Granville's Story

 CHAPTER 1: GENESIS

 This is a story of my life: on the whole, not a bad one - so far! There have been a few shaky moments though, none more so than at the very start. Firstly, let me introduce myself: my name is Granville. Yes, I know, not too inspiring a name and one that has led to a certain degree of merriment at my expense over the years. It appears that my master and mistress had a liking for a certain television programme in which a poor soul was so named. If I've heard "GGGranville, fetch your cloth" once during my life I've heard it a million times! Anyway this is me when I was about 3 months old.........

My official date of birth is 12th August 1994: of course that might not be entirely accurate, but give or take it's about right. I don't remember much about the actual event, but my initial memories were of myself and my brother being very hot most of the time and often very lonely and frightened as our mother had to go foraging for food. Our home during my early days was in a tumble-down building, mostly exposed to the blistering heat of a middle eastern summer. Poor mum did her best, but she was not too well herself and found it difficult to give us enough to eat. My brother was a handsome dog. As we got a little older, he became much more adventurous than me. I believe he thought that if he went out of our refuge he would be able to find someone who thought he was so cute that they would look after him. I, on the other hand, was not such a charmer. I caught a reflection of myself one day and saw a sandy-coloured puppy with bandy legs, sticky out ribs, a tail like a pipe cleaner, odd ears and wonky eyes. The eyes have always been a bit of a problem, but more about that later!

As time went by, mum disappeared for longer and longer periods. These were desperate days and my brother and I were forced to venture out to find food and water. One day, mum just didn't come back at all. I often wonder what happened to her: was she run over or shot, did she just starve? I hope she didn't suffer too much.

So, we had to grow up quite quickly - difficult when you are only 3 months old! As I said, my brother (let's call him Petey) ventured further than me and he tried batting his lovely eyelashes at everyone he saw, hoping against hope that he would find us a good home. No good me trying to bat my eyelashes at anyone - the rotten things grew the wrong way, straight into my eyes, which made them sore and runny all the time. One afternoon we had returned, tired and hungry, to our little house. It was hot, so a siesta was in order - perhaps we would be able to find some food in the evening. Our tummies were rumbling but we had just curled up together when we heard the sound of children crashing about nearby. Children were generally something to be avoided as they were often cruel, throwing stones, hitting us with sticks and kicking out at us. We tried to sink further into the shadows and resolved to be as still as statues so they couldn't find us. But they did! A particularly nasty child gave an exultant shout as he lunged for us - Petey tried to defend us, but the child grabbed him by his tail. Other children rushed in and grabbed me, pulling my ears and making me cry out.

There was nothing we could do to get free and we were so scared. We couldn't imagine what these children would do to us, we only knew that it wouldn't be anything good. I'm ashamed to say that I was so scared I wet myself - that only led to me being hit again. I couldn't see Petey, but I could hear him crying. After that I only recall pain and fear - and a sensation of entering a building and being carried upwards. Then we were out in the sun again and I realised we were on the roof of a building. We seemed to be getting closer and closer to the edge and then suddenly I was aware of nothing beneath me - I was being held over the edge of the roof. Oh no - I was going to be dropped to the ground several stories below. I could see Petey out of the corner of my not very good eye, and the same fate was going to befall him. I cried out (I can't say I barked, as I hadn't had enough time on earth to develop a bark) and struggled and wept and thought about my three months of existence - it's true that your life flashes before you at such moments. Was it really all going to end here?

Anyway, the children were tormenting us, prolonging the moment of execution, but leaving us in no doubt that we were about to be airborne. I heard shouting in the distance, but to be perfectly honest I was too concerned with my own predicament to take much notice. Then I heard footsteps behind me and more shouting. Oh heavens, more children: how much worse could things get! But it seems that the children who had suddenly appeared were to become our saviours. More shouts, followed by some thumps and the sound of children crying and running away down the stairs, and we were dropped onto the roof. I don't know about Petey, but I curled up into the tiniest ball I could manage to try to ward off the expected kicks. But they didn't materialize. Instead the second batch of children picked us up gently and cradled us, stroking us and holding our trembling bodies tightly so we would feel secure. This feeling was so strange, not experienced before and in that way still a little frightening. We still didn't know what was going to happen, but after the last few minutes it was as though nothing mattered anymore. Our fate was in the hands of these children and there was a certain resignation to this: good or bad, there was nothing we could do to change what the future held for us. We had been good puppies (or so we thought), perhaps we had been granted a reprieve and a chance of happiness. Only time would tell!

CHAPTER 2: REPRIEVE

To be honest, I don't remember much of the events that followed. We were carried for what seemed like ages, then entered a house - not one like our house had been, with rubbish and bricks on the floor and no roof, but a proper house that was blissfully cool. We were given something to eat, real food so nice that I could have carried on eating until I burst, and I was aware of grown-ups standing over us and talking quietly. Although I wanted to carry on eating, I just had to sleep and I guess Petey felt the same because we curled up and slept, not knowing whether we would be safe or not, but just not having the energy or the will to do anything about it. When we finally woke it was dark and we both had a feeling of great panic: where were we, what would happen to us? Petey was probably a great deal cleverer than me, and when the grown-ups appeared he started to act outrageously - rubbing around their legs, trying to get on their laps, even playing with the children. How did he know that this was the right way to behave? I was still too scared of everyone and cowered in the corner of the room, which obviously was the wrong thing to do if you want to impress a human. Anyway, we had some more food and the humans set about doing whatever it is they normally do. Later that day, with Petey still putting on a show, I was taken away to heavens knows where. I managed a hurried goodbye to Petey and wondered if I would ever see him again: in fact, I wondered if I would be taken back to the horrid children who had hurt us so badly. I just didn't know what would happen to me, after all I was, even by my own admission, a pretty ugly puppy with an eye defect! I was put into a tin can that moved and, to be honest, it made me feel so sick that after a while I didn't care where I was going. Eventually the thing that I now know to be a car stopped. I was carried out and taken into another house - again, a proper house. Perhaps I was to avoid the fate of being left on my own, a fate which I surely couldn't survive without the help of my brother. The people who had taken me drove off and I was left with the people who lived in the house. Now what? They hadn't seen me and surely they would be put off by my appearance. As it happens, it was probably my very appearance which seemed to ensure my sudden good fortune: the people who lived in the house apparently had a penchant for the more physically disadvantaged specimens of animal-hood.

 CHAPTER 3: RELOCATION

Well, I really seemed to have fallen on my feet. The humans didn't mind that I was an ugly, scared puppy but set about making me feel secure, loved and the luckiest creature in the world. Of course, they made a few mistakes along the way but I guess that's only natural. I was given a little bed with a lovely soft lining and the humans carried me from room to room in this so I wouldn't be left alone. I later saw photos of me in this bed and it turned out to be a green washing-up bowl: how undignified can one get? However, at the time it was heaven. Food was plentiful and I started to put on weight, so that my sticky-out ribs became less pronounced.

I should tell you about my carers. My master and mistress went out early every morning to something called work, but when they came home they played with me and started to teach me how to behave in the house. I believe I did a couple of things wrong, although I really still don't see what was so bad about chewing through a tasty, rubbery thing that went into the back of something called a 'television'. My mistress later told me that a bowl of disinfectant was always kept ready as I had an early habit of not making it to a place called 'the garden' in time. The garden was lovely, with lots of soft soil with pretty coloured things growing in it. I thought that digging these up was the best game in the world, but it seems I got that wrong too! There was also a granny in residence. This was a good thing, as she didn't have to go to work and so was there with me all day.

However, as always there had to be a downside to my happiness. This was in the shape of two very strange looking dogs, which happened to be called cats. The older of the two was what I now know to be called tabby and white. His name was Zipser (don't ask!) and in general he was a good old boy. He didn't seem to want to play too much and spent most of the day on granny's lap. I know that first thing every morning the mistress went out into the garden and called for him to come in and she wasn't happy until he had put in an appearance. One morning in particular he came in but had had what was called 'an accident'. The mistress let out a yell and went into overdrive: Zipser was bundled into his mobile home, into the car and whisked off to a place called 'vet'. I hadn't a clue what 'vet' was, but I did later find out on my own account: a place to be avoided on the whole! He came back later with his teeth wired together and I was sorry to see that he wasn't able to enjoy the good food that was normally on the menu. In fact he was on an all liquid diet: yuk, I thought, rather him than me! Anyway, after another visit to 'vet' a week or so later he seemed to be much better, although I overheard him being sternly told that he wasn't to go outside at night anymore.

