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A Beardie Almost Takes Tea 5The Resource for Everything About Dogs |
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A Beardie Almost Takes Tea 5by Pamela Glynn
Sam and I had been invited out to tea. The elderly lady who had invited us had met him just once and on that occasion he had been on his best behavior. So Violet thought him handsome and appealing and certainly didn?t foresee any problem with her tea-invitation. Odd as it may seem, I foresaw a few potential problems ? but Sam was keen to accompany me (reassuring me, both with licks and a wholly innocent expression, that he wouldn?t dream of putting a paw wrong) ? and, after all, Violet had also suggested a walk. The walk was to take place in Singleton Park, Swansea. This was a park my boy and I had never walked in previously. We drove the eight miles from home to Violet?s little flat in the city and Sam waited relatively patiently in the car while I rang her doorbell. Violet, some years pre-war, was a Bond Street mannequin and looks to this day every inch the model. On that particular afternoon she answered her door wearing a white turban, white jumper and jacket, calf-length white skirt, white tights and spotless white shoes. Oh dear! If this is an achievable feat, my heart both lifted and sank upon sight of her. She looked so beautiful ? and, where Sam was concerned, so very vulnerable. But he had promised, hadn?t he, to behave himself? So there was no need for me to worry. Violet valiantly climbed in to my Shogun and off we drove to the park. In perfect summery weather we then started strolling beneath glorious trees and across immaculate lawns, always with a magnificent view of the sea ? and always with Sam securely on-lead. That is, his lead was on until Violet pleaded with me to let him have his freedom. Every other dog in the vicinity, she rightly pointed out to me, was running free and it was not fair on Sam to have to walk sedately ?at an old lady?s pace?. Sam ? sedate? I had reservations. But Violet can be most persuasive and Sam was walking so well to heel that I actually began to believe he might have turned over a new leaf. Besides, there were no gulls currently here. So what soup could Sam get in to? Against my better judgment, I let myself be persuaded. Freed at last, off he bounded, full of joie de vivre, to check out trees and sniffs and anything of interest. He was a sight for sore eyes and Violet feasted hers on him, commenting that I was over-protective. Dogs needed their play and Sam needed his more than most. He could come to no harm, here in the park. Lulled in to a false sense of security, I concentrated on Violet and for a few unwise moments forgot Sam. Remembering him again, I soon panicked, for he was nowhere to be seen. Where on earth was he? Violet spotted him before I did. Beneath a big chestnut tree, he was wallowing neck-deep, in the blackest mud he had ever wallowed in. There had been no rain for days, so mud was something I hadn?t envisaged. Appalled, I called Sam, running toward him. But he, ecstatic in his mud-bath, had no thought at all of responding to the call of a spoilsport. He wriggled further in, ensuring that there was no part of him untouched by mud. His thoroughness was quite awesome. By the time that he emerged, closely resembling some specter from a horror-film, Violet was positioned nearby and finding his antics highly entertaining. It was all too obvious what would happen next ? and, certain that Violet was Sam?s selected target, I charged between them like some demented thing. My timing (born of long experience) was spot on. As Sam began shaking himself, I took the full force of the mud. As I wasn?t wearing white, no great harm was done ? and Violet never wore white in Sam?s company again. For some reason she didn?t ask him in for tea ? Copyright: Pamela Glynn
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