had wan already!” Bob shuts, silvery glands are close down and with a significant Smuff, thwarted, I head back to bed. My best doggie friend, Beccy, lives upstairs in the same close. We play together in the back garden, play, bicker, fall out, make up, play and so on. Lately a new pup, Rollo, has come to join us and I’ve been teaching him his place in our pack…..a long way below me!
Not so long ago, a certain Grumps of my acquaintance, managed to feed me with too much chicken. Now I must admit that I hold varying views on that last statement, according to my front end, it is complete nonsense “too much chicken” cannot exist! I’m afraid that my tummy and rear end disagree, so that’s a stalemate, the pretty end equals the other 2 but, unfortunately, Granny’s got the casting vote. This was because, during our rough and tumble session, round the back, I sort of …..leaked…leaked a lot, mmm very loosely. Then we all, sort of, continued to play in the area of the leakage….what we covered ourselves in, was, certainly, not glory…. no need to draw pictures? Granny told Mum to tell Grumps not to do it again…….weeeell that was the jist of her message because he seemed to have been dropped right into the leakage as well. When I got up to the flat, I decided that it was easier if I made the decision to have a shower. This caused me to disappear from sight while Granny hunted for me, only to find me sitting in the shower, in the dark with an “Ok let’s do this.” expression on my face. The moral, Grumps, of the story being, “get into the shower to get out of the sh……”
I really like Wednesday and Thursday nights, they being BETRAYAL free, Gordon brings in carry outs and I mooch as much as possible to turn “carry outs” into “Candy ins!” Granny’s nearly pulled off her feet up the stairs when my nose catches the smell of Gordon’s fish supper! It’s upstairs quickly, tongue licking chops, before he has a chance to finish it. I can usually glom a few chips and some fish. On Thursdays he brings in a curry, I’m not allowed any of that but I like some of his boiled rice if it’s served in the foil container. Every so often, though, Gordon has a cuisine aberration by bringing in a Pizza. Now, as has been told in previous stories, I have no problem with pizza in general but Gordon only likes Hawaiian! I mean, I ask you, a pizza with pineapple..eeeech….I just give him the, “poor disappointed puppy” look, sigh, smuff and head back to my bed. There’s nothing like a guilt trip to underline a doggie’s displeasure and ruin his appetite! In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, “Ain’t I a stinker?”….(Aye, especially when ye perfume yer sel’ wi’ yer favourite Eau de Merde Renard! Grumps, remember I’m just a wee Irish doggie, ok, maybe a gobby wee doggie, so, to use your parlance, “Eh! Whit?” Ye like tae roll in Fox sh… cr……kie …poo! Oh, ok, that’s me!)
Another nourishing delight is a habit both Granny and Grumps share, that’s gravity delivered morsels. If it’s not deliberate then they have a very fortunate condition where their hands don’t know where their mouths are. “Every cloud has a silver lining?” Well this one has a very happy blonde canine one instead! Another habit they share and according to Mum, I do too, is noisy eating. She says if she recorded Grumps and Granny each eating an apple and blended it with me enjoying a chew, she could sell it to the United Nations as a peace tool. Just threaten to play it until everyone stops fighting!….(Sounds good to me, what do you think? Bet we’d get bugger-all in the way o’ Royalties!)
Mum comes to pick me up on Fridays, .…(that is before she took to disowning me in treacherous forests)…. after work. I’m up at Granny’s window, from after my afternoon walk until Mum shows up. Every car is inspected but if it proves to contain a world shortage of Mum, receives a disgusted smuff. When she does appear, I have to consider my welcoming strategy, it can be anything from a whole body wag with the extra portion of slobbering tongue, to the “Oh? Remembered me, have you?” cold shoulder treatment, depending on how much of a Madame I feel….(Ok, I said it, so zip it you! Me, my lips are sealed, shtoom, utter silence! Far be it from me tae say yer a right Diva, when yer in the huff! My remarks will be totally Diva-free zones. No mention will A make o’ ye turnin’ yer head away frae the subject o’ yin o’ yer huffs, especially as A hae been, the said, subject, yince or twice! While A’m at it, ye use the same tactics whenever yer Maw get oot her phone tae tak’ a picture, yer aw’ nice pose till she‘s ready then ye go aw’ camera shy! Enough Grumps, I am the author of these chronicles! Eh, Co-author! Mmmmmm? Now how can I break this to you? You know that doggies do not have good colour vision? Ok, keeping that in mind, I always imagine you as being yellow, wearing glasses and blue dungarees! Ya Wee……………….)
