Stig’s blog

I am a big brown dog. I have long legs and big paws and a great big head. Åsa calls me Stig. I used to have another name and I used to live somewhere else.



I lived with an old man, well he wasn’t always old but then neither was I. We had things sorted: what time we got up, when we ate breakfast and tea, when and where we walked, even what we watched on TV. It suited me. But then the old man wasn’t there, and I got sad. Then I went to the pound and I got even sadder. I was about the miserablest dog you ever saw. Then Åsa and her mum Vincie came to give me a new home. I was so sad I hardly realised what was happening. They helped me into the backseat of Åsa’s car. Vincie sat next to me. I put my old head on her knee, and Vincie stroked it. She said to Åsa, “This dog has been loved”. Loved I thought, so that’s what it was.
I was in a bad way, I could hardly walk without my back legs collapsing and I was very thin. Well, the vet visited and gave me injections, then I went to visit Martin and had acupuncture and chiropractics and then physio. Åsa took me on longer and longer walks and at night she helped do my leg exercises. Now I can even trot, and people say how much better I am. They say I must have been a magnificent dog when I was young. I was.
When I first met Clancy I thought he was a bit simple. When he ate, he ate. When he lay down, he lay down, and when he slept, he slept. He just seemed to do what was in front of him to do. Then one day when we were lying in the sun together he told me how he once had a best friend, Zac, who died and how sad he was. Clancy said he still thinks about him. I was very interested in that. I have never had a best friend. I would like to have one. I think Clancy would make a very good best friend.
Emmylou was another matter. She drove me crazy, she was so loud and energetic, bounding up to me and trying to smoosh me. Yuck, girl dog germs. Clancy said she drove him crazy at first, too. But he said he got used to her and he pointed out she is always cheerful, she never even sulks, she just bounces back from any trouble. Like the day she swiped a stick of butter from the kitchen bench and ate half of it – on Åsa’s bed. When Åsa got home Emmylou hid under the table, a sure sign she’d been naughty. Clancy and I kept well out of the way. Åsa got really, really cross, but Emmylou didn’t care, she just ran off and hid under the house for an hour or so then came out with her tailing wagging looking, well, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
I have got used to Emmylou now. The other night she snuggled up to me, and I really rather liked it. In fact I have got used to living here with Clancy and Emmylou.
Not so long ago I was lying down with my head on Åsa’s knee. I started puzzling over things. How did I get to be here, where was my old man, and how did I get so old?
I looked up at Åsa. She just smiled and stroked my head and said ‘don’t you worry about that, you’re here with us now’. And I thought, ‘so I am’, and put my head down next to Clancy, who was snoozing peacefully, and fell asleep.

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