The other cat turned out to be a very different proposition. This beast was a tiny black, white and ginger bundle of malevolence, about a year older than myself. I figured that as we were both so young we could play together. Being the biggest, I figured it was up to me to make the first move towards cementing our alliance. That resulted in my first smack on the nose: the first in a very long line of smacks, not only on the nose, but on just about every other part of my body! Boy, was this cat mean! And still is actually: she continues to be my nemesis although sometimes I get the better of her nowadays, owing to my size. I learned that her name was Sumo (yes, the humans had done it again: not apparently named after the rather large oriental gentlemen I have since seen on TV, but after the great Australian all-rounder Mervyn Hughes who, at the time of the cat's acquisition, could be seen thundering down the wicket to a quaking English batsman accompanied by chants from the crowd of 'Sumo'). I told you my humans were a little weird, didn't I?

And then something strange started to happen: boxes appeared and tables and chairs disappeared. My world fell apart. My humans were leaving, now what would happen to me? My thoughts turned to Petey, how would I fare if I didn't even have him for company? The axe fell on a day that was called 'weekend', when the humans didn't have to go to work. Big men arrived in a big tin can which someone said was a lorry. The cats and I were shut in a bedroom from which all the furniture had been taken: surely the humans weren't going to leave us like this, my worst nightmare was having to spend the rest of my days being unable to escape from Sumo. The lorry left, the humans left and Sumo kept her beady black eye on me, daring me to move. Zipser was more laid back, though. It seems he had been through this process before and was quietly confident that the humans would return.

He was right. They did come back after a couple of hours - what utter relief! The cats were put in their mobile homes and into the master's car while I was carried into the mistress' car - don't forget, I had found out on my one previous car journey that I didn't like them very much. Whoops, breakfast reappeared - several times - before we eventually stopped outside some big, black gates. Suddenly these opened and we drove through them into a miniature paradise.

 CHAPTER 4: OASIS

The first few hours at this new place weren't that great as we were all shut in a room while the big men put the furniture where the humans told them. But after they had gone and we were let out, well, it appeared that we had moved to a palace. The house was very big but the garden was enormous. I thought that this was a place where, not only could I manage to keep out of Sumo's way, but that I could also dig a few flowers up without the humans ever finding out. The first few days spent exploring were so exciting - also a little frightening on occasion, as sometimes I ventured so far that I felt sure I was lost and would never find my way home for supper. Fortunately, the humans always called me at meal times, so I was able to find my way back eventually.

An added bonus was that the humans had arranged for another human to spend all day in the garden with me and he was great fun. His name was Moussa and he lived in a little house at the bottom of the garden. He very kindly always left his shoes outside the door so I could play with them and I heard later that the mistress had to buy him a new pair every week when she went shopping. It was a matter of great pride to me that I could completely chew up a shoe every two days. Moussa always wore a long skirt and I used to hide in the bushes until he went past and then launch myself at the back of his skirt and hang on with my teeth. We had such fun with this game!

Of course, I wasn't in the garden all the time. When I got tired, or when it got too hot, I could go into the house and have a little snooze on the sofa. I had graduated from the washing-up bowl, thank goodness, and was allowed my own bed. It was really annoying when the humans had visitors who wanted to sit on my bit of the sofa, but I usually managed to get them to move over a bit so I could curl up and get comfortable. Another feature of the house was the lovely shiny floors, great for skidding around on and bumping into things. I got told off a few times for sliding from the front door into an indoor tree with balls and lights on, but that wasn't there all the time.

Just after we had moved, another granny came to visit. It really was heavenly having all these humans around all the time just to keep me company when my folks had to go to work. I found out that the indoor tree was there for an occasion called Christmas and to celebrate this, my humans invited lots of people to come to the house for food and drinks. I just didn't know who to play with first. The only problem was that they all stayed way past my normal bedtime and instead of keeping the noise down so I could get some sleep they just got louder and louder, which seemed a little inconsiderate. The good news was that by this time I had been working on my bark and, even though I say so myself, it had developed into a beauty. So, if you can't beat them - as the saying goes - so I did! I barked myself hoarse, which everyone found very amusing.

I used this principle several times, with not such an appreciative response. Let me explain. I had my own bedroom at night, a little room all to myself. I had a comfortable bed with a big, fluffy blanket to keep me warm in the winter. My humans thoughtfully left the door open so I could get into the garden quickly for the occasional nocturnal call of nature. This worked pretty well on the whole, but sometimes I still had nightmares about my puppy-hood, dreaming that I was back on that roof about to be hurled into oblivion. When I jerked myself awake to escape the terror I was generally so scared that I barked, first from fright and then from joy to find that it had all been a dream and that I was safe. As I've said, my bark had developed from a juvenile yap into a mellow baritone. This barking invariably brought one of the humans down to see what all the commotion was about and, far from being pleased that I was happy to find myself back in my little room, they seemed a little testy to have been dragged out of their own beds. I never understood this actually, I'd have thought they'd be delighted to know that I was OK after a bad dream. Anyway, one night in particular I had dream after dream, interspersed with the same number of barking sessions. Finally, after several visits to ask me to keep the noise down a little, the master got a bit cross. After a few stern words he shut me in my room and stomped off back to bed. Well, I was pretty indignant about this. Also, I was now fully awake and had been looking forward to mooching around the garden and perhaps strolling off to Moussa's house to see if he had left his shoes outside for me.

What on earth was I do until breakfast time? Then I had a brainwave. There were lots of wiry things in my room that looked like they could do with a good chewing. So I did! By the time a human came to liberate me, I had just about finished my chewing - not a single wire had survived. I was so proud, I just sat there and waited for the congratulatory pats that I knew I deserved. Well, I got that one wrong too! The humans went ballistic (that is a term I had previously learned when I had dug up the flowers, demolished the Christmas tree and made a mess on the floor - I realised it meant that I was in the dog house, literally!). If they had explained matters properly in the first place, then perhaps I wouldn't have chewed so vigorously: it really was their fault for keeping me in the dark -again, literally! It appears that these lovely chewy wires were what made the phones work. Some men had to come to fix these, a job that took days, so I was evicted from my room for the duration and banished to the shed. I had to promise to behave a little better from then on, as I was in serious hot water with the management.

Another innovation at around this time was 'walkies'. The humans decided that I occasionally needed a change of scenery so every so often, usually at the weekend, I was put into the back of the car and taken to a place I later learned was the beach. As I still hadn't been cured of my car-sickness, this was often a little fraught: the bowl and disinfectant were always the first things loaded into the car for these excursions. In fairness to the humans, the beach was less than ten minutes away, but I always managed to be sick before we got there - sometimes I even managed to be sick on the way home as well! But to give them credit, they persevered and I grew to love running up and down the sand and I learned that on the beach I could pursue my passion for digging holes without anyone getting upset. The only down-side to this (apart from the car sickness) was that I was expected to immerse myself in some wet stuff. Now, I have always been of the opinion that wet stuff is for drinking, not for getting into. I think this has proved a disappointment for the master who would have liked me to accompany him on his forays into the water. Never mind, he has now figured out that I don't do water: it took him a while, but he got there in the end.

 CHAPTER 5: A PAIN IN THE NECK

As spring approached, things had started to settle into a routine. I was still on my best behaviour on the barking front and still vomiting well during our weekend trips to the beach. As I was putting on weight, Moussa's skirts were suffering the same fate as his shoes (I still enjoyed the 'hanging onto the back of the skirt' game) and these also had to replaced by my mistress at regular intervals. There was also a steady stream of workmen at the house, led by the indomitable Mr Saini, trying to get the air-conditioning units working. These fine chaps also left their shoes outside the house for me to play with, so I was having a wonderful time. Never a dull moment, as they say!

Then, one day, some friends of the humans came to visit, and you'll never guess who they brought with them -Petey! I couldn't believe it, my brother, after all this time. I was so happy to see him and to find out that he too had survived. He had grown from the cutest puppy into a very good-looking dog - the only trouble was that he had also grown insufferable! Well, after all, it was my garden, my house and my humans: but within ten minutes of being there you'd have thought he owned the place, leaping all over the flower beds and furniture - catch me doing that! He also gave me quite a few sharp nips in painful places. Even the cats were pretty fed up with him and they both retired in a complete huff. To be honest, I was glad when it was time for him to go back to his own house. I never actually saw him again, and I later regretted that I hadn't made more allowances for his behaviour. I have thought about him often since, but even though I don't know where he is now, I did take a great deal of comfort in knowing that he had found some humans of his own.

The second 'pain in the neck' presented itself at the end of March. One day, as the master was driving out of the garden, he got out of the car and began rummaging in the bushes outside the gate. I thought this might be some strange human game and was very curious to learn the rules. No such luck! When he straightened up, he was holding &ldots;&ldots;.a puppy! This was my first taste of getting to grips with my humans' inherent ability to collect waifs and strays (I suppose I shouldn't knock this too much as, after all, I was one myself!). The problem has been that all these waifs and strays seem to have had something wrong with them - there I go again, look who's talking! Anyway, this black thing was duly brought into the garden and we were introduced. I am ashamed to say that I wasn't very welcoming, to the point of immediately exerting my supremacy with a sharp nip on the unfortunate creature's rear end. An action, I might say, that was rewarded with a slap on my own rear end! I have to admit being less than impressed with this latest acquisition, and even less so when I learned that we were to share the same sleeping quarters. In hindsight, I behaved like a complete grump! Which was sad, as the poor little thing hero-worshipped me right from the start - which was only to be expected, even if I do say so myself!

