Secret Diary of Satchmo Thorn - episode 1

March 17, 2013

 

 

 

So many people have asked me if Satchmo was going to start a diary now that the lovely Maxie won't be writing his any more. For quite a while I said I didn't think so, as I didn't see Satchmo as the same kind of contemplative philosopher as Max. However, I decided to give him a go on Crufts day, so I showed him how to use an iPad (I think only Max could use a pencil without an opposable thumb) and here's the first result.


 

Sunday 10 March 2013

Woke up this morning and thought, ‘My Mum loves me.’ Then I thought, ‘I wonder if we’ll go for a really nice walk today.’ Then I remembered that Mum trimmed my whiskers and filed my nails yesterday and I felt a bit suspicious. Then I thought, ‘Hang on a sec, it’s still dark o’clock, what am I doing awake and thinking thoughts?’ So I went back to sleep. 

 

It didn’t seem like 5 mins later when Mum came in and woke us up. It was still dark. What’s all that about? Still, she gave us our brekkie and tummy said shut up and be grateful. So I did.

 

Then what do you think she did, but wash me? At dark o’clock in the morning! What’s the world coming to? Then I was really, really suspicious, I can tell you. Anyway, then Ali and Iain arrived and so did Natasha, so I thought, ‘Brill, I’ll be going for a walk in the dark with Kiki and Pippi.’ But they put me in Iain’s car – no sign of the fillies – and we drove for ages. This was looking more and more like a day at one of those dog show things.

 

And it was, but much bigger and noisier. I got the chance to sniff and pee about 20 times on the way from the car. Brill. I’ve developed this technique of making my bum look as though I want a poo and then I get to spend far more time sniffing around where all the fillies have been. (Snigger.)

 

Mum’s got this new regime at shows that makes Saddam Hussein look like a lollipop lady. Absolutely no liver cake unless I’m standing nicely. Well, two can play at that game. I stood like a rock while we were practising and then she tried to make me step forward. Well, I’m not falling for that one. Trick questions and all that. I stayed put and she had to move my back legs instead.

 

We did a bit of practice and I was just getting a taste for the liver cake when she put me on the bloody bench and shut me in. It’s not on for a dog of my personal stature you know. I don’t do sitting and standing still anyway. So I lay down and made my displeasure known by puffing my cheeks out very ostentatiously. Then I spoilt the whole effect by falling asleep.

 

Anyway, a bit later, Mum got me off the bench and ran about with me a bit and then we were in the ring. I love being with lots of dobies. Bit disappointed to find they were all blokes though. The chap I think they call the judge (always makes me feel as though I'm being accused of something) was a rather smart chap in a suit who stood and looked at me for ages. I could only see him out of the corner of my eye ‘cos I was focused on the liver cake – blink and you miss a bit. However, he came back later and looked very admiring as I ran round the ring with Mum. Then he called us out and made us stand at the front of the line. I don't really know what that means, but it's usually good for plenty of liver cake and chin chuckles, so it's pretty good by me. Mum was clearly extremely pleased with me. Seemed much like any other dog show to me except more dobie boys and a bigger ring, but lots of people made a fuss of me and I can stand any amount of that, so I just made sure my chin was on their hands at all times and got no end of chin chuckles. 

 

Then we had to go back in with the other winners. I know when that happens it means I’ve been a VERY good boy and will probably get lots of attention and treats, so I did my best. That nice man pointed at us again and I think someone must have scored a goal at the same time ‘cos there was a lot of shouting and yelling. Everyone was hugging and kissing Mum, although I could have sworn it was me that scored the goal … I mean won the competition. That Jay lady was screaming and jumping up and down too. Someone must have given her a really, really big piece of liver cake; either that, or it was her team that scored the goal [well, yes, it was in a way, Mo-mo. Ed]. It got even better after that as loads of people wanted to talk to me and take photos and make a big fussy fuss of yours truly, so I lapped it up for ages and then, blow me, they put me back on my bench again. I thought, ‘This is no way to treat a special boy like zzzzzz’.

 

Hours and hours later, when I thought they’d all forgotten me, Mum got me off the bench again and I thought, ‘Oh good, we’re going home, and we’ll be back in time for a walk.’ But no, it was back in the ring AGAIN and another nice man had a look at me and made me run around for a while. Always good to stretch your legs after being on the bench, eh? Both the chaps had a conflab and then pointed at yours truly yet again. By gum, I thought, I really am a special boy, aren’t I? [Yes you are, sweetheart. Ed]

 

There was loads more fussing to be lapped up and I was pretty damn tired by then; for once I was actually pleased to go back on my bench for a snooze. However, it was not to be. There was some kind of disembodied voice saying something about going to the collecting ring and all of a sudden we were off, racing from hall 5 to hall 4 to hall 3 to hall 2 with Natasha in tow and Iain and Ali struggling behind with all the guff. Slight hiccup in hall 2 as all the adrenalin and running about, combined with being indoors for 8 hours, had the inevitable effect and resulted in a large steaming pile on the floor. Mum did the sensible thing and dashed on, leaving Natasha to clear it up. I must say, it makes me snigger to think of it even now. I was always a showstopper you know. Ha ha ha. You should have seen their faces.

 

Anyway, you’ve seen the rest on TV where, if I say it myself, I looked a bit dashing. That anxious run through the halls had woken me up and I didn’t really want to do all that standing around so I decided to make best use of all the opportunities for a good fast run round the arena (good for a laugh watching Mum try to keep up as well) and then limber up in between by jumping up and down a lot.

 

Well, I suppose it must all have meant something to someone. It was a baffling load of non sequiturs to me (ha, you didn’t think I knew words like that, did you?), but it’s been good for a lot of fussing and plenty of treats since then, so who am I to complain?

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