Secret diary of Maximilian Thorn aged 15 1/4

November 5, 2012

 

 

 

Woke up this morning and thought – I love my Mum, but I love her more when she comes downstairs at 6.15. It was nearly 7 this morning and an elder statesman like me, I’d been lying awake for ages thinking of weighty matters and – well – to be blunt I was desperate for a crap. When she eventually came down, I somehow didn’t really feel like getting up. You know, the spirit was willing, but I suspected the back legs were having none of it, so I stayed where I was. However, Mum is no respecter of my dignity and she grabbed me by the buttocks (if only that delightful minx Nina would do that) and heaved me upright. Think I must have had a bit too much of the juice last night ‘cos I was wavering about something shocking. I managed to get to the back door though and only bounced off two kitchen cupboards on the way there.

 

 

Once outside things seemed to kick into place and I had a wander round and did all the things we boy dogs do first thing in the morning. Shame Nina never needs to come out first thing, it’s always much more motivating when there’s some girl pee for the brat and me to vie over. Not that he has any idea what it’s all really about. Swaggers all over the place, but he’s never had his leg over and yours truly has. So there. Huh!

 

Back indoors and ages till breakfast so I thought I’d better reinforce my dominance over the brat with a bit of grooming. I used to do it standing up and pin him against the kitchen cupboards to groom his neck, but I find that quite hard work these days, so I lie down and he has to lie flat on the floor so I can groom his chest. We elder statesmen need to keep the young turks in their place, you know, and it gives me a real sense of power.

 

It was salmon and rice again for breakfast when it eventually came. Just can’t get the staff these days. I’ve got a bit of a penchant for salmon and rice lately, which is just as well as it seems to be what I get every meal now. 

 

Back out in the garden after breakfast and this time the delightful Nina is out here, so it’s much more enjoyable. Bit of a snooze afterwards and then, hurray, Mum got her wellies and jacket on. The brat jumps up and down and Nina barks and spins in circles whenever she’s getting ready to go out, but I have to use all my efforts to bark constantly without either falling over or having an accident. Then we’re out of the door and legging it to the gate into The Field. The brat and the minx are off in one direction, but yours truly knows we’re really going the other way. Economy of effort, you know, so I let them dash about madly while Mum, poor old girl, and I head off in the proper direction. The Field is really wet and slippery these days. I find it alright on the way out as it’s level or downhill, but the old legs struggle a bit coming back uphill in the mud. I sat down with a plop at one point and Mum was headed away so I had to have a good moan before she came back. I wasn’t feeling very energetic so, although I could quite easily have walked up the hill on my own, I let her use that red scarf as a sling. It takes a bit of the weight off my old legs and, well, the wool tickles my willy in a rather enjoyable way. Needless to say, this made the walking easier so I wanted to stop and eat some rabbit droppings for a while and then thought I’d head out into the field and see what was around. Mum was a spoilsport as usual and tried to get me back on the path. I tried to pretend I couldn’t hear her (she thinks I’m deaf, but I can still tell a hawk from a handsaw), but she wasn’t falling for it and grabbed my collar with her spare hand to steer me back on the path. It was annoying but also bloody funny. Out of the corner of my eye I could see what she looked like, bent over and walking crab-like up the hill with one hand holding the sling and the other guiding my collar. Laugh, I nearly … oh.

 

Back at home now and snoozing by the Aga, dreaming of past victories.

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