I considered her to be an utterly pesky little fly, always hovering around me and wanting my attention. The humans obviously agreed with me, as they named her "Bluebottle". It was only later that I learned the name had arisen because she had a turned-up nose and reminded them of some character on a radio programme. Why oh why couldn't they have just called us Rex and Queenie, or some other dog-friendly names. Anyway, it became obvious that Bluebottle had some serious psychological problems, probably caused by her previous encounter with humans not as nice as mine. She was terrified of being approached too suddenly and cringed away from most people: she always responded to this by leaving a little puddle on the floor. She was one scared puppy! It took ages to cure her of this but with lots of patience on my part, and lots of disinfectant (and a little help from the humans), we got her over her psychoses. Of course, I had to show her who was boss every so often but she finally learned how things were done. Anyway, here is Bluebottle in our garden in Al Khod.........

As spring turned into summer it became very hot and very humid. This was not as bad as it seemed, as the humans decided it was too uncomfortable for us to stay in our own room outside. So, our beds were moved into the house, which was great. The labours of Mr Saini and his merry men had resulted in the house being blissfully cool - most of the time. The down-side was that we had become used to just nipping out for a quick call of nature during the night: it took us quite a while to learn that now we had to keep our legs crossed until one of the humans got up to open the back door. It was at about this time that I heard my mistress utter a very strange remark - "if I had invested in a disinfectant company, I'd be rich by now!" I've often wondered what she meant.

And then there was another pain in the neck - literally. I was relaxing in a really comfortable armchair in the living room one morning, waiting for the appearance of a human to get my breakfast. When my mistress finally came down stairs (about time too) she took one look at me and shrieked - well really, not very flattering! OK, I did still have wonky eyes, but there was no need to be rude about it and I must say I was a little hurt by this rather extreme reaction. However, it seems I misjudged her as the problem was that she had seen a rather large lump on my neck, which hadn't been there the night before. The master, summoned by the shriek, took one look and fell about laughing, saying that I was growing another head. I could tell by this time that it just wasn't going to be my day! Bluebottle responded to all the commotion in her usual way, necessitating another liberal application of disinfectant to the living room floor. More to the point, all this delayed breakfast, which was pretty inexcusable!

It was at this juncture that I learned the meaning of the 'V' word - vet - and a train of events was set in motion that I never came to grips with. Suffice it to say that I seemed to be caught in a time-warp which, even to this day, I don't fully understand. I was bundled into the car, which was confusing as it wasn't the weekend and the beach paraphernalia wasn't loaded with me (the disinfectant was, though!). A short journey (not so short that I didn't manage a quick up-chuck) brought us to a very weird place indeed. There were other animals at this place, sitting in a room with their humans, and they all looked either sheepish, sore or frankly ticked-off. There were cats in boxes, cats not in boxes, and a number of other dogs all giving off the 'don't mess with me' pheromone. One by one the animals and their humans disappeared into another room and were never seen again. What in heavens name was going on it that room which made people disappear? I was getting a bit fidgety by now, I can tell you.

So, finally it was our turn. While we were waiting I had resolved to walk into the room nonchalantly and not disgrace myself by having to be dragged, kicking and whimpering piteously, like the other animals. Boy, I got that one wrong too! I behaved just as the other animals had done, which is a perfect example of conditioning as I had no idea of what went on in the 'other room'. For all I knew, it could have been full of dog-treats and chewy-sticks!

I was obviously on my guard and wasn't very keen on the smell (a mixture of urine, fear and yet more disinfectant) which made my hackles rise. This is turn made the human in a white coat reach for a contraption which he slipped over my nose while I wasn't paying attention. By the time I had figured out what he was up to it was too late and my verbal protests were brought to a halt. However, that didn't stop me making my presence felt in the time-honoured way, by donating my own particular smell to the already potent atmosphere. If the mistress hadn't been so worried I think that might have resulted in some degree of censure, but I got away with it. The man in the white coat - the vet as I now know - had seen it all before and didn't look too bothered. After a bit of prodding and poking at the lump he prescribed some tablets. No sweat, I thought. I didn't know what tablets were, but I was sure they didn't hurt too much. What happened next did hurt though. For some inexplicable reason the vet stabbed me in the back of the neck, which made me a bit indignant as I thought I had behaved quite well (apart from the puddle). Tablets turned out to be a great game: the idea is to pretend to swallow the tablet and then spit it out when the humans aren't looking. I was obviously less clever than the mistress at this game though and she always beat me. Then I found out why everyone else had disappeared: there was another door! What a relief: if that had been general knowledge in the waiting room there would have been far fewer pheromones flying about, I'm sure (particularly from me).

As my mistress was a bit fraught by this time I did my very best not to do anything untoward in the car on the way back home, but to no avail. When we got home Bluebottle was waiting for me: it seems she had been worried that I would not be coming back. The cats were also waiting for me: it seems they had been hoping I wouldn't be coming back. In my somewhat agitated condition, I felt it was about time that I put those rotten cats in their places. The only trouble was that I just didn't feel up to it at that moment. Of course, no-one bothered to tell me what was going on but after listening in to the humans' conversation that evening I discovered that I was being given the tablets in case my lump was caused by an infection. Apparently if they didn't work then my problem was more serious and would require something called an 'operation'. I didn't know what that was but I resolved to make sure the tablets worked as I didn't like the sound of the alternative.

Unfortunately, after 7 days and innumerable tablets, I still had my lump. We had to take another trip to the vet: the only difference was that by now I knew the drill and could show off to the other animals in the waiting room in my knowledge that nothing too dramatic would happen. I also knew the secret of the vanishing act, so that held no worries for me either. I don't want to bore you with too many details, but over the next few days I had several visits to the man in the white coat, injections of some nasty stuff and then quite a few x-rays of my lump. The verdict was in: I had a 'salivary gland cyst'. This sounded quite important and, if it weren't for the never-ending visits and proddings, I thought I might be quite a special dog for having something so rare. So, that was it. Now that we all knew what it was I could relax and get on with boasting to Bluebottle and plotting my revenge on the cats for gloating. Another mistake. And this is where the operation business came in - I had to have one to remove the cyst. I didn't really know why, as the lump and I seemed to be quite happy together, but you know humans - once they get a bee in their bonnets there's no stopping them.

So, yet another trip to the vet. One positive outcome of all these to-ings and fro-ings was that I was cured of my car sickness: every cloud, as they say! Anyway, same old routine - but then, one horrifying difference! The mistress drove off without me. She actually left me with the vet. She was obviously fed up with me because I wasn't healthy and had abandoned me in this dreadful place with all these dreadful smells and with a whole load of sick animals. Utter panic! What would I do? How could I possibly manage? Who would look after me? Would anyone look after me? Ouch: another stab in the neck. I felt the tears pricking in my eyes, but she hadn't even shed a tear at never seeing me again. I hadn't been a bad dog (on the whole, although even I had to admit there had been some iffy moments). And then a very strange sensation: my limbs started to feel heavy and as though they belonged to someone else. I still felt utterly miserable, but could no longer focus on my misery. I keeled over and then, and then&ldots;...nothing!

CHAPTER 6: GRANVILLE THE GIRAFFE DOG

&ldots;&ldots;..and then, and then I was awake! Glory be, what a sleep I had just had. Only problem was that the limbs still didn't seem to be functioning properly and I had a raging thirst. Talk about having a mouth like a zoo-keeper's boot! I don't know what you're like when you wake from a deep sleep but I'm usually full of the joys of spring, itching to get out into the garden to have a good stretch and find a few lamp posts. This time I felt like my humans looked some mornings. And that thought brought the memories rushing back, of how happy I had been with them despite their little foibles (which we won't go into right now). How I would miss them, in my present state I thought I would even miss Zipser and Sumo! However, I felt so hung-over that I was forced to concentrate on one thing at a time (I could worry about the future later) and at that moment my number one priority was to find something to drink. Seeing a bowl of water in my prison I tried to bend my neck to take a drink. Ouch!!!!! My neck wouldn't work properly and it hurt like crazy. I have to say I thought I was going to lose it, but through my pain I saw the man in the white coat come into the cell and he gave me something to make me drowsy again.

