Hello. My name is Morgan and I am an addict. It started off quite innocently. And then, before I knew it, I was hooked. Nothing was the same. Everything was grey and bland without my daily fix. I blame my human. But in all fairness, he probably didn’t know where this would end up. Humans say hindsight is a wonderful thing. It’s something dogs take for granted. I think it means something entirely different to humans.
I digress. It was supposed to cure a problem. Not cause one. “They’ll help with your wind”, he said. “Good boy. Sit. Wait. Good boy Morgan.”, he said as he unfurled his fingers, revealing something so unassuming. So innocent. So deliciously tasty. So drool inducing. A treat above all other treats. Charcoal bones. Yup. My name is Morgan and I’m addicted to charcoal bones. Can’t get enough of ’em. The biggest mistake was slipping a few in my bowl along with my kibble. I guess he thought it’d be a good idea to mix them together before I ate. Big mistake. I eat them first. He took to hiding them at the bottom of the bowl. This necessitates shovelling the kibble out of the bowl and across the kitchen floor with gay abandon.
My human forgot to put them in my bowl this morning. One sniff was all it took to reveal that my first fix of the day wasn’t nestled under a layer of kibble. Time to scout the garden just in case he’d hidden a few in the grass. Nope. I saught refuge in my bed. I didn’t have to wait too long before he remembered. I rushed to my bowl. Yes. Yes. Yes! I shovelled the kibble aside and dug deep. My nose and tongue worked in unison like a, erm, nose and tongue. It didn’t take long before I’d found and devoured every single fragment. And left the kibble. On the floor mostly.
I’m now laying on my blanket in the lounge. Pretending to sleep. He’s muttering something about, “eating the bloody stuff before we go for a walk.” It’s a waiting game. A battle of wills. I think I know who’s going to win. My name is Morgan. I am a good boy.
My human’s twisted his knee. He’s blaming me. It’s not my fault that I can’t see him for half the time. He should look where I’m walking. And be continually prepared for the unexpected. I wonder if my other human will take him to see the vet. I’m sure he needs his temperature taking.
My other human took me for my morning walk today. I quite like her. We sing songs. Well, she sings and I hum the tune. She also gives me treats. All I have to do is look at her when she says my name, sit and be very, very still. My name is Morgan. I am a good boy.
My name is Morgan. I am a good boy. I quite enjoy going to the park in the morning. There’s so much to see and sniff. I’ve tried on several occasions to make friends with the ducks but they don’t seem to want to reciprocate. I’ve also met a swan called Derek. He is, by all accounts, “a greedy bastard.” I prefer to think he has a healthy appetite. Talking about appetite, mine is slowly improving. My tummy is less upset and I’m able to eat more without embarrassing myself.
The park is generally full of other dogs. I hate to admit, that despite my ruggedly handsome good looks, I’m rather shy around the ladies. This isn’t helped by my human telling their humans this each time I meet someone new. I generally turn a blind eye to this and wait for a treat. I am a good boy.
I haven’t made friends with any other boy dogs. Each time any come near I’m quickly steered away, given treats and told how good I am. I suspect my human is trying to distract my attention. It works. Sometimes.
Some dogs are clearly stupid. They repeatedly run after and fetch unwanted tennis balls. This seems fairly pointless. The humans wouldn’t have thrown them away if they wanted them back. I’m much more relaxed. If my human throws something, he can go and fetch it himself.
Being permanently on a lead whilst we’re out and about does present some limitations as to what games can be played. My favourite by far is “I Spy with Captain Morgan’s Eye.” My human spies something and I have to guess what it is. The best part is I get a treat when I get it right. It sometimes takes me a few tries but I usually get the answer right at the end. Some of the humans that walk past us when we’re playing give us the funniest of looks.
I’m learning new things all the time. The other day a lady human ran past pushing something. “Meals on Wheels” apparently. It looked more like a small human to me. She probably didn’t want it to get cold.
I went to see the vet today. She wanted to take my temperature. She asked my humans to hold the dangerous end whilst she did her business. Little did she know that they chose the safe end. The end that she ended up with is currently far more dangerous than my cheeky chops.
I went to the park this evening. I saw some ducks. I don’t completely understand ducks. So I left them alone. I saw some other dogs. We sometimes disagree with each other. I stood my ground. They stood theirs. We moved on. On the way home I met a cat. We ignored each other.
When I got home I watched the news on the TV. Humans. No wonder they need us to help them through life.
My name is Morgan. I am a good boy.
My name is Morgan. I am a good boy. Even when I have the capacity to fill the lounge with a smell so obnoxious, toe-curling and eye-watering that it continually wakes me from my slumber and reduces my humans to tears. I will definitely add this to my repertoire of tricks.
I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt I’d been on a long car journey.
I ended up in a house. With a garden. And a bed. And belly rubs.
And then I woke up.
And I was still there. In the house. With a Garden. And a bed. Perhaps it wasn’t a dream.
I’ve spent the day chillaxing. Most of my day has been spent on a blanket in the living room. Being fussed and drifting off to dream the same dream.
Perhaps this is a dream. A dream come true.
Belly rubs. Belly. Rubs. Beh. Lee. Rubz. Just there. All over my belly. Oh, yes. Beh. Lee… Rubz.