Dexter Dog Diary, Week One, Friday
Friday (cuma, joo-ma, 12 mart, 2010)
The Axes wake early and he prepares the customary cup of tea. They are really struggling with the Cyprus Today midweek crossword puzzle. So much so, that I feel duty-bound to remind them that there is more to life than brain-teasers – me and my morning constitutional for a start. On this point, but for a different reason, I have the whole-hearted support of Sonny. He has the most impressive eyes; they seem far too large for his head. You only have to look into them, and you bend to his will. Personally, I never look him in the eye; but the humans have not yet sussed the process and before you can say Jack Russell, Sonny has his breakfast; I have my biscuits and am off for a leisurely saunter through the morning dew.
X has been considering a stroll up the road but changes his mind – and I know why. I am slightly – not very – ashamed to say it is due, in part, to my occasional absent-mindedness and partly his over-keen sense of hygiene. I can do the macho-dog thing and lope up to a lamp-post and pee on it with a cocked leg with hardly a break in my stride. But, since I have “a few miles on the clock”, so to speak, I have taken the philosophical view: why deny myself the full scope of life’s little pleasures? I can remember my puppy days, when controlled peeing was new and, to get the required degree of accuracy, I had to adopt a stance more like that of the noble horse when he “stales”, as they say in the equine world. This morning, due to the delay, I am good and ready when the time comes and I reach my favourite grassy knoll by the road-side. So much so, that I am slightly careless with my stance and, not only pee directly onto my front feet but, due to the incline, while I am helpless to move, a river of the stuff is flowing around my back-left foot. With the benefit of those contact-lenses, he spots my predicament but, like a true gent, says not a word but changes course toward the lush, dewy grass between the gorse and the olive groves for a subtle foot-rinse.
There is an air of excitement when we get back, which is due to one thing; line-dancing. Y goes to King’s Bar at Turquoise Bay on a Wednesday afternoon and to Remzi’s at Esentepe on a Friday morning. I have never witnessed this activity in person, so I cannot comment on the whys and wherefores, but it is noticeably worth looking forward to and she is trying to discourage him from starting any “techno” stuff with the Roman blind in the spare room. She has almost convinced herself that it is no fault of hers that only one side of the blind wants to rise when she pulls the cord-chain, but I can tell that he is not at all convinced. Notwithstanding the onset of line-dancing, he decides to “have a look at it”.
Frankly, I smell disaster - especially when he is up on the stool with the recalcitrant blind drooped over his back, fiddling with the support brackets. In fact, I am pretty sure that something as hilarious as it is painful is about to happen. Well, to be honest, I can’t make up my mind if I am relieved or disappointed when his mission is accomplished without loss of blood or even loss of temper. He is so relaxed about getting to Esentepe by 10.30 that he offers to read her an extract from his writings. Mistake! Without his noticing it, she has been getting wound-up about the possibility of a trip to the hospital instead of the café. So he gets a flea in his ear – but they do get away promptly – and remember to take the exchange water bottle this time.
When he gets back with the water, I get the distinct impression that he is hell-bent on pushing his luck since fortune smiled on his efforts with the Roman blind. And, sure enough, he has been beachcombing for a plastic cap to serve as a wash-basin plug. He had an abortive search last time we all went to the beach, this time (he must have detoured on the way home from Esentepe), as he proudly tells her later, he has actually found one of the correct size to fit inside the plug she brought back from the shops , and inside the plug-hole. Another result! …Sad, but a result.
He’s cutting it fine and even thinks about leaving the cup of coffee he just brewed, but he gets away in time to collect her for lunch at Alagadi and another effort at topping-up the dongle at Lemar in Karakum. As far as I can make out, the dongle top-up is still a fantasy, but she takes it philosophically and I have bigger worries – they are putting on walking boots. This could be serious.
Later that day… I am knackered and hungry. All the way up that mountain, stopping to photograph every b… orchid (or is it Bee Orchid?). I finally get my meal. He kindly vacs my bed; the machine even sounds as if it is sucking better, but I don’t think he is satisfied. What do I care? I crash for the evening and need a lot of persuasion to stagger downstairs for my late-night pee. I’m not sure how much more I can take! I forgot to mention that this is, in part, due to meeting Poppy on the way home. She is a poodle cross-breed and quite cute, but… only a year old. She leaps about like a jack-in-the-box on “speed”. For the first time, I let-on that I can speak. When an old dog is tired and hungry, he needs to make it perfectly clear that this is NOT the time to play. Poppy’s humans are Bill and Wendy. They are very nice people but a bit lax on discipline. Needless to say, Poppy rules the roost. Well done pup!