Ramblings of a collie-flower...

In February 2001 things were moving apace and Anna Dieckfoss was persuaded to enter her first show in April. Before she could, however, she needed to register her dog Skye with The Kennel Club. Skye was just two years old then but a bit of a star. She put paw to paper and this is what she wrote, edited by Anna!

Things are moving on apace - rather too much ‘on apace’ for Anna -I’ve been told I’m to be entering my first show in April, and to this end it seems I must be registered with something called ‘The Kennel Club.’

Before I go any further, could someone explain the meaning of ‘kennel?' I’m extremely familiar with ‘sofa,' and can thoroughly recommend ‘double-bed-with-duvet’ when I get the chance, but ‘kennel’ is most definitely an alien concept.

Anyway, for this to happen, I apparently need a posh 'Sunday name,' the longer and more obscure the better. Anna searched the imagination department of her brain, and on finding it wanting, proceeded to arm herself with an assortment of plant and seed catalogues. She’d decided that as I work in forestry, I should be named after something of a vegetable nature. I might add that I’m really quite happy with my bona fide* name, but I don’t have a vote here. (* That should be spelt ‘bone Fido’, really. It’s Latin for ‘good dog’, ‘beautiful dog’, or ‘give the dog a bone’----can’t remember which at the moment.)

At some point during the evening, I began to realise that her level of stupidity rose in direct proportion to the drop in level of the wine in the bottle, much in the same way that my olfactory senses diminish in relation to the level of deafness I select on the agility training course. I’m fond of my little treat rewards but sometimes you could wave a whole roast chicken under my nose without being able to deter me from my mission, which is usually to impede another dog’s progress, or go on a forbidden obstacle, but that’s another story.

I really am extremely kind to other living creatures, though. For example, I assist the squirrels in the woods in their attempts to beat the world tree-climbing record. When I’m having a good old gossip with my mates in the Obedience (!) class, I break off immediately a new dog comes in and make him very welcome. I curl my lips right back to show him my full set of pearly whites and demonstrate how quickly I can make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

In the days of my extreme youth, I patiently tried to convince the milkman at work that his float would be more aerodynamically efficient if I removed his mud flaps as he passed, but he seemed strangely resistant to the idea. In fact, both he and Anna actively discouraged it in no uncertain terms. That’s all the thanks I got for trying to be helpful. Come to think of it, whether said milkman could be classed as a ‘living creature’ is a moot point.

Editor’s note: Unusually, I am in total agreement with Skye on this one!

At this point, thankfully, she staggered off for a bath. I decided to forgo my nightly duties of snapping at the bubbles and stealing the nailbrush and took myself off to bed (hers) complete with seed catalogue. What’s good enough for four legs is good enough for two, I thought to myself and looked for a suitable name for her Kennel Club registration. I didn’t have to study it for long. There’s a broad bean (one of her nicknames) called Aquadulce; according to the blurb, it’s 'slow to mature.' I rest my case.

I understand she now has a shortlist of four, which she has to submit in order of preference. I hope Masterpiece Green Longpod isn’t amongst them. I refuse to sound like one of Robin Hood’s merry men. In retrospect, perhaps I should be more tolerant of Anna’s eccentricities. After all, the exercise did afford her much amusement. She often says that all she wants is for me to be happy and, really, that is all I want for her. And if shrieking with laughter at plant names is all it takes, then so be it.

Skye is also a poet. To read her 'Conversations at Dundee' go to Poetry in Motion

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