There will be a short break in transmission while we sort out our industrial dispute.
Ok, sorted, old Grumps of the typing fingers, has been put back in his place. It was my “Withdrawal of privileges ultimatum” that did it. To-wit, start typing or I’ll not allow you to take me walkies, give me treats, allow you to give me tickles and the last and most devastating, no more Candy kisses for you my boy! A girl has to use all her weapons with precision and skill!
Normal service will now resume…………..
I love being home with Mum, she plays with me, feeds me and looks after me. I have my toys, with increasing noises so I can always get her attention if she ignores me. I have my perches on the bed and in the front bedroom to nosey out of. On Saturday she takes me a long walk up on the Braes, where I can walk, run, piddle, poo and sniff to my heart’s content. We meet lots of friends, like my pal Luna the Lurcher or Isla of the three legs, Willow, who Mum and Grumps helped to teach not to run after bikers. There are packs of doggies out with their walkers, where a “good girl” can mooch the odd treat. There are pools, streams and mud holes where a girl can cold down and ease her paws. There are lots of shaded walks where it’s cool out of the sun and sheltered from the wind or, more often, dry out of the rain. The only draw back, comes with the word, Braes! The bleeding car park is at the top of the sodding hill! By the time we’ve finished a 2 hour “Mum” walk, my pace is down to what Grumps calls my “Dan” walk. He says I walk to the tune; Dan, dan, da-dan, da da-dan, da-dan, da-dan….it’s a Grumps joke, need I say more? In the afternoon we go over to see Granny where I glom treats and Mum gloms her dinner. Later we go home where I allow Mum to share her bed.
That was yesterday, before, as I may have mentioned, they ABANDONED me! Here am I sitting at the top of the bike trail after running about, frantically, looking for them. I sat down hoping that they would come back and rescue me. There were a few passing bikers but no sign of my family. By now I was getting very edgy. Then I heard a distant “Candy”, “Caaaandy”, “Candles”, and the ubiquitous bribe “Weeties!” Right, they are down there, panic over, at this end, so now, let the buggers stew! After a while of treating their cries with liberal amounts of ignore, Grumps’ voice becoming increasingly strained….(I was panicking, I thought we had lost you! You could have been anywhere, even hit by a speeding bike, I was getting frantic! Well you shouldn’t have left me, should you? [Shhhhh …… I’m still playing hard ball.…shhhh])….I sit smugly waiting for someone to twig and then have to come back up to find me. Serves them right, I could hear Mum’s voice getting nearer “Candy c’mon, hurry, get Grumps.” Ha, trying to ring my bells, this Pomsky’s not falling for it, nope staying here, you come up to me! Then I saw her, “Candles, Candles” arms wide, relief oozing from her, something in my inner doggie overcame the Diva’s “What’s all the panic? I waited at the sensible place so you could find me!” and before I knew what was happening my bum was off the ground and I was racing into her arms. All my resolve gone, I ran down hill with her. Bugger! I’d waited all that time for someone to come up for me and now I’m at the bottom of the bloody hill and the car’s at the top, ho-hum at least we’re all safe. Grumps saw her and quavered “Have you got Candy?” Mum pointed back up the track as a streak of blonde fluff, wet nose and a fluffy tail came into his view, I could hear his gasp of emotion. He wrapped me in his arms and tears, real tears, fell on my neck. I licked him, aw’ you’ve, really, just got to love an old git, as soppy as that! We continued the ride, with me between the bikes, Grumps bringing up the rear, the Clan reunited. As we reached the car at the top of the hill and Mum rubbed me down I knew that I loved them all, all my extended family. I love Clan McCandy and I’m still the top dog!
