MY NAME IS CHARLEY
AN ADVENTUROUS WELSH TERRIER
by
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Even when we do not go with Car, sometimes I have to stay at home all by myself, although I can hear that Bill is in our outside territory. I would love to join him, but it is not allowed.
Once the door to go outside was not closed properly and I was able to go and take a look. I heard Bill somewhere in the outside territory but I did not join him, since I wanted to go and have a look on the street all by myself. I ran towards the street and I saw Rascal passing by with his manperson. Rascal also is a dog but I would not know his type. He has been put together with several types in him. Rascal was on his leash and of course, I was all by myself. Well, as you can imagine I made this known to him with some barking. I don’t like Rascal, because he always barks and growls. I have tried that as well and fortunately I am quite good at it of late.
Right when I wanted to pursue him, Bill came running towards me. He called me loudly and his voice was quite angry. He seized me by the scruff of my neck and Rascal has seen it. I was very upset and I felt quite ashamed.
Bill carried me home and dropped me in my territory. I did not get a cookie.
So, let us wait again to see what is going to happen the rest of the day.
Somewhere halfway through the day, we are going to the woods. That’s always the longest outing. We make a long walk and go a long distance and today we are going to the grass. There are many big animals walking on the grass. Not dogs and they make a very different noise. They don’t bark or growl. They look at me but they don’t come near me. They don’t even move. Unbelievable, but they eat grass. I like to try that. It does have a strange taste. My own food is much better…
…I now know that Sit means that I have to sit (not always nice in the
wet grass). Down means to lie down completely. Stay is to behave like a fool
and stay where you are when your manperson walks away. Really an absolutely
stupid thing to do.
One of the first few words was watsjfi, but I know better now and it is just the same as: Watch me. And that means looking at Bill and wait until the next word comes. Sometimes the word is Free. That is great fun, because it means that I can go and run wherever I like to run to and do as I please. It is most of the time only for a very short moment, because the next word is: Come. When I hear that word it means that I have to go to Bill. There are moments that I have no great wish to obey and that means that he has to say the come word a couple of times.
Fortunately he is never is really angry. I suppose he thinks that I still have not really understood.
I shall never forget that I had to walk in a long dark bag. It did not seem so great in the beginning, but I am never one to give up easily, so yoho into the bag and no nonsense.
Okay this was a very long bag and yes at the end of the bag Bill was waiting for me with, as you may guess, a cookie.
Yes, it really is quite easy, if you do what Bill says, there are many cookies.
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About the Book
We still were in the happy possession of two Siamese cats, one of which, Byou, of an advanced age, and it would have been unwise to spoil her last few years with the presence of a lively puppy.
In May 1998, however, we had to take our leave from Byou as well and at that moment our house became a very quiet place. Besides that, her pal Joy was terribly sad and cried the whole day.
We were getting used to our easy life. No more compulsory outings in the rain. No hurrying home to be in time for the dog’s outing. Nevertheless we decided that the time had come to have another dog, although at the same time we thought that it would be better not having such a big one anymore, but a smaller breed would do as well. The type, as I still call it, of a carry along dog.
Preferably a breed that is not subject to over breeding (and regretfully there is a lot of over breeding and mismanagement in this respect). Beagle, Kooiker dog and some other breeds were thoroughly scrutinized and after careful consideration, the choice was made for a French bulldog, notwithstanding the long waiting lists.
Although my sister Karen cried that she could not understand what made us choose for this type of dog with the decided look of having walked with his snout into a brick wall, we remained firm in our belief that the French Bulldog would be our best choice.
A Sunday visit to Marjolyn (yes another one) and Dick Langwerden, to finally see their redecorated and partially rebuilt farmhouse, provided an agreeable surprise. A Welsh terrier, called Tara, warmly welcomed us and when we learnt in the course of our conversation with Tara’s bosses that Tara was in the family way, we were immediately sold to the idea of a Welsh.
Quite elated we drove back home. A couple of days later, however, we were bitterly disappointed to learn that Tara was not pregnant at all. Our nice plans were really double-crossed.
In the mean time we were absolutely and totally focused on a Welsh terrier so that we (read: Bill) made an enormous amount of phone calls to breeders. No Welsh available. Not for many weeks at least.
There was just one five months old puppy available from a breeder in the south of the country. He originally had wanted to keep the pup for himself, but due to special family circumstances the pup had to be given away.
There was one little snake in the grass: a holiday trip that could not be cancelled at such a short notice. A quick phone call to Karen and Hans was enough and the pup was very welcome during our holidays.
Full of expectation we drove southwards… and Charley himself tells the rest of the story.
About the Author
In the pursuit of quite another career (Export manager for some international companies and traveling all over the world) writing was restricted to business related items for a long time.
Her later involvement in local politics and the need to prepare clear and people oriented presentations, made writing a daily activity again.
Love for animals and this special dog called Charley, plus spare time spent at airports waiting for yet another flight to catch, are the cause of the creation of a series of short stories.
Charley himself, of course is the real author of the book.