Coming Home to Story

Hello, Ted here.

Actually, Ted is an alias. I am really Captain Midnight, super-dog.

Finally, his back is turned. He’s left the laptop turned on and now it’s my turn to talk. He spends a long time deciding what to say and trying to be clever. I just write the plain truth.

“We’ll go to France,” he said. “The food is great.”

He drinks a lot of red stuff from bottles and cooks bits of meat on the barbecue. His food is great. What do I get? Dog biscuits. French dog biscuits are just as appetizing as British dog biscuits. I go on hunger strike sometimes until he puts a bit of meat or fish on them.

Then there’s camping! Whose brilliant idea was that? As soon as I get the smells sorted out, spray a bit of urine, and mark the territory, we’re off somewhere else in the kennel (or camper van as he calls it). When we do get somewhere else I spend most of the day dossing around and barking at French people until he eventually decides he’s tired of sitting on his backside “being a writer” and wants to go for a walk.

He usually finds somewhere nice for his walk, I’ll give him that: some woods, a river, or a bit of seaside. I go with him to humour him and I always make a point of showing how “grateful” I am by pulling him along on the lead. He doesn’t seem to like being on the lead much.

Last night he was moping around, feeling sorry for himself again. There was one of those full moon things and I had a brilliant idea! In the middle of the night, I clipped him to the lead and dragged him to the beach. There was no-one else there, just him and me. I thought he might like a good run around, so I unclipped him and waited. He just stood there.

I ran around like crazy, showing him what to do. I tried everything: I ate seaweed; ran into the sea; dug holes in the sand; and barked at the moon. It was huge fun. He still didn’t catch on. Leader of the pack? I don’t think so.

Then there’s that other thing he does quite often. That thing when he makes a lot of noise and water comes out of his eyes. I jump up on his lap and lick his face when he does that. He puts his arms around me and makes even more noise. It usually doesn’t last very long and I’m still trying to work out exactly what it means. He seems to like me being there when it happens.

He says it’s because he feels lonely, so every night I let him share my bed in the kennel. I know they say that dogs should keep their humans at a distance, but I think that’s a bit old fashioned. Fortunately, we just have to be “good enough” for our humans to develop self-confidence and a secure sense of attachment. My chap’s coming on quite well, all things considered.

That’s all for now super-dog fans.

If you’re in trouble, just whistle.

Captain Midnight