When I woke for the second time I felt a little better. I can't really describe the sensation in my neck but it felt tight, as though the available skin had been wrapped around it twice. After a while the vet came in to see me and proclaimed himself satisfied that his handy work was in order: you should feel it from my point of view, I wanted to say. I tried to say it, but my voice only came out as a croak - they'd even taken my glorious bark away! Then he said "come on boy, time to go" and I felt all the old insecurities come flooding back. This was it then, the moment of truth, the rest of my life and whatever miseries that would entail was about to start. I took a big gulp of air (and that was pretty painful, too) and followed him out into the unknown.

I couldn't believe my eyes - my human was there, waiting for me. Waiting to lift me gently into the car and, I hoped, take me home. I cried, she cried, and in that manner we drove to the house, back through the big black gates, back to safety, security and love. Bluebottle rushed up and gave me a nuzzle, but I could see that she was puzzled by my unsteadiness and by the smell of whatever they had put on my neck. The cats came for a good look and gave me that irritating, knowing look that cats always display when their feeling of superiority is reinforced by another's indisposition. Just you wait, I thought to myself - my day will come: it's said that every dog has one, after all!

I didn't want much to eat, but I had a little to please the humans and then drifted off in an un-drugged sleep in my own little bed. I woke up in the morning feeling much better and had a bit of a lazy day. Bluebottle kept her distance, knowing that I still wasn't quite the ticket, but she came to see that I was OK every so often. I had a quick peek at myself in the mirror, but once was enough: I looked as though I had an army of black insects camped out on my neck. The lump, however, had quite disappeared.

By the next morning I had expected to be fully recovered: a shriek from the mistress told me this wasn't to be. It seems I had done something called 'taken the stitches out'

(apparently the stitches were what I had thought were insects, thank heavens for that). No breakfast, in the car, back to the vet, shot in the neck, fall asleep, out of it for the rest of the day, next day spent feeling under the weather, next morning stitches out, no breakfast, in the car&ldots;&ldots;&ldots;&ldots; and so on for a week! Now you know what I meant by living in a time-warp. I lost days on end! I was either asleep, waking up or being whisked back to the vet's. All in all, pretty confusing. The mistress was looking a bit frazzled too. Desperate measures were called for: these turned out to consist of a very thick, sticky bandage around my neck which made me look as though I'd stepped out of a page of National Geographic. My neck felt it had been stretched to twice its original length and there was no chance of seeing my toes! I swear those cats were laughing at me as I was carried out of the car and put into bed. I had retribution in my dreams, but come morning they were still there, grinning down at me from the stairs. Another problem was eating. I couldn't get my mouth anywhere near the bowl of food! The only answer was for the mistress to hand feed me from a spoon. Bluebottle also thought this was a good game, so come feeding time we would both sit there with our mouths open, like a couple of chicks in the nest, waiting for some tasty morsel to drop in. Actually, this was so pleasant that we carried on demanding to be fed in this way long after it was strictly necessary: the mistress does have her gullible streak!

A couple of weeks later the bandage was removed, the stitches taken out (not by me this time) and I was declared fit again. What a relief! I could finally get back to normal, chewing shoes, hanging on to Moussa's skirt and barking at everyone who came to the gate - yes, my lovely bark, by now a bass, had returned. Bliss! I was also very proud: as my condition was so rare, the vet was going to write a paper about me. This was eventually published in a respected veterinary journal, but my name wasn't mentioned to preserve my anonymity - shame really.

By now, the weather was starting to get cooler but we weren't put back outside at night. Given Bluebottle's incontinence I thought we might be relegated to my original bedroom but she had started to get her act together so we were allowed to stay indoors. We were all very happy and at weekends we all went to the beach so Bluebottle and I could run up and down until we were exhausted. I had celebrated my first birthday (goodness, what a lot I had packed into only a year) and Bluebottle's was coming up in the New Year. We were looking forward to Christmas and the reappearance of the indoors tree: I had told 'bottle what fun it was to skid into it from the front door. We had both grown into quite big dogs and I was getting quite handsome (apart from the wonky eyes). Bluebottle was getting a little porky, in my opinion, but there was no way she would pass up the chance of mashed potatoes! And then things started to go wrong, in a way I just couldn't put my paw on.

 CHAPTER 7: EXODUS

As I said, some very strange things started to happen. Bluebottle and I were measured every which way and we had our photos taken a million times. OK, sure we had been photographed loads of times before, but they were the sort of cutesy, one-off photos that get shoved into drawers as soon as they are developed. Boxes appeared in the house and then various things started to disappear. Then furniture disappeared. Then the car disappeared. Then the master disappeared. This upset me and I spent all day, while the mistress was at work, by the gates waiting for him to return. At this time we stopped going to the beach and started taking walks: Bluebottle and I would have things attached to our collars and we would walk out of the gates and round some pretty unattractive areas not too far from the house. We both longed to run freely as we had done on the beach but this was not to be. It was actually pretty naff to be treated in this way. When we saw any other dogs, which were, incidentally, not on strings attached to humans, we would be quite abruptly pulled in the opposite direction.

This upheaval was accompanied by another trip to the vet for me, and this time I came back missing two lumps! Then granny disappeared. That left us and the mistress: it was time for we 4 animals to bury our differences and have a bit of a conference. However, it seemed that such goings-on were even outside of Zipser's knowledge. We didn't actually resolve anything, but we had all started to get scared of what the future would hold. Then some very unattractive wooden things were delivered. They were huge, even Bluebottle and I could fit inside them - and that was also very strange, the mistress actually encouraged us to do this.

One day we were all shovelled into a friend's car and taken to a really noisy place. When a man came out of an office to look at us, well, we all thought that we had been sold or something (probably given away would have been more likely). He didn't seem very interested in us though, so we went back home.

Then one morning - actually it was so early it was still the dead of night - we were woken up, put on our strings and taken outside the gates. This was it then: we were to be set free and left to our own devices. We had only walked a little way when, at the end of a side road, we all saw a huge pack of dogs (Jebel dogs they were called, as they lived in the hills): there must have been at least 30 of them. Well, the mistress had never been known for her sprinting ability but that day she could have set a new world-record. Not that Bluebottle and I were too far behind her - we crashed through the gates in a dead heat, panting like mad, and collapsed. So, it seemed that we weren't to be liberated: what then?

Worse than liberation, we were imprisoned! In those horrible wooden things. And we were forced to take a tablet before our cell doors were locked and bolted. Not only us, the cats were also incarcerated in their own mobile homes. The mistress' friend arrived, closely followed by a group of strange men. I couldn't believe it - these men put me, Bluebottle and the two cats on the back of a truck and drove away. HELP!

"Where are you taking us?" we all cried out in unison (it actually didn't sound very unified as the cats spoke cat and we spoke dog, but the intention was there). Not surprisingly, we didn't get an answer. After a short while we stopped - we were back at the noisy place! We were going to be sold to that man after all. He hadn't really looked too sympatico, so you can imagine what sort of state we were all in.

We were taken off the lorry in our crates and at that moment the mistress pulled up in the friend's car and got out. She could see we were pretty miffed so she had a little chat with us. If the humans had explained things to us in the first place we would all have been much more relaxed! It seemed we were at an airport - well, we had figured that out, as by now our cells had huge stickers all over them with little aircraft on. Honestly, did she think we were completely stupid!

It appeared that the 4 of us and the humans were going to move from Oman to a place called Greece, but that this would involve going by plane (a couple of planes in fact). We had to be put in a separate part of the plane from her and she wouldn't see us again until we had reached Athens. However, we would have to change planes in Bahrain so some men would carry us from one plane to another. I didn't really like the sound of that, and resolved to give these people a jolly good barking at my first opportunity. I also didn't like the way the mistress had her fingers crossed - something told me that she wasn't as confident as she sounded! But then her voice started fading in and out as I inexplicably started to get drowsy and inattentive. I could hear 'bottle yawning and the cats had obviously gone to sleep, as they were no longer growling. I was about to ask her if someone would bring us a meal on the way, but I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. With that, the mistress faded away completely and I had the sensation of movement. Our epic journey was beginning.

I vaguely remember my cell being shifted at some point and then dozed off again. I also remember hearing other animals in the aeroplane: they seemed quite agitated and I wanted to tell them that there was no need to worry, but I just didn't have the energy. At some point I began to come out of my doze. I could tell that Bluebottle was still out of it but I heard the cats talking to each other. I still felt very woozy, the old legs didn't seem to want to do what my brain was instructing. That might have had something to do with the fact that the brain itself wasn't behaving normally and I had what I had heard the master call 'a thick head'.

Then there was a bump and a reduction in the noise level, followed eventually by a cessation of movement. Thank goodness for that! Now we could get to our new home, have a meal and stretch our legs before getting some proper sleep. However, it wasn't quite as simple as that! Amazingly enough, we were all taken off the plane together and put on a cart which took us somewhere and then drove off. The first problem was that it was freezing. You have to remember that we had lived all our lives in a very warm climate: this was positively arctic! I wondered why on earth the humans wanted to live somewhere this cold. I could hear the cats' teeth chattering and they had fur coats!