(Ok, Grumpings of mine, that’s another one done. What will we do next? Weel, as yer devoted Minion, {aye A got the bit aboot “yellow wi’ blue dungerees”} I suggest we use the summer for mair adventures? Ye fancy a wee trip in Puffin? Mmmmmm, what do you think? As you said, Salty Sam, I am not, nor am I open to more impromptu swimming lessons or “A wee shotty in Floss” with Mum. Hope to see Holly, go camping whatever. Pity you’ve no hair or we could fade out with “Let the Sun shine in,” cause the readers would be blinded by the glare! Ya cheeky wee……………exit, stage right, still bickering!)
It was Sunday, which started with my usual assault on Mum’s head with my bum….. (Thon must be a fine sight in the mornin’, a hairy butt shairin’ yer pillow. I’ll thank you Grumps, my dear, do leave my butt out of this, if you don’t mind! Aye, I’m sure yer Maw would also be pleased if ye left it oot o’ her face!)….I usually give her a thump with my paw when I know she’s awake because, “It’s Tickle Time!” This used to happen earlier, before sneaky Mum learned to sleep with the blinds half up, so I could do a nosey out of the bedroom window at the happenings out in the road. I lie, somewhat immodestly, on my back, legs apart, belly exposed for the statutory, elongated tickle session. Any, stop or abbreviated “Mastermind” session, that is “you’ve started, so I’LL tell you when you’ve FINISHED!” is summerly indicated by me gripping the immobile arm and redirecting it back to its allotted tickling task!...... (I’m surprised that ye dinnae hae bald spot oan yer belly, wi’ aw’ they tickles sessions! Mmmmmm! You must have been a tickle magnet yourself then, oh Grumps of the Polished top. You must have to wear your cowboy hats to prevent everyone else from being blinded by the glare! Has anybudy ever ca’d ye a wee….Yes, many times, including you. Uh-hym, back to the typing Grumps, if you please. Mumble mumble swear mumble continued swearing………….)…… After a comfort break in the garden, it’s up onto my perch in the front bedroom to look for Grumps. I’d spent 2 weeks with my bum glued to it, earlier because he’d abandoned me, again, to go on holiday! It’s true, you just don’t get the Grumpses these days, like you used to! Smuff!!! Anyway, when I see his car, it’s ears erect, wait till he shows me he has his “entry fees”…. (usually 3 tasty treats, Mum had to tell him off for giving me too many. Was I consulted? Nope! U.D.I. was pronounced, Unilateral Declaration of In-digestion! That’s cause ye failed yer Fat Pie Club weight-in, Tubby! Its because muscle is heavier than fat, I’m athletically built, besides you “cannae talk” Lard tub!)…. When I see him nearly at the door, I jump down and go to the top of the stairs, so I can descend like a tail-wagging, fluffy avalanche and demand my dues. Then it’s run into the front room, jump up onto the settee, sit/lie back in the corner and enjoy a second tickle time. This position makes it difficult to give him kisses……..(did I say that? Yip an’ I’ve typed it! Mmmmmm….. bugger, oh well, I can’t help loving the old git. Don’t you dare type that! Done! Smuff smuff smuff!)…...Now I have to get the correct balance between the 2 conflicting desires here; tickles or walkies! When I’ve had enough of the former, with my usual tact and subtlety, I jump down, head for the door, tongue lolling and give him the old blue eye stare. Mum gets her bike onto Grump’s rack and off we went to Cathrin Braes for fun speed, excitement and ABANDONMENT! SMUFF!!!! After the faithful, put-upon, doggie ran after her guardians, escorted old Puffing Billy up the Clyde Climb, they went and left me marooned, unprotected and defenceless!.... (And I’ll bite any bugger’s hand off if they say otherwise!)….Ok, maybe I’d wandered off slightly trying to catch the odd squirrel or frighten a magpie or two but that’s no excuse for their deepest treachery!
