I got set up again Saturday. I was going to tell you about it yesterday but I'd experimented with the 'Scheduled' posting option when I was messing about on Friday, and it worked! So what got posted yesterday I actually wrote on Friday. Good eh? Anyway, am digressing.
It started in the morning. Mum and Uncle Hugh were doing ‘getting ready’, which I knew would mean that I would either be left 'home alone', or I would have to go somewhere with them in the car. It would all depend on where they were going and how long they expected to be away for.
‘Getting ready’ is the opposite of what they normally do in a morning these days and is usually a precursor to them doing something. It’s often done at night before they go to a restaurant or something like that. In the UK, when mum and Uncle Hugh worked together ‘getting ready’ was a fraught affair carried out at great speed very early in the morning, and invariably ended up with me being thrown into the back of mum’s car with her briefcase, laptop and my favourite toy. Mum and Uncle Hugh would then shoot off to work in their respective cars and I would spend most of my day in her office being given the occasional chew as a bribe to be good. I was still a very young pup and can’t remember much, to be honest. I do remember, however, being ‘baby-sat’ by mum’s colleagues if mum had meetings to go to and I got awfully spoiled. I miss that – being spoiled.
Anyway, I’m digressing. So, it started with mum and Uncle Hugh ‘getting ready’ and then I heard the ‘C’ word, and I don’t mean ‘Christmas’. No, I heard mum mention the dreaded ‘Chloe’. In case you’re new to this blog – read about the first time I met Chloe here: My blind date from hell!
I was filled with dread as I KNEW they were setting me up for another date. My fears were realised when I heard mum whisper to Uncle Hugh “He’d better not nip her again. I’d be mortified.” Uncle Hugh said, “I don’t think you should blame him entirely. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wound him up. You know he doesn’t like kids so why should we expect him to like pups?” Well thanks Uncle Hugh for your perception, spot on! How come you didn’t stick up for me the first time round?
I’m thinking NO WAY! NEVER AGAIN! NOT IN A MILLION YEARS! I AM NOT HAVING ANOTHER DATE WITH THAT BITCH FROM HELL! So my brain started whirring frantically wondering how I could get out of it, and then EUREKA! I decided to play ‘poorly paw’ (because when I did have a poorly paw mum made me stay in the house and wouldn’t let me go out). Anyway, I was really good at pretending. I even surprised myself. Mum was totally convinced. TOO convinced, she started talking about that dreaded ‘The Vets’.
AAAGGGHHH! OH NO! NOT ‘THE VETS’. I decided ‘poorly paw’ could turn out as bad as meeting Chloe again so I stopped limping dramatically and ran round and round and round in ‘crazy dog’ mode as fast as I could to show mum that ‘poorly paw’ was no more. Mum looked puzzled and said “That soon cleared up, it must have been a cramp attack…” I swear Uncle Hugh gave me one of his cynical looks but he didn’t say anything.
As it turned out they’d arranged to meet Stephanie and her hubby at the place where Uncle Hugh’s flying things live and go flying in Uncle Hugh’s new flying bus because Stephanie’s hubby wants to learn to fly. And…surprise surprise….they turned up with Chloe. The spawn of Satan.
She looked at me with her usual contempt and spat “If eet isn’t granddad greybeard. How yous going deeekhead?”
I decided not to rise to the bait. I decided to play it cool. She is, after all, a mere pup. I am much more mature than she is. Instead, I decided to play the absolute gentleman. I even greeted her in my newly learned, correct French – not the rude French I was taught by those naughty bitches in the kennels that time.
I said “Bonzhoor Chloe, sa va? Zherr swee conton voo ruvwoirr,” which I think means – ‘Hello, how are you? I’m happy to see you again’ (which was a big lie) I know it’s not exactly how French folk speak but it’s hard learning French off a bilingual dog with issues – one day I’ll tell you a bit more about Claude the fat yellow Labrador.
She said “Fook yous. Yous onglish.”
“Now look here,” I said rather self righteously, “I’m trying to hold out an olive branch, I’m trying to be polite and what’s more I’m trying to speak French. What more can I do?”
“Yous call that French?” she said with a voice laden with venom. “You speak lerr fransay like a Spanish cow,” then she simpered in mum’s direction and mum started fawning all over her as usual.
The morning went on like that. I would say something, Chloe would strike me down with her vicious tongue. No matter how hard I tried, I remained her target. I could not avoid the sniper’s bullet. It was a miserable morning.
And then my prayers were answered. I’m a great believer in Karma.
When it came to the trip in the flying bus, Stephanie didn’t want to leave Chloe with me in mum’s car THANK YOU GOD REX so it was decided that Chloe would go with them in Uncle Hugh’s flying bus. I’ll never forget the hugely smug look on Chloe’s face as she went off with everyone whilst I watched through the back window of mum’s car.
Life is fun sometimes isn’t it? Guess what? Chloe didn’t like flying. No, actually that’s an understatement. CHLOE DETESTED FLYING, HAD A HUGE PANIC ATTACK AND POOPED ALL OVER UNCLE HUGH’S PRECIOUS FLYING BUS.
The shivering, sweating, wild-eyed, terrified babbling creature that returned to terra-firma was quietly but firmly transported home by a rather embarrassed Stephanie.
Mum was mortified. Uncle Hugh was in a dark mood. “Well it doesn’t bother Henry,” he said. “I don’t get it. Henry doesn’t give a damn.”
“Not all dogs are like Henry,” she said. “We keep forgetting. He likes watching firework displays for goodness’ sake. How abnormal is that for a dog? When he was a pup, he slept all the way through a fighter jet display and didn’t even wake up when that Harrier Jump Jet landed next to us. Remember? I think they broke the mould when he was born.”
Yes, I think so too:)
I also think that may be the last I see of Chloe, at least for a LONG time.
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