Well, we waited and waited and waited. Still no sign of the mistress. I thought that perhaps she had been loaded onto the wrong plane in Bahrain, then I wondered if we had arrived in Greenland instead of Greece - a simple mistake to make, but it would pose a bit of a problem! It was getting even colder and by this time it was also getting dark. I was still feeling a bit woozy, so the freezing temperature and the sight of strange people passing by the front of my cell were just too much to bear. Even if I do say so myself, I managed to sound pretty fierce: much growling and barking left these strangers in no doubt that I was one irritated dog! The people started to move further away and when they had to pass they looked very nervous: I guess they thought I was about to break out and savage them (I would have enjoyed that!).

Eventually we heard a welcome sound. The mistress had arrived and she seemed not only very pleased to see us but also absolutely amazed to find us all there. Good, now could we go home? Apparently not! There was a great deal of something called 'paper-work' to be completed. Fortunately the mistress had another friend, a very important-looking chap in a smart uniform, with her: I think that if she had been on her own, she would have just crawled into the cell with me and given up! Part of this paper-work exercise was a tax payment: I heard her say later that the customs people had put a huge value on us animals of 100,000, of which she had to pay 20% in tax. That actually made us feel very important indeed, as 100,000 rials was a considerable amount of money. I heard the friend say it was drachmas, but I didn't know what those were!

So, it was late, dark and cold which posed another problem: we wouldn't be able to get to our new house that evening. What was the matter, didn't they have street lights in Greece? The friend was going to drive us to his house so we could spend the night, which was a pretty generous offer if you ask me. Then I saw what he was going to drive us in! You have to realise that my humans had a lovely big car, specially designed to offer comfort to us dogs in the back. This friend had a matchbox on wheels - a cinquecento, by all accounts. Into this had to be loaded the friend, the mistress, all her luggage, 2 cats in their mobile homes and 'bottle and myself. And we were still in our huge cells! A bit of logistical nightmare!

I'm afraid to say I was pretty grumpy by this time: Bluebottle was terrified and the cats seemed to have gone into mental shut-down. Obviously we dogs had to come out of our cells but although it was nice to stretch our legs and perform the necessary, it was also a bit scary. I know the mistress was scared also, as she wrapped our strings around her wrists so tightly that her hands were in danger of dropping off. Well, I don't know how they did it, but we did all get into the car - just! We were driven some distance to the friend's flat where Mrs friend was waiting to welcome us, but unfortunately so was their dog. I have seen him many times since, and we have always got on well, but at that precise moment I was not at my most amenable. I am ashamed to say that the friends had to relocate their own dog for the night to accommodate us: what we would have done without them I can't imagine!

Well, we didn't have the greatest of nights. The mistress was like a cat on a hot tin roof, Bluebottle disgraced herself and the cats needed to go out but weren't allowed to. For the second night running we were taken out for a 2am walk, this time around the freezing streets of an Athens suburb. It was perishing! Cold is not quite the right word. If I had still been in possession of certain appendages, I can only assume that they would have dropped quite naturally. It was a relief to get back to the flat, where we settled down for a sleepless night and looked forward to our journey's end later that day.

 CHAPTER 8: AIRBORNE

We were all up, bright and early, which wasn't too difficult as we hadn't really gone to bed. After mopping up a few more puddles, courtesy of Bluebottle (I was pleased to discover they had disinfectant here in Greece too), we were ready for the second part of our great adventure. We loaded the car with luggage, two cats in boxes, two dogs and three humans (a feat that really should be used as a marketing tool by the car's manufacturers) and set off - back to the airport! I thought we would be crated-up again, and prepared myself for some stern resistance to this, but it was not to be. We went into the airport itself on our strings: how important we felt and everyone looked at us in amazement. We walked through a sort of machine and the cats were put on a moving thing that took them through another machine: when they got to a certain point we could see all their bones - very odd. Then all of us (two cats, two dogs, three humans and much luggage) got into a very small box in which there were already other humans. Phew, what a squeeze. I had no idea of the purpose of this until my stomach shot into my mouth as we seemed to travel downwards at an alarming rate. I believe this box was called a lift - what a stupid name, it should have been called a 'plummet'.

When the doors opened everyone fell out onto the floor. When all limbs had been disentangled we just stood about and waited for some time while the male human, again in his very dashing uniform, disappeared. I was a bit scared and left people in no doubt that, if anyone had attempted to pat me on the head, they would have lost a digit or two. Eventually we moved off - cats, dogs, luggage, humans - along a corridor and then outside. Now this really was scary as it was very noisy (not to mention cold). We were loaded into another car and the mistress said goodbye to her female friend. We only drove a little way and then had to get out. What on earth! Where the car had stopped there was a big bubble thing - surely we weren't expected to get in that? It was very high off the ground and there was no way I was attempting that jump. There followed a very undignified process whereby the mistress and her uniformed friend man-handled first Bluebottle and then myself into the contraption. I have to say, they weren't very careful where they put their hands!

So, we were in, the cats were loaded and then the luggage was thrown in afterwards. The mistress bade farewell to the man and she got in too. Then the door was shut and we just sat there wondering what would happen next. Then another human got into the bubble - he didn't sit with us, but was in a different bit at the front. Anyway, this didn't actually seem so bad and there was certainly more space than in the cinquecento. Bluebottle actually lay on the floor and attempted a doze - not for long! Something the man in front did caused a loud noise and the bubble started to shake - and this shaking got more and more violent. The poor cats were in their boxes vibrating like crazy. I was all for abandoning ship. Bluebottle looked as though she was about to have her fourth accident of the morning. Then I looked down and we weren't on the ground anymore. Horrible as it was, we were finally on our way to our new house. The end of our journey was in sight!

The mistress actually looked very agitated which I thought was a bit naughty, as she should have been trying to give us some confidence. Anyway, that was apparently my fault - my rear end was getting too close to the door handle for her liking, she explained, and she was having visions of all of us falling out and tumbling to earth. OK, point taken. Bluebottle was behaving much better that me and was lying on the floor. The cats didn't have any choice in the matter, they were still shaking their teeth out in their boxes. Then something strange happened - some white stuff appeared in the sky and started falling past the windows. I had no idea what this could have been, I had seen nothing like this in the Middle East. More and more started to fall, so that it became quite difficult to see the ground.

Then we started to get lower, so that we could see the ground again. It was covered in this white stuff, which I later learned was snow. Finally, a bump - we had landed! Now could we go home please? I supposed we had eventually reached our destination, but was puzzled by the fact that I couldn't see any people or houses - just white stuff. The machine was still making a big noise and we were all still shaking fit to bust. I was moderately alarmed to see the man in the front getting out, the mistress more so. I heard her telling the other humans later that she though we were either going to be abandoned in the middle of nowhere or that people would come out of the snow to rob her. We waited like this for ages but eventually the man reappeared, got back into the front, and we lifted off the ground again.

The man in front spoke and the mistress let out a wail. Oh no!!! It seemed that the weather was so bad we weren't going to be able to get to the new house. Where on earth was this new house anyway? Outer Mongolia? I'm afraid that at that moment my anxiety got the better of me and travelled from my brain straight to my bowels. What disgrace! My poor mistress was mortified: I hadn't meant to show her up in this manner but I really couldn't help it. She cleaned me and the bubble up as best she could, but I could tell that the man in the front wasn't overly pleased. We were a sorry looking bunch when we arrived back at our starting point. The car that had earlier driven us to the bubble was there to meet us, and the driver of that was also not best pleased when I managed to make a mess in the back of his car as well. The long-suffering friend was there to meet us, having apparently been forewarned by the bubble man. Fortunately he was not wearing his smart uniform. To get to his little car, we had to walk up some stairs. Now, I don't think I've told you this before, but I've never done stairs too well - and these were the open kind where you look down and see where you've come from. I couldn't do it. My brain willed my limbs to co-operate, but they refused to listen. So, after several trips up and down to take Bluebottle, the cats and the luggage, the humans had to carry me up the stairs between them. I'm sorry to say that some of my anxiety rubbed off on them, if you get my meaning.

How the friends found the kindness to take us all back to disrupt their flat for a second time I'll never know. More puddles, more disinfectant, another mid-night walk through the suburbs - and still the long-suffering cats were incarcerated. By this time I was beginning to feel sorry even for Sumo! Still the snow fell and there was doubt that we would be able to travel the next day. Given everyone's lack of sleep and discomfort, I can only assume that it was collective will-power that finally changed the weather for the better.

 CHAPTER 9: HOME AT LAST

So, you know the procedure by now. Three humans, two dogs, two cats and a heap of luggage in the cinquecento, get to the airport, walk through the departures hall, through the X-ray machine, down in the lift, wait in the corridor, walk outside, get in the car and an unceremonious bundling into the bubble. The only difference was that the back seat of the car and our bit of the bubble were covered in plastic sheeting. I can't imagine why! As I looked out of the window I saw the friends praying - for a safe journey or for our non-return? I'll leave that one up to you!