Now this wouldn’t happen on a Monday or Tuesday, when Grumps comes down to pick me up shortly after Mum’s gone to work. I get taken up to see my Andy Neph. …..(When I was a pup, she was always watching tennis so Auntie Stephanie morphed into Andy, after her favourite player and Neph cause Stephanie is to long a word for a wee doggie to say. Ye mean it’s quicker tae say “ ‘Allo Andy Neph, where’s my toast?” Mmmmm, good point, that’s the very one!)…. Grumps takes me a lead walk and lets me sniff all I like and of course perform the essential 2ps+p….. (2 piddles and a poo.)…. I get to lie under my tree in my….(Hmmm, my! MY!)….garden. I survey the road and remind everyone that they are supposed to give me prior notice, in triplicate, of their intention to pass MY garden. Inevitably my attention turns to the neighbours, Auntie Maureen and Uncle Gordon. Both of whom are open to me glomming a treat. If they don’t see me in the garden, I’ll move my position to look directly at their window, no result, so sit at the small wall right under their window, nope, so raise the old stakes and front paws on the wall and stare directly into their lounge. If this subtle approach fails to get the desired result of my chops munching, it’s the bark-bark routine just to say. “Good morning, my friends, look your favourite moocher is here and her jaws are currently unemployed!” I also like to play the game of “back garden amnesia,” that is, the Auntie Maureen and Uncle Gordon of this garden are not the same as in the front and these ones, certainly, have not given me any treats as yet. Hope and a brass neck can get you most things. Sometimes we go out in the car to Cathrin Braes, for a walk, sometimes a lead walk, sometimes it’s just great to sleep in the shade under my tree. Mum bought me a cooling vest which I hate being put on but love once it’s on. ….......(Well? What was that, Soto voice, o Grumps of mine? Weel A wis jist reflectin’, that bein’ an Irish Lady wi’ the intelligence o’ a Pomeranian an’ the stubbornness o’ a Husky, it’s nae wonder that yer an awkward wee Madame! Jist sayin’, ye ken. Yes, I heard you “jist sayin’’ and I am ignoring it and will treat it with as it deserves.[ Smuff, with contemptuous nose in the air……………just wait till I have a belly full of chicken and smell the inside of your car…..jist sayin!])….Now something I do have to praise is Grumps’ car, it has a long back seat with a Candy Cooler blower in the middle so I can lie down and get a great breeze up my nose and there’s a Pomsky shelf to jump upon, when we stop somewhere, to get a good gander at the surroundings. I’ve got to say that I’m not always pleased to see Mum when she comes to pick me up after work to take me home. She doesn’t always get the whole body wagging, tongue slobbering welcome Grumps gets, or the “please feed me” adoration reserved for Andy Neph in her kitchen. If she ever set up her own religion, where the chief ceremony of worship is the ritual of “saying bye bye to Andy Neph,” where I sit, paw raised and she gives me special treats, I’d be number one disciple! It’s just a doggie thing, Mum is the pack leader, so she gets ignored out of respect/huff/peek/cussedness, sometimes all four. Grumps gets the kisses, cause I own him!
(Ah, you allowed me to digress, guilty conscience eh? Naw, o great Pomsky, just following yer commands and lettin’ ye rattle yer gums. Smuff.)…. Ok, back to the incriminating evidence, when I reached Mum,….(who was by then nearly turned to stone waiting on you, old creaky knees)…. there was a world shortage of Grumps! Mum started down the track with a perfunctory “Candy come!” She was well rested, did I get a breather or a sliver of roast beef ….(well a doggie can hope)….or even a single treat? Nope! Just a “Candy come!” Being a faithful and obedient doggie…. (Cough! Aye, right! Something to say, dearest Grumps? Aye, tae ye, a command is jist the openin’ o’ a negotiation! Yer recall varies wi’ whit’s in the auld treat pouch. It’s amazing how good it is when there’s chicken, tae “ Sorry A cannae hear ye!” When it’s jist plain Kibble!” Simple coincidence, probably due to atmospheric fluctuations. Mmmmm, as A’ve said afore, Aye right!)….I followed mum at the gallop/job/trot/fast waddle/slouch..(delete as believable), when I realised there was no Grumps! He was my responsibility, old, frail and flabby….(Cheeky wee bugger, aw’ richt A’ll admit tae twa oot o’ the three.)….I had to go off to find and protect him. Little did I know that he’d left his canine chum to scoot down the track without a single consideration for me!
