31 December 2011

A "Dog's gone" World

Hi. It’s me, CARIB.

Who am I? I am the four-legged member of this family. I get mentioned in the subtitle—the “ opinionated” dog. And yet, I have been reading this here blog and I've not seen any mention of me to date. I have therefore decided to take matters into my own paws. Besides, I have a few things to get off my coat- namely my life PBO (Post Baby Ouisie).

I think before I start though, I need to share a bit of background on me.


January 2004, Nevis, West Indies, Caribbean
I am born a bastard pup and left to fend for myself just days old. Full of fleas and worms the odds were not in my favour until a gal rescued our litter determined to find us all good homes.

I’ll never forget the day I first met dad. He smelt delicious! A perfect combination of steak tartare, grilled lobster and mango relish. I did not want to seem too eager so ignored his first advances to scratch my ears. Turns out, my arrogance is what won him over. Next thing I knew, I was riding in the back of his  Jeep snuggled in a box that was lined with the most beautifully scented white jackets.

Mom and dad were newlyweds. Dad worked long hours at the Resort and mom was in need of a pal. That’s where I stepped in. Paradise lost was soon found. Life on the island was great—daily beach walks, chasing lizards and monkeys and eating fresh coconuts right off the tree.

As dog food was scarce and very expensive for the crap you found in the tin, dad starting making me a weekly stew. Pigs feet were a regular gastro treat. Yum! I can still taste those chubby toes even now... 

Dad is still making my food. Any leftovers- in the pot. The table scraps at home ain't too shabby either. In my nearly eight years, I have eaten some culinary delights that other hounds only dream of: Côte de Boeuf,  lamb shank, Osso Bucco,  fine French cheeses... oh—and foie gras.

Life in England has been even better.  Cooler temps, miles of forest floor to sniff and explore, squirrels to tree, rabbits to chase into their warrens,  grazing cattle to harass in the back fields and a private garden all to myself.

During the warmer months you will find me out relaxing under my favorite Oak  tree. In the winter, I am nestled inside our cottage beside the chimney.  If mom is in the right mood, I manage to get permission to snuggle up on the leather couch.  I am a pretty good judge of her character. But even some days, I get that wrong.


January 2011, Hampshire, England
I had been suspecting for several months that something was changing with mom. For starters, she was clearing her plate at every meal. My treasured treat at the end of their meals ended. 

The second clue was that mom’s sense of smell was better than mine. Unfortunately for me, my odour was not one that she fancied which often lead to two baths a week.  I may be an island dog, but I hate the water. Hate being wet. Just mention the word “bath” and my tail will snake between my hind legs. 

Then one day, mom came home after being away for several days with a flatter tummy and Ouisie in her arms. 

The first 10-months with Ouisie were great. She stayed put. Then last month, she started to move. Since then, there has been no stopping her. Her designated play area expands daily. Mine diminishes hourly. My favourite sleeping nook by the radiator-- gone. My bed is now in the doorway with a biting draft. The other day, mom moved my bed completely out of the family room. An hour of barking and whining finally got me moved back in as the doorstop.
I do not understand Ouisie’s fascination with my tail. Personally, I do not know why I have it myself.  But let it be known, it hurts when yanked. For that matter, the pulling of my fur, my ears and any other part of me needs to stop. She has a basket full of stuffed animals-- pull on their ears for a change! As for the whiskers around my nose... having those pulled can bring even the strongest of us canines to our knees and elbows.


Snack time! Sitting underneath Ouisie’s high chair is a shower of treats--- Cheerios! Chicken! Spaghetti!  Snack time three times a day! Of late though, mom has been kicking me out of the kitchen during feeding  as I am “distracting”- 

I do not know what that means other than it results in the kitchen door being shut on my snout. I am not sure what the fuss is about as Ouisie just wants to share- and I am happy to oblige. 

When mom is in the right mood and I get to stay in the kitchen during meal time; I am made to sit and stay at the far end of the room until Ouisie has finished. Feedings take forever. 

I do not understand time- but some days in Nevis, mom kept saying how the days felt like eternity. I think I finally understand eternity. Watching Ouisie's unsteady fingers trying to pick up one rice grain at a time takes an  ETERNITY! I try desperately to keep my mind focused on other things to avoid a puddle of drool gathering at my paws. And just when I am at the brink of moving, the command arrives-- "Clean up." All dogs do go to heaven! Off I go to do my little part in helping keep mom's floors clean. 
I would like to set the records straight. I really do not like to play. Never have. My parents have tried over the years with countless toys, sticks, balls, empty plastic bottles—you name it. It boils down to the simple fact that I really hate to fetch. What a pointless game! From time to time I will chase a ball or a fallen apple from the tree around the garden a couple of times just to bemuse my owners. But after two goes- I’m bored.

I have never understood those dogs at the park that run for miles chasing a tennis ball or dragging a mile long branch along on their walks.  Why run around with a rubber ball or piece of bark in your mouth when instead you could enjoy smelling the base of a beautiful tree, chasing a squirrel or chewing on some fresh grass sprinkled in morning dew?

Ouisie loves toys. She has toys spread from one end of the room to the next that sing, light up, spin and get thrown in every direction. I have two toys. They are my bears. They aren’t really toys- they never leave my bed.  Despite Ouisie having toys in every room of the house, she insists on crawling to my bed to take my bears. I really wish Ouisie would not touch my bears. After all, they are not toys. 

The truth be said, life PBO (Post Baby Ouisie) is not worse. In truth, it is better. Sure, I get pinched and tugged- but it is kinda nice to have the extra attention. And now, I have three owners to love. I just need to train Ouisie to understand that my tail is not a toy, my bears are to be left on my bed, and to continue throwing food over the table of her highchair.

I think I hear mom coming back downstairs. Gotta wrap this up and get off the couch before being caught.  Better yet... perhaps tonight I will press my luck to see if I can catch some zzz’s from this comfy spot...



1 comment:

  1. What a great life Carib has enjoyed, first on Nevis and now in the U.K. Her other four-legged friends must be VERY jealous! She's been a great constant companion, a loyal friend and now the perfect entertainment for Eloise.


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