An Island Off an Island

Hi there, this is Ruby.

Things haven’t been going particularly smoothly of late. I think I have caused Mum and Dad a fair bit of angst – even panic, over the last couple of weeks.

Back to that later. Let’s start on a more positive note. Weather has been great. After a couple of wet weeks, the sun has been out, very little wind and temperatures that still allow a black Labrador to have the occasional dip in the Channel.

 I’ve been sticking pretty close to Dad as he has decided to add yet another level to the back garden – this one right up in the back corner to allow views over to the south. That involved lots of digging initially which I was able to help with. I did get a bit sick of that area and proceeded to dig my own hole in the middle of the new lawn. For some reason that was not met with a huge deal of enthusiasm from Dad. I think I heard rumblings of “Bloody dog”. The next job was screwing down the new deck up there. I like to help as closely as possible by hanging over each and every drill hole and screw as they happen. I have to be nuzzled out of the way, which I quite like.

Sometimes he gets very distracted and sits for long periods just watching the birds. I can’t quite see the attraction but it’s a pleasant way to spend some time if the sun is out and I can stretch out on the mud/dirt. The other day he spent a good amount of time observing a family of Blue Wrens taking advantage of a newly cultivated patch of land, all the while taking in the antics of Crimson Robins, New Holland Honey Eaters and Eastern Spinebills. I can’t begin to describe the excitement and joy he expressed when a bandicoot hurried out of the undergrowth. I would have thought that a black Labrador is excitement enough for him!

However, back to the series of unfortunate events that is the real reason for this post. They really have been coming thick and fast of late. For most of the ensuing incidents I hold M&D largely responsible. Their inability to put things properly away really shows their naivety when it comes to my breed, (you’d think that after three others they would have learnt). Despite what they believe, the kitchen benches are not out of range. So, subsequently I was able to ‘access’ a whole dark rye loaf and a whole week’s worth of my chicken breast fillets. It seemed like a good idea at the time but boy I paid for it later. I had to lay very quietly on the lounge after both opportunities. Thank goodness for my cast-iron Canadian Maritime constitution.

One endearing trait that I know they appreciate is when you surmise that they are coming back inside, you grab something that they value and race off with it – preferably outside. This means one of two outcomes – one is a chase around the garden or deck, or two, much yelling and threats. Both are real fun and we all love it. Last week though, there was a very different reaction from Mum. She didn’t see the humour or fun when I grabbed her pin-cushion and took off out on to the deck, scattering pins and needles everywhere. I have to admit that it wasn’t a pleasant experience because all too late I realized that I had several very sharp and painful hardware in and around my mouth. Again I retreated to the lounge feeling a little under the weather. M&D’s panic and then the concern were palpable and was only a little assuaged after consultation with the emergency vet. Pain was followed by total indignity as all my ‘doings’ were forensically examined over the next few days. Everyone was much happier when a needle was finally excavated.

 My next tribulation was not only worrying for M&D but very painful for me. I was happily snoozing on the lounge when I felt inexplicably great agony in my mouth. I shot up and sought sanctuary under the table and eventually under a bed. I could not be consoled. All of us were perplexed as to what had caused this but M&D speculated that it must have been a bite or a sting from insect/arachnid unknown. I won’t be keen to have that happen again.

And so, to the last travail to bring you all up to date on the downside of a Labrador’s life on Bruny. Mum’s been working pretty hard lately and decided that they would treat themselves to a couple of nights of indulgence and luxury in Hobart. All this unbeknownst to me of course. They weren’t letting on, knowing that it would require me to go to Margate Dog Resort. Having had ‘form’ at MDR, I was forced to have tranquilisers to curb my separation anxiety. Well, I let them have one night to themselves but got myself in such a state that the resort owner rang Mum to come and get me. I had been expelled from kennels! When we got home all I could do was to curl up in a ball and sleep the sleep of the dead. Mum came and slept on the lounge with me to make sure I was OK. They were so concerned for my welfare and self esteem that there was no hint of censure. They really do love me.

Love from the Island.