(Delay to allow the full horror of the charge to sink in!)
As Mum whizzed round her 3rd berm, I veered off to chase a…..( Yes, ye were sayin’? Eh? Mmm?)…. chase around, up hill to find my Grumps! (Phew!) In the meantime my Mum shot off leaving her poor wee doggie alone. I frantically searched for Grumps, was he back here? Was he over there? Was he up this tree with 2 squirrels, 3 magpies and a woodpecker? Or over there with those doggie walkers? When I got back, it was to find a Mum and Grumps free zone, I was completely abandoned by my nearest and dearest.
My Granny would never have treated her wee lassie like this!
On Wednesday days, I stay with Grumps and we usually go out somewhere, to other parks or the beach, then he takes me over to stay with my Granny. She usually comes down to the car as Grumps is getting me and my travelling bag ready….(Aye, it wis an auld poly bag till last week, when yer Granny objected, tellin’ me, tae tell yer Maw, tae find yer nice broon bag. Mmmm, I know what you mean, when Granny tells you, you stay “telt!”) Granny lives up one flight of stairs in a Close but when she takes me from Grumps, I always pull her towards the door to the back garden. It’s “Candy come.” Sniff, waddle, waddle but above all, ignore. Then “Candy c’mon, hurry.” Continued sniff with an extra portion of ignore. Oops, she’s marching over to me “Candy ya wee bugger, get up they stairs right noo!” …..(A good gambler always knows when to fold their hand, so)…. It’s ears flat, tail tucked in, back arched and head down as I head for the stairs. Now I’m not saying that my Granny does not have a heart of gold but whatever metal her tongue is made of it’s a hell of a lot sharper!
Life at Granny’s is a lot different. John, for reasons of his own, gets up at 3.00am, suits me cause I get my toast and doggie peanut butter, yumph! I get taken out on lead walks and sometimes we go to the grounds of the College Grumps went to and let off to have a run around. At 11.00 my pal Uncle Gordon, Mum’s brother, gives me a treat, usually a dental stick. A few times, if he comes in late I get the stick from Granny, which of course doesn’t stop me from trying to mooch another from Gordon. We get to the bit where my gob is open, silvery glands are at full function, when, pre-yumph, Granny sticks her head round her bedroom door and says, unnecessarily, things like “Gordon, the wee bugger’s had wan already!” Bob shuts, silvery glands are close down and with a significant Smuff, thwarted, I head back to bed. My best doggie friend, Beccy, lives upstairs in the same close. We play together in the back garden, play, bicker, fall out, make up, play and so on. Lately a new pup, Rollo, has come to join us and I’ve been teaching him his place in our pack…..a long way below me!
