T’WASN’T MY FAULT (The devil made me do it.)

I am Loki, a cute, curly brown haired labradoddle five months old. I live with two little girls who, when they go away on holidays, leave me in the care of their grandparents. Grandma spoils me with lots of love and cuddles. She’s a bit of a push over but Grandpa is another kettle of fish. He is a grumpy dour creature, lacking any sense of humour or patience when it comes to dogs. Well, to be completely truthful, with anything at all really. He loses his temper over nothing at all, calling me names and humiliating me. Me – I’m a fun loving, intelligent, calm sort of dog. I’m never intentionally naughty or mischievous, as my name might imply, and I try to be helpful at all times. For example, I clean the kitchen floor when ever Grandma is cooking. However, when Grandpa is around somehow or other, trouble is always on the simmer until it boils and bubbles over.

The other day, I was in the back yard just sniffing. Grandpa was hanging out the washing. I just love a good sniff, so pleasurable. My sniffing led me to a hole in the fence and I happened to find myself outside wandering in the bush. Was it my fault that there was a hole in the fence? The smells and trails are exhilarating. I could smell the scents of the Eastern Water Dragon that wanders around the area, the possums that scuttle around at night, the magpies that tease me, the skinny black and white dog that lives down the road and the sneaky cat from next door. They are so intoxicating. When he finally missed me, he yelled, “Come back here, you ugly mutt”. Grandpa just doesn’t understand the joys of sniffing so I ran further into the bush. As he chased me with a stream of tongue-lashing, I thought ‘This is fun, he wants to play chasies – he has turned my escape into a game.’ I darted here and there while Grandpa darted there and here. I gave him the look that said ‘You can’t catch me’. I was having a great time when the old grump soon tired of the game. After calling me “a stupid mongrel”, he walked inside. ‘What a spoilt sport!’ I thought as I followed him. His face was puce coloured as he told granny about my little escapade. She laughed much to grandpa’s chagrin but all I can say is ‘t’wasn’t my fault, the devil made me do it.’

I really do want to be his friend but he is a hard man to win over. I try to be nice to him by licking his hand but all he can say is “get away you disgusting creature”. Grandpa reckons I smell like a pole cat and harbour fleas but it is a dog’s right to roll in smelly places and scratch fleas if he feels like it, don’t you agree? He has no sense of democracy that old bloke. The other day he was reading in his favourite chair on the back verandah when I decided to settle down for a snooze on his feet. “Good dog.” he said. As I was about to lie down, I noticed that he was wearing new brown suede shoes with the longest laces that I have ever seen. Now I have a passion for chewing laces and those laces were irresistible. I had to have a chew. I chewed those laces until they were shapeless, distorted by teeth marks and covered in saliva. What bliss! You have no idea of the feelings one experiences with a good chew. Contentment and relaxation are just a few until –well, you know what happened next. All hell broke loose. I tried to look innocent as I gazed into his eyes. ‘T’wasn’t my fault, the devil made me do it’.

I’m a very brave and protective kind of dog. You won’t find magpies lurking in the back yard, or the sneaky cat from next door sunbaking by the pool or even the Eastern Water Dragon poking his nose where it is not wanted. Yes, I am very much the guard dog, to be honest. I bark my loudest and longest whenever an intruder calls. I hope Grandpa has taken note, that since I’ve been living with him that there are no lions or tigers or even elephants prowling around his territory. Yes, I certainly earn my board and keep. Why, only the other day, someone rang the doorbell which set off a chain reaction. Poor old grandpa is not so quick to answer the door these days and I got to the door first - jumping up and down almost knocking him over. A few angry words were spoken as I crazily barked. “Shut up, you stupid fleabag and get out of the way”. Well, I won’t stand for that sort of language in front of strangers so I kept barking. He yells, no, screams at me as he lunges towards me but I’m too quick for him. As soon as the door is open, I scoot outside. Well, the fun was on again and it was left to Gran to bring me back inside. How was I to know that they were expecting visitors? So, once inside to receive a pat on the head from the visitors, I sit by grandpa’s chair. The visitors praise my angelic looks as I smugly think, ‘t’was’t my fault, the devil made me do it’.

I really love my early morning walks with Grandpa. The smells, especially if they are stinky, the people we meet, the other dogs out for walks, really excite me. Nevertheless, there is a certain ritual that goes on in the house as we prepare for our walk. I get very excited at the thought of a walk and dart around the house. After a lot of huffing and puffing, and a few chosen words, Grandpa finally catches me. I lick his face as he gruffly says “Cut that out, you mad monster”. Now, I ask you, how hard is it to put a harness on a dog, especially one as placid as I? One would think that a bloke, who has lived as long as he, would have no trouble at all. He treats the harness like a jigsaw puzzle. This bit goes here. No this bit goes there. He tries it on back to front then upside down. Well, a smart youngster like me just cannot tolerate his clumsiness or ineptness. When he finally get my right front leg into the harness, I bide my time to quickly pull it out just as he is trying to do up the buckle. This is great fun for me. “You do it, Gran, I can’t be bothered with this silly mutt”. After several goes, she finally gets it right and I’m all set to go. Grandpa takes the lead and we head for the road. I like to bite the lead to pull him along as we walk, which sort of annoys him. “Cut that out”, he growls. Well, I will sniff as we walk. “No sniffing”, he shouts. A dog can’t do anything walking with him. Well, I feel like a change of sides. One side can get a bit boring so I neatly sidestep in front of him. He stumbles and nearly falls as he uncouthly calls me “Stupid idiot”. Now I happen to know that those two words are banned in our family so I just ignore him and side step to the other side hoping for the same intended result. Yes he stumbled. I look shamelessly towards him and think ‘T’was’t my fault, the devil made me do it’.

I had been exceptionally good these past few days before going home. Only a few misdemeanours eventuated but they were all Grandpa’s fault not mine. You see, he likes to leave his socks by the side of his bed, which is an open invitation to an inquisitive dog to pick one up and to take it out to the kitchen for a good chew. Well, you can guess who got into trouble. And, last Monday, after pouring over the post mortems of his bridge results, he left the papers on the floor in the lounge room and wondered why I tore them into a thousand pieces. He always goes into a red faced rant of what he will do to me. Now I have to tell you about my final downfall from grace. The last day of my stay had arrived and all was peaceful and quiet. I was looking forward to going home to wreak havoc with my two little girls. Just the thought of the fun we three would have, put an idea into my head. Why had I not thought of it before? I fancied a swing with those lace curtains in the dining room. I sniffed at them, a bit dusty but that didn’t matter. I sunk my teeth into the lacy holes of the scalloped hem and began to swing and pull. It was the best game ever. I was egged on by the sounds of the curtains ripping and tearing as I swung from side to side. What great fun until, yes, you guessed it Grandpa came sneaking out of the bedroom. His eyes were popping out of his head, he was blue in the face with rage and unlike him he could hardly get a word out. I knew the outcome would not be good for me. Like a brave soldier, I weathered my punishment as he ordered me to bed in the laundry. As I was lying in the darkened room feeling rather sad and sorry, I consoled myself with the thought ‘twasn’t my fault, the devil made me do it’.