The engines started and the cats started vibrating. Bluebottle lay on the floor as before and I again got a bit of a talking to for nearly opening the door with my nether regions. To say that we all had something crossed was a bit of an understatement. It was a different driver today, presumably the first one was having therapy, and he had a friend with him. This friend had to be dropped off somewhere on the way - none of us knew where as we were all past caring. After he had left us, I heard the driver speak to the mistress, on which her jaw clanged down in disbelief. He actually had to gall to ask if she could direct him to the place we were supposed to land, as he didn't know where it was. So what, I thought! If we could land in a snow-covered field yesterday I was sure we could find somewhere to land today. Anywhere, in fact - as long as it didn't necessitate another trip in this infernal machine. The cats vibrated their agreement with these sentiments.

Anyway, we seemed to find the right place without too much grief and then Bluebottle and I set paw on Alonnisos for the first time. Not that we were too steady on our feet: all that vibrating had played havoc with the equilibrium! There were quite a lot of people to meet us, which was actually very nice of them on such a bitterly cold day. It was only later I found out that helicopter arrivals were quite rare, so that they had expected a famous movie star at the very least: no doubt the emergence of a dishevelled bunch of animals, several happy journey bags and a human approaching zombie-status was a bit of a let-down! And there, separating himself from the crowd, was the master. What absolute bliss, we were all thrilled: even more so when we saw our own car waiting to take us - finally -home.

 CHAPTER 10: SETTLING IN

We were all thrilled to be home, although it wasn't quite what we were used to in Oman. Moussa wasn't there for one thing, which was a great pity. It was also very cold and the humans didn't seem to have very much in the way of heating. Obviously they should have had Mr Saini around to get things sorted out. I also wondered why the walls, furniture and books were all black: surely my humans hadn't gone so far round the twist that they thought this actually looked attractive? Not true: the master explained that he had lit a fire to keep warm and the smoke had filled the room instead of going up the chimney. This phenomenon is apparently the norm on Alonnisos - can't imagine why they think it's a good idea!

The cats were ecstatic to finally be allowed out of their boxes. Sumo reverted to type by giving me a cursory smack on the nose and set about exploring. Zipser sat on top of a gas heater and promptly fell asleep, nearly adding to the smokiness when his tail got singed. Bluebottle and I wanted some food, understandably, and then a dog-nap - the only trouble was that the sofas weren't anywhere near as comfortable as our old ones had been. Oh well, we would just have to make do. We could sort out more amenable sleeping arrangements later!

Another major problem was that the garden wasn't dog-proof, which meant that we could 'escape' if the humans didn't keep a sharp eye out for us. The first thing to do was therefore build a fence around it - I really would have thought that they would have sorted this out already! Anyway, I guess I shouldn't be too critical - it was lovely for us all to be together again. We went on some terrific walks and the new smells were fascinating - it was actually much nicer than walking in Oman as there was grass and other green stuff. We even went to a beach, so we could chase up and down the sand - the wet stuff was far too cold to venture into though. There were also things called rabbits: we knew they were there, but do you think we could catch the little devils?

Before the garden was dog-proofed, I think the humans had a bit of a job knowing what to do with Bluebottle and I when they went out. One day they shut us in a room and, boy, did we get a telling off when they came back! Well, we were bored, and they never actually told us that it was not the done thing to chew the bed-stead to smithereens! There was still that fundamental lack of communication, you see.

Things improved as the temperature increased. The cats frolicked in the garden and we started on a regime whereby we barked like mad whenever someone came anywhere near the house - something, I'm proud to say, that we maintain even to this day! Then there was another welcome sight - granny! That was good news as it meant there was always a human around to indulge us. And when the weather really got warm the second granny came as well. That was very funny, as the two grannies sat outside together talking nineteen to the dozen - I had actually seen something very similar on the television, I think it was on a programme about frogs and pigs called the Muppets.

And talking about pigs, we actually met one on a walk one day. We came round a bend and there it was, hiding under a bush. Boy, was that one big pig. It seemed prudent for all of us to do an about-face and stroll off nonchalantly in the opposite direction - before legging it as fast as we could all run! There are some things that I don't have to be told not to mess with!

There was, however, a very sad occurrence not long after granny-1 came back. A shout from the mistress from the garden - she had found the body of Zipser. The poor old boy had eaten something nasty and had been killed. The humans were devastated and even Sumo shed a tear. Bluebottle and I thought how sad it was that poor Zipser should have gone through such a traumatic journey and not survived long enough to really enjoy his new home. He was laid to rest in the garden, and pretty flowers planted over him. We were all very gloomy for a long time after this.

At the end of our first summer, the humans got some decent heating installed. We dogs thought this was a terrific idea and Sumo was ecstatic: she found she could lay on the radiators and really indulge her passion for heat - after all, this was a creature who liked to lie in the mid-day sun of a middle-eastern summer. When the radiators got a bit too warm, even for her, she relocated to granny's lap. I have to admit a grudging admiration for Sumo: she could spend a whole night under a thick duvet without having to come up for air.

We got into a bit of hot water to begin with, as we couldn't get the hang of lasting the night without a call of nature. This was more Bluebottle's fault actually, I now believe she was suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome. Something else we discovered during our daily walks was 'goat'. These chaps looked a bit like dogs really, but were infinitely more stupid. We were told in no uncertain terms that goats were strictly off limits: it appeared that the natives were very fond of their goats, and if we should so much as look at one we would be in serious trouble. Point taken - some of the natives we spotted out walking their goats looked pretty fierce!

We were also warned about chasing dogs, chasing cats, barking too much and taking up too much of the sofa: life was hard sometimes! This latter point was overcome when the humans bought some more furniture so they could sit down as well. As the new sofas were much more comfortable than the old ones, Bluebottle and I obviously used these in preference. We got told off about that as well, but we eventually got the humans over this hang-up, and now they sit on the floor as before.

CHAPTER 11: SICK BAY

As the humans settled into island life they got busier and busier. That 'work' stuff intruded again and they spent a lot of time out of the house. Just as well we were there to look after granny! Lots of people dropped in for a chat, so there never seemed to be a dull moment - there were certainly plenty of people to bark at!

The humans were also kind enough to provide us with a holiday every so often: they would import some interesting people to look after us for a while, which was very thoughtful. I don't know where they went to, but they kept out of the way to allow us an opportunity to train these temporary humans. That was good fun, as they usually let us get away with a lot more than we would have done under the usual regime. Auntie Cyn was always good for extra rations, and the little people were good value too: they took us on lots of nice walks. I have always assumed that the little people had been named by my humans as their names sounded as crazy as ours: Rooney and Blinder.

The good thing about the island is that there is no vet - what a relief, I can't have anything else cut off! The mistress does not agree with me on this point! She has reminded me of the time she had to stitch up Bluebottle's chest after she had torn a huge chunk of flesh away on barbed wire. This operation took place on the kitchen floor! She has also reminded me of my own chequered medical history, something which I have been trying hard to forget!

So I might as well tell you, although it was a very painful time for me. It was while we were looking after Rooney and Blinder, my humans having gone walk-about. We were going out for a walk, but as I rushed up the stairs from the bedroom I skidded on the bend and felt a sharp pain in my lower back. I struggled on dogfully and managed to get into the car and, after walking for a while, my back did seem to get easier. However, after we had got home and I had had a nap, I found it difficult to get up and walking became even more difficult. Since my humans were due back in a couple of days I had to be lively for them, but I just couldn't walk properly and it hurt quite a lot. Anyway, I tried my best but when they got home they could see I wasn't quite the ticket. It was about walkies time, and I felt obliged take them out as they were probably expecting it, so against my better judgement I took them for a brief stroll around the forest.

Well, the next day I couldn't move - literally. I was paralysed from the middle down. It was a very undignified time, as I couldn't get up to go to the toilet even. I was so ashamed, I just had to lie on the floor and make a mess. The humans were very worried and they were also very kind, never once telling me off for not being clean. I know that they originally thought that I was ill because I had eaten something horrible like poor old Zipser. Anyway they eventually found some pills which worked a treat, although it was a very long process before I could walk again. In the meantime, the master used to carry me down into the garden: no mean feat, as by this time I had put on a few pounds (not as many as Bluebottle, though). I had to take the tablets for ages - that actually didn't worry me too much, as they came ready-wrapped in a piece of spready cheese. I can't tell you how relieved I felt when I could eventually walk down the garden steps by myself: the strange thing is that, to this day, I haven't been able to face the stairs in the house. There is just no way that I could ever walk up or down them again.