Not so long ago, a certain Grumps of my acquaintance, managed to feed me with too much chicken. Now I must admit that I hold varying views on that last statement, according to my front end, it is complete nonsense “too much chicken” cannot exist! I’m afraid that my tummy and rear end disagree, so that’s a stalemate, the pretty end equals the other 2 but, unfortunately, Granny’s got the casting vote. This was because, during our rough and tumble session, round the back, I sort of …..leaked…leaked a lot, mmm very loosely. Then we all, sort of, continued to play in the area of the leakage….what we covered ourselves in, was, certainly, not glory…. no need to draw pictures? Granny told Mum to tell Grumps not to do it again…….weeeell that was the jist of her message because he seemed to have been dropped right into the leakage as well. When I got up to the flat, I decided that it was easier if I made the decision to have a shower. This caused me to disappear from sight while Granny hunted for me, only to find me sitting in the shower, in the dark with an “Ok let’s do this.” expression on my face. The moral, Grumps, of the story being, “get into the shower to get out of the sh……”
I really like Wednesday and Thursday nights, they being BETRAYAL free, Gordon brings in carry outs and I mooch as much as possible to turn “carry outs” into “Candy ins!” Granny’s nearly pulled off her feet up the stairs when my nose catches the smell of Gordon’s fish supper! It’s upstairs quickly, tongue licking chops, before he has a chance to finish it. I can usually glom a few chips and some fish. On Thursdays he brings in a curry, I’m not allowed any of that but I like some of his boiled rice if it’s served in the foil container. Every so often, though, Gordon has a cuisine aberration by bringing in a Pizza. Now, as has been told in previous stories, I have no problem with pizza in general but Gordon only likes Hawaiian! I mean, I ask you, a pizza with pineapple..eeeech….I just give him the, “poor disappointed puppy” look, sigh, smuff and head back to my bed. There’s nothing like a guilt trip to underline a doggie’s displeasure and ruin his appetite! In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, “Ain’t I a stinker?”….(Aye, especially when ye perfume yer sel’ wi’ yer favourite Eau de Merde Renard! Grumps, remember I’m just a wee Irish doggie, ok, maybe a gobby wee doggie, so, to use your parlance, “Eh! Whit?” Ye like tae roll in Fox sh… cr……kie …poo! Oh, ok, that’s me!)
Another nourishing delight is a habit both Granny and Grumps share, that’s gravity delivered morsels. If it’s not deliberate then they have a very fortunate condition where their hands don’t know where their mouths are. “Every cloud has a silver lining?” Well this one has a very happy blonde canine one instead! Another habit they share and according to Mum, I do too, is noisy eating. She says if she recorded Grumps and Granny each eating an apple and blended it with me enjoying a chew, she could sell it to the United Nations as a peace tool. Just threaten to play it until everyone stops fighting!….(Sounds good to me, what do you think? Bet we’d get bugger-all in the way o’ Royalties!)
Mum comes to pick me up on Fridays, .…(that is before she took to disowning me in treacherous forests)…. after work. I’m up at Granny’s window, from after my afternoon walk until Mum shows up. Every car is inspected but if it proves to contain a world shortage of Mum, receives a disgusted smuff. When she does appear, I have to consider my welcoming strategy, it can be anything from a whole body wag with the extra portion of slobbering tongue, to the “Oh? Remembered me, have you?” cold shoulder treatment, depending on how much of a Madame I feel….(Ok, I said it, so zip it you! Me, my lips are sealed, shtoom, utter silence! Far be it from me tae say yer a right Diva, when yer in the huff! My remarks will be totally Diva-free zones. No mention will A make o’ ye turnin’ yer head away frae the subject o’ yin o’ yer huffs, especially as A hae been, the said, subject, yince or twice! While A’m at it, ye use the same tactics whenever yer Maw get oot her phone tae tak’ a picture, yer aw’ nice pose till she‘s ready then ye go aw’ camera shy! Enough Grumps, I am the author of these chronicles! Eh, Co-author! Mmmmmm? Now how can I break this to you? You know that doggies do not have good colour vision? Ok, keeping that in mind, I always imagine you as being yellow, wearing glasses and blue dungarees! Ya Wee……………….)
There will be a short break in transmission while we sort out our industrial dispute.
Ok, sorted, old Grumps of the typing fingers, has been put back in his place. It was my “Withdrawal of privileges ultimatum” that did it. To-wit, start typing or I’ll not allow you to take me walkies, give me treats, allow you to give me tickles and the last and most devastating, no more Candy kisses for you my boy! A girl has to use all her weapons with precision and skill!
Normal service will now resume…………..
