Clancy does not like my ‘chidna. He is pointedly looking the other way as I write this. He thinks I play with ‘chidna instead of him. He is certainly not allowed to touch ‘chidna. Except for once, when he was very sick. He couldn’t even stand up, let alone go on a walk. He hated us leaving him behind. One day we got home from a walk and Clancy had crawled over to ‘chidna on his elbows, and was lying, watching the door, ‘chidna between his front paws, and his nose pressed into him. It was so sad I did not think to get cross and snatch ‘chidna away, which is what I usually do.
Other things I love: Food, all food. Walks. Drives in the car. Lying in the sun. Bones. Friends visiting. The community garden.
Clancy has read my blog and, looking very hurt, said ‘what about Åsa and me?’
The answer is I didn’t have any of these things until I lived with Clancy and Åsa.
Clancy wants to do his own list. Here it is.
What Clancy likes: Zac and Åsa. (A long meaningful pause follows). Food. Walks. Meeting other dogs and people and going for rides in the car. Friends. Granny and grandad. Lying on his back and Åsa tickling his tummy. Pats and snuggles. Åsa speaking in a soft voice.
That’s Clancy for you.
Here is what I don’t like: small boys, Malamutes and baths.
I asked Clancy what he doesn’t like. He had to think very hard about this. He likes most things, except the ring of the telephone. And, although he hesitated to say this because he does like to be a friendly dog, he did admit he does not like Frankie. Åsa says Frankie is our cousin, but we don’t think he looks anything like us, I mean, he’s a cocker spaniel! The first time we visited Åsa’s sister Janet, where Frankie lives, I hid in the bathroom and Clancy stayed by the front door, ready to leave. Frankie lounged about looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. I won’t repeat what he actually said to us.
The last time we visited Janet, Frankie met us at the door. He held his stout, front right leg up and planted his paw firmly in the middle of Clancy’s chest. He looked like a policeman holding up his hand to say ‘stop’. Poor Clancy didn’t know what to do. I snuck in past Frankie, aiming to check out his leftovers. Clancy retreated, and stood by the front gate whining to himself. In the end Janet called him in. Too late, I’d cleaned out Frankie’s bowl. It was almost as good as the time Janet left the pate, unwatched, on the coffee table. Yummm.
Bye from Zac.
Zac and ‘chidna