Well shock horror I’m in the dog house. Colour me bothered. I’m still getting my food and cuddles on demand so I reckon they’ve overlooked my so-called transgression.
I am appealing to you, my fellow furries (and sometime furies) to wade into the argument.
I am a watch dog. A fine (well, almost fine) specimen of years of breeding and it must be said some years of in-breeding. However, I digress.
I am ever alert ready to protect my people, my tribe. Or at the very least to make sure they recognise the danger so that they can protect me 🙂
This week the sun shone briefly in Melbourne. Mum opened the door into the garden and Raffy and I lay in the sun.
Outside? Good grief no…. far too cold.
We lay on the soft carpet inside where the sun was shining, we’re not stupid. Well, I’m not anyway.
The next thing I know something flutters under my nose and heads for the coffee table. A bird. In the house! Can you believe it? And not just any bird. That stupid Mynah bird which constantly hops around the other side of the glass door taunting me and pecking at the outdoor cushions.
So I did what any red-blooded Tibbie would do. I caught it. Mum and Dad were shouting ‘Zena, No!’ but did I listen? Of course not.
We were under attack and I leapt into action without thought of the danger to myself.
The taste of feathers wasn’t good, they prickle and get caught in your teeth but did I care? Of course not. I reacted instinctively to protect those I love, I threw myself into danger. I should have a medal. I am so not appreciated.
Then before I could investigate this flapping thing any closer Dad grabbed me and made me release it. All I could do was spit out the fluffy bits.
I know. All that effort and he just let it fly off. I ask you. My super fast reactions were wasted on them. Did I get praise? No I did not.
I didn’t actually get into trouble but I could tell Dad wasn’t pleased. Apparently he likes those pesky birds. Though I can’t understand why if he likes them he won’t allow me to roll in the droppings they leave. Sometimes I cannot understand these humans I live with.
Anyway, back to the story.
Now you may ask what was our big, brave 40 kilo poodle doing at the time? This dog who was bred to be a retriever of game or a gun dog. This dog who has been bred to wade into water and grab the ducks.
It is rather embarrassing and I am ashamed to tell you but….twist my paw.
Okay, here goes.
He was hopping from paw to paw with a shocked expression on his face. Literally dancing on the spot. He looked ridiculous. He didn’t know whether to run or to hide and as he doesn’t like confined spaces there wasn’t anywhere to hide.
Our big, brave scary poodle was petrified. And to think I had once assumed he would be my bodyguard. Ha! And again I say….Ha!
It was a tiny bird. Perhaps he’s also afraid of spiders.
All I can say is that we had better not rely on him in a crisis.
I’ve heard about the poodle prance but I haven’t seen it before but believe you me he was prancing and it wasn’t with pride!
Here he is doing what he does best…….NOTHING 🙂