I love being home with Mum, she plays with me, feeds me and looks after me. I have my toys, with increasing noises so I can always get her attention if she ignores me. I have my perches on the bed and in the front bedroom to nosey out of. On Saturday she takes me a long walk up on the Braes, where I can walk, run, piddle, poo and sniff to my heart’s content. We meet lots of friends, like my pal Luna the Lurcher or Isla of the three legs, Willow, who Mum and Grumps helped to teach not to run after bikers. There are packs of doggies out with their walkers, where a “good girl” can mooch the odd treat. There are pools, streams and mud holes where a girl can cold down and ease her paws. There are lots of shaded walks where it’s cool out of the sun and sheltered from the wind or, more often, dry out of the rain. The only draw back, comes with the word, Braes! The bleeding car park is at the top of the sodding hill! By the time we’ve finished a 2 hour “Mum” walk, my pace is down to what Grumps calls my “Dan” walk. He says I walk to the tune; Dan, dan, da-dan, da da-dan, da-dan, da-dan….it’s a Grumps joke, need I say more? In the afternoon we go over to see Granny where I glom treats and Mum gloms her dinner. Later we go home where I allow Mum to share her bed.
That was yesterday, before, as I may have mentioned, they ABANDONED me! Here am I sitting at the top of the bike trail after running about, frantically, looking for them. I sat down hoping that they would come back and rescue me. There were a few passing bikers but no sign of my family. By now I was getting very edgy. Then I heard a distant “Candy”, “Caaaandy”, “Candles”, and the ubiquitous bribe “Weeties!” Right, they are down there, panic over, at this end, so now, let the buggers stew! After a while of treating their cries with liberal amounts of ignore, Grumps’ voice becoming increasingly strained….(I was panicking, I thought we had lost you! You could have been anywhere, even hit by a speeding bike, I was getting frantic! Well you shouldn’t have left me, should you? [Shhhhh …… I’m still playing hard ball.…shhhh])….I sit smugly waiting for someone to twig and then have to come back up to find me. Serves them right, I could hear Mum’s voice getting nearer “Candy c’mon, hurry, get Grumps.” Ha, trying to ring my bells, this Pomsky’s not falling for it, nope staying here, you come up to me! Then I saw her, “Candles, Candles” arms wide, relief oozing from her, something in my inner doggie overcame the Diva’s “What’s all the panic? I waited at the sensible place so you could find me!” and before I knew what was happening my bum was off the ground and I was racing into her arms. All my resolve gone, I ran down hill with her. Bugger! I’d waited all that time for someone to come up for me and now I’m at the bottom of the bloody hill and the car’s at the top, ho-hum at least we’re all safe. Grumps saw her and quavered “Have you got Candy?” Mum pointed back up the track as a streak of blonde fluff, wet nose and a fluffy tail came into his view, I could hear his gasp of emotion. He wrapped me in his arms and tears, real tears, fell on my neck. I licked him, aw’ you’ve, really, just got to love an old git, as soppy as that! We continued the ride, with me between the bikes, Grumps bringing up the rear, the Clan reunited. As we reached the car at the top of the hill and Mum rubbed me down I knew that I loved them all, all my extended family. I love Clan McCandy and I’m still the top dog!
(Ok, Grumpings of mine, that’s another one done. What will we do next? Weel, as yer devoted Minion, {aye A got the bit aboot “yellow wi’ blue dungerees”} I suggest we use the summer for mair adventures? Ye fancy a wee trip in Puffin? Mmmmmm, what do you think? As you said, Salty Sam, I am not, nor am I open to more impromptu swimming lessons or “A wee shotty in Floss” with Mum. Hope to see Holly, go camping whatever. Pity you’ve no hair or we could fade out with “Let the Sun shine in,” cause the readers would be blinded by the glare! Ya cheeky wee……………exit, stage right, still bickering!)
About the Author
Edinburgh-born Roger McKillop is a retired Sports Studies lecturer. He has been writing poetry in Scots for many years and has had his work published in The Scots Magazine. His pen name is Roger Ceann Maol Beag, which means Wee Roger with the Bald Head!