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!

Continued in book form - available mid-2010

Check back soon!