This happened one March. The following March, almost to the very day, the same thing happened again, and again my humans weren't around. This time Bluebottle and I were looking after Auntie Cyn. Fortunately she managed to get hold of the mistress on the telephone and was instructed to instigate the tablet/spready cheese regimen asap. The mistress got back as soon as she could and we went through the same routine: total paralysis, lots of mess and disinfectant, being carried into the garden by the master and so on. I recovered the use of my legs much more quickly this time, but then another problem arose. I knew the humans were worried that, although I had seemed to get better more rapidly, I wasn't getting fully well. From my point of view, I still felt awful: it wasn't the legs, but I just felt generally grotty.

Anyway, the humans went out one evening and, by the time they got back, my right leg had swollen to the size of a telegraph pole. Then the left leg started to do the same. Oh heavens, I was about to explode! Fortunately, and I never thought I'd say that about a vet, there happened to be one here at the time. She said I had got a bad infection and gave me some other tablets. She also stitched my leg, which had exploded, leaving a rather nasty hole. To cut a long story short, I recovered after the vet's ministrations and now I feel absolutely fine. That's not to say that the following year we weren't all on tenterhooks, waiting for another recurrence of my own 'Ides of March'. It was quite a relief when April arrived! In fact, now I'm back to my lively best and am leaping about like a two year old, even if I do say so myself. I still won't use the stairs in the house, though! The master has devised some cunning contraptions to make it easier for me to get into the back of the car: so far I've strongly resisted using these as they have been quite infra dig., but bless him for trying.

I have had one other health problem over the years, and for the life of me I can't see why it was the source of so much amusement! On two separate occasions my face has swollen up horribly, causing my eyes to close and making me look like (dare I say it?) a sumo wrestler on steroids. The first time this happened the humans were beside themselves. Once they had figured out the cause, and knew that it was just a temporary allergy to some pesky insect they were relieved. The second time it happened they fell about laughing and took my photo. How could they be so insensitive?

Bluebottle has also had her share of health problems, although they haven't been as bad as mine. Owing to the fact that she has put on an amazing amount of weight (one unkind soul described her as a keg on legs), she is having some bother with her joints. At present this problem is being kept at bay by the mistress and her little bag of tricks. Poor old 'bottle really can't keep up with me when we go for walks though. She also has very long toenails, but squeals like a stuck pig whenever anyone tries to cut them. She really is a baby sometimes.

Sumo also hasn't escaped scot-free on the illness front. Not long after we arrived in Greece, and despite having had all the appropriate vaccinations, she got a very bad dose of cat flu. The humans apparently thought she was a goner, but after some intensive TLC she recovered fully. She very quickly got back to her malevolent best!

CHAPTER 12: ZOOPHILIA

You might be forgiven for thinking that all this time it has just been me, the humans, Bluebottle and Sumo here in our little house. Not so: the humans' passion for collecting waifs and strays has gone into overdrive since we arrived in Greece!

In early 1998, the master came back from an outing on his motorbike with something inside his jacket. It turned out to be the cutest puppy imaginable: a bundle of greyish fur which, on second inspection, turned out to be all teeth and bladder. He and granny put her in a little box with a towel, so she could sleep. Bluebottle took an instant dislike to the creature, so I had to be extra careful to keep an eye on her. It seems the poor little soul, who was only a couple of months old, had been dumped in the road in the sure knowledge that she would be run over and therefore disposed of. There was much whispering between the master and granny about what the mistress would say when she got home from school. As it happened, some students had seen the master putting the puppy inside his jacket, so it was no surprise to the mistress - and let's face it, she wouldn't have complained anyway! So, there was a third dog who was obviously going to be a permanent member of our household. Actually, I liked her a lot and so did Bluebottle after she got used to the idea.

I'm dreading telling you what her name is, because you will just not believe what the humans called her. Here goes - Barnstoneworth! Yes, another TV programme is to blame for this. How embarrassing can you get? Even worse, when anyone asks the humans how they could give her a name like this they go into paroxysms of laughter saying that she has a second name - United. Personally, I don't get it but it amuses the humans and, after all, they're the ones who buy the doggie-nosh!

Barney, as Bluebottle and I call her to save her blushes, is OK. A bit of a daddy's girl, if you ask me, but that's not her fault. She is actually quite privileged as now she sleeps on the humans' bed every night, but she's a great rabbiter (she never actually catches any, but she's great at sniffing them out). It was also Barney who first spotted the pig: she just stood there barking at it until we managed to drag her away and persuade her that discretion was the better part of valour. Sumo, it goes without saying, took an instant dislike to Barney, but as she also sleeps on the humans' bed every night I can only assume they have come to some understanding.

Of course, things did not run smoothly right from the off. If anything, Barney had a greater incontinence problem than Bluebottle. But we got there in the end. I know the humans had a bit of a problem with her because she insisted on jumping up at everybody when she got excited, but advancing years and increasing weight have got rid of this habit. Another irritating habit she had as a puppy was that she was a first class shoe-chewer: I actually admired her for this because, as you know, I was pretty good at demolishing shoes myself. However, the humans were less than amused! She is also a liability when the humans have people round for drinks; Barnstoneworth's tail can take four wine glasses off the coffee table at a single swipe!

When Barnstoneworth was a small puppy she could fit through the cat flap. This was great for her as she could come and go into the garden as she pleased. As she grew, the egress became more and more difficult, until one day she could no longer squeeze her way through and she got stuck. She still used to try though, and this resulted in her looking like a low-level hunting trophy - head one side, body and limbs the other. Funnily enough, she is still the only one of us dogs who uses the cat flap: when something is going on outside that she wants part of, she sticks her head through to see what's occurring.

At the moment we have a fourth dog, although I have been assured by the master that Elvis is not a permanent fixture. I really don't want Elvis to stay, but that doesn't stop me feeling sorry for the poor little devil. He sure has got more than his fair share of problems. Elvis was discovered in our neighbour's garden just a few weeks ago by a friend of the humans. I almost wept when I first saw him (after I'd had a good bark, of course). He was skin and bones. You must remember that I was a skinny little puppy, but I was Billy Bunter compared to Elvis. The strange thing was that he was wearing a collar: did he belong to someone? And if so, how could they possibly let him get into this condition? There's no doubting that there are some cruel people about!

Elvis is about 4 months old, by my reckoning. He is totally uncontrollable, leaping up and biting anything and everything: the mistress says this is because he is bored, not because he is a bad dog, but then she has always been a soft touch! He is quartered in the apothiki (a store-room under the house) as not even my humans could envisage him being in the house. Although they have nursed him back to health (he is now in very good condition - his coat is soft and shiny and his bones are no longer sticking through his skin), the humans have discovered why he tends to demolish everything in reach - he is virtually blind. This causes him to blunder about like a steam train out of control. When we go for walks and he is brought up from downstairs to join us in the car, he knows that he has to turn left at the top of the stairs to get to the car. Unfortunately he can't see that the gate is closed and just head-butts straight into it. Same thing with the car itself - he can't see that the car door is closed, but tries to get in anyway. He is also not that great at sniffing! He has managed to get himself lost several times when we have all been out for walks together - I find it difficult to believe that any dog in its right mind can't detect the whereabouts of two humans and three other dogs. How can you not feel sorry for Elvis? I don’t know what the humans are going to do with this one - the lamest of all the lame ducks they have collected over the years.

Then there was Jack. He wasn't part of our family, but belonged to someone else who never fed him and kept him tied up all the time. My humans apparently couldn't bear to see him being starved and kept on a short chain in a dark cell, so they decided to adopt him. They took him a big bowl of food every morning and took him for a walk every day so he could discover what every dog needs to feel - the joys of liberty and freedom. Then they used to put him in an open space, and some friends of theirs even built him a little house so he could stay there and see what was going on. My humans used to bring him into the garden sometimes to play with me: I liked Jack a lot, he was an OK dog. Despite having been chained up all his life he was a friendly soul. The girls didn’t get on with him too well, probably because he was so big, but us boys had some good fun together. This business with Jack lasted for five years - and my temporary humans looked after him too when my real ones went away. I was very sad to learn that Jack died last summer. He either throttled himself on his chain or got it caught so violently that he broke his neck. I would like to think it was the latter, I would hate to think that he had suffered even more.

CHAPTER 13: CATS, CATS AND MORE CATS

Perhaps you are thinking that my humans only collected dogs - not so! Indeed far from it, we are in the minority. Fortunately none of them have been as mean as Sumo, and they have quite changed my opinion of the species. You will, of course, have to excuse their names. They are nothing to do with me and I continue to be embarrassed by the humans when they go outside and shout for these hapless creatures to come inside.

An early addition was Baldrick and I suspect he was the mistress' favourite of all time. Baldrick was a tiny scrap who could fit into the palm of a hand when the mistress found him. He was mostly white with some grey tabby bits. Granny used to put him in the pocket of her house-coat and carry him around. Because he was so young he used to suck the humans clothes and puddle with his paws. He tried that on me a few times but I soon cured him! As he got bigger he would sit on the mistress' shoulder and also curl up in the fruit bowl. He was a sweetie really, and when he was run over outside the house the humans were terribly upset. Poor old 'Balders' is buried in the garden too.

Just after Baldrick was found, at about the same time that Barnstoneworth joined us, Mollie also turned up. She was a little tabby with the prettiest face I think I have ever seen on a cat. She appeared outside the gate one day and, of course, the humans invited her inside on the understanding that she would live on the verandah. Yeah, right! Who did they think they were kidding! One day later she was inside and curled up on the sofa with the rest of us. She and Baldrick were an item, but I felt sorry for Mollie because Sumo really had it in for her. I should have mentioned that not only does Sumo hate us dogs, she is really horrible to other cats! I have tried to remonstrate with her about this but she always beats me up. Anyway, I think Mollie had just had enough of Sumo one day and we never saw her again. I know the humans spent ages looking for her, but there was no sign.

Then there was Sam (how he escaped with a sensible name I shall never know!). Sam was found by the mistress (who else?) near the harbour. The harbour is a place I have only ever seen from the car: it looked like fun as there were a number of dogs and cats strolling around taking the air and minding their own business. I would have liked to have joined them, but according to the humans I don't have something called 'street-cred'. This seems to mean that I am not smart enough to avoid being run over if I'm allowed out on my own. A bit of a harsh assessment if you ask me, but I guess they do have my best interests at heart. Anyway, back to Sam. He was all black with just a few white hairs under his chin. He had been in an accident and his rear end was in need of surgery. As there was a visiting vet here at the time, the mistress whisked him off for treatment. This resulted in Sam losing his lumps like I had, and also most of his tail. Of course, he was only brought back to the house so he could recover from the operation! Why do they keep saying that, we all know they are going to move in! Anyway, it seemed that Sam could hold his own against Sumo so he was allowed to stay. He was another good old boy, like Zipser. He used to be a pretty good hunter, but this meant that he used to disappear for fairly long periods and then reappear when he wanted feeding. One time he had gone for days and the humans thought something had happened to him. He did come back eventually but with a very gammy leg. The concensus was that he had been hit by a car, but the humans seemed very pleased to see him again - as were we dogs, especially Barnstoneworth who got on with him very well. He recovered from this, although he always had a bit of a limp, and then he succumbed to the same fate as Zipser: poisoned by horrible people. He had managed to get back to the garden and was found by the mistress one morning: he was buried near Zipser and Baldrick.

Nearly three years ago now we were joined by Yoda. Also tiny, also collected by the mistress, also not quite intact! Toda is still tiny and is a beautiful grey colour. She has incredibly soft fur and I love it when she curls up on the sofa next to me. Poor Yoda has what the mistress describes as a congenital defect which has affected half her face: one eye and possibly one ear don't work, so she holds her head on one side most of the time - hence the name, apparently! Yoda and Sumo don't get on too well - now, there's a surprise - but she comes and goes at will. She has an uncanny knack of foretelling bad weather: when she comes in and settles down you can guarantee that we are in for a storm. I love Yoda, and I think she is quite fond of me: however, I injured her badly when she was tiny and newly installed. As I've said, I've put on a bit of weight over the years so I'm quite a sizeable dog (naming no names, but I have been told that I look like a bar of toblerone in cross-section when I'm sitting down - I can only assume this is derogatory!). One day, Yoda was playing with a pen which I also fancied playing with. Well, in competing to be the first to retrieve the pen I sat on her. I didn't mean to, it was a fair contest! OK, mea culpa - I sat on her and broke her leg. How bad did I feel? The poor little thing was about one hundredth of my size and I broke her leg. Talk about hang-dog! Yoda was bundled up for TLC and treatment and I was definitely in the dog-house. Anyway, her leg was splinted by the mistress and eventually it healed. All's well that ends well, I suppose.

Then, towards the end of the summer before last we had more arrivals. The mistress had gone outside to call the cats in for breakfast when she saw a movement in the flower bed outside the house. There was a plastic carrier bag with newspaper in, and two tiny kittens. Well, need I say more? The 'bag babies' were brought inside and installed in the house-hold. Names? Do I really have to tell you their names? You asked for it - Greebo and Magrat (supposedly after characters in books by one of the mistress' favourite authors). Anyway, Greebo and Magrat are mostly white with ginger splodges. They are OK really: Magrat is the more timid of the two but, like Yoda, she's good to curl up with on the sofa. Greebo is a bit of a Baldrick - he is quite happy to be carried about the house on the mistress' shoulder and he also sleeps with the humans at night.

So, to recap: there are four cats and us three dogs - and Elvis outside, of course! And I suppose I should mention the exo-cats. These creatures have appeared over the last few months: being suckers, the humans started feeding them, and now, which is even worse, they have relocated them from the front of the house into the garden! There are seven of them. Mother cat, Igor (a big old bruiser who looks like he has been stitched together from the body parts of several other cats), three of the first group of kittens and two more tiny specimens that even I have to admit are quite cute. However, I'm not sure that I want them in my garden but I didn't get a vote on the matter! Elvis gets on with them OK, but only because he can't see them: they do tease him!

CHAPTER 16: END GAME

So, what else has been memorable? I've spoken before about rabbits, but I haven't mentioned that one of us actually caught one. Was it me, with my superior intellect? Was it Barnstoneworth with her superior speed? No, it was big fat old Bluebottle! She managed to escape the garden one day and came back with a beautiful grey bunny in her mouth. The mistress took it from her, which was a bit mean really, and it was fine apart from being covered in dribble. Well, I'm sure it was a bit traumatised - who wouldn't be? - but the mistress put in it one of the cat boxes, gave it some food, and then liberated it when she was sure it was going to be OK. Bravo Bluebottle!

Talking of catching things, Sumo (for all her other faults) is a great ratter. She not only catches rats but devours them, leaving only the nose as a trophy to give the humans. Greebo is also pretty handy, but he tends to deliver them alive and kicking. I can remember some years ago when the humans noticed that some of their potatoes were being nibbled during the night. Not me - I prefer my potatoes cooked! Well, of course it was rats (actually 'bottle and I came into a great deal of flack for letting them in the house, but they bite!). Anyway, the humans caught the culprit and what do you think they did? Kill it? No. Give it to Sumo (a fate worse than death)? No. They put it in a bucket, took it in the car to a remote location and set it free! Not only that, they gave it a potato to eat! What can I say, that just about sums my humans up!

Since living on Alonnisos we have experienced more of that white stuff that we first encountered during our epic journey to the island all those years ago. It's not so bad, now that we've come to terms with it, although it makes the paws tingle a bit! There is actually a photo of us and the master in the snow on something called a 'web site' (what is he, spider man?).

Some years ago the humans thought they would like to go back to their home country, England, and obviously they would be taking us with them. To that end they had to get us some passports - I didn’t like the sound of that, and I turned out to be completely justified in this as the procedure caused us a lot of grief. It seemed that we needed something called a chip. Now, I am very fond of chips, so I didn't foresee any problems. Unfortunately, a chip isn’t really a chip - if you get my meaning. At least I hope not. I'd hate to think there was a bit of potato under my skin near my shoulder blade. This procedure necessitated a visit from a vet (yuk!) and at varying stages Barney, 'bottle and I (and Sam and Sumo) had vaccinations and blood tests. The worst part was this chip business which involved in injection with a needle the size of a drainpipe. To really put the icing on the cake, after all this, the humans decided not to go after all! I suppose they just wanted to stay here and indulge themselves in a frenzy of cat collecting!!!

A very sad occurrence was the departure of granny. She has been dead for about five years now: whether she was poisoned like Zipser, run over like Baldrick or chased off by Sumo like Mollie (actually, I don't think it was the latter as she was Sumo's favourite human of all time), I'm not really sure. She is buried up the road with other humans, but I know she would rather have been buried in the garden with her beloved cats.

And I really think that's about it! I have come to the end of my story - so far. I will be ten years old this August, hopefully there will be time for a sequel! I have had quite a full life, I guess. Lots of good things, a few bad. All in all I have been lucky with my humans: they have taken a while to train to my satisfaction, but we managed. I have been helped by Bluebottle over the years of course. She is so fat now that she can only dream of recapturing her 'rabbit' days, but she's not a bad old stick. Sumo is still around, but she is a year older than me so one day I might be able to get my own back for the years of smacked noses. The junior animals are fine, not a bad bunch at all - as long as they leave me enough room on the sofa! And that is where I am now after a very hard day - I have to be careful of my back, after all!

and this is me and Bluebottle enjoying a swim on Christmas Day 2004, Barnstoneworth was off chasing rabbits!...........

to be continued .........................