THE DOLLY DIARIES by Dolly B.

They think I don’t know what they have been up to, but I’m not so green as I am cabbage-looking. Joke. I’m black as your hat, and proud of it.

I’m talking of course about Joyce and that nephew of hers, Rob, who has come to live with us. Not content with sneaking round taking pictures of me when they think I’m not looking, they’ve had the nerve to set up a web site called "Mad Jack Russells." With pictures, of course.

It seems that I am very photogenic. It’s no surprise to me of course. I’ve long been of the opinion that I’m perfect in every respect. The difficulty is that not everyone else is as convinced as I am of that fact. Still, no doubt the photographs printed on the site will soon prove what I have always known, and that is, that you can’t beat a Jack Russell when it comes to brains, beauty, and a lively character. Humans take note. You could learn a lot from me.

I feel that I can’t allow the title of the Web Site pass without comment. Who says Jack Russells are mad? It seems to me that our characters have been blackened by the human race. (See the clever simile? Blackened - a reference to my colouring.) Readers take note: I’m very proud of being black. It sets me apart from the common herd. Some Jack Russells (and their human companions) think that being white, with black or brown patches over one eye is cute, but I’m here to tell you that that Black is Beautiful. Oh all right, I didn’t invent the expression, but if the cap fits, wear it is what I say.

Now, what else would you like to know about me? There seems to be a deafening silence here, but I’ll tell you a few things anyway. Oh dear. Suddenly my mind seems to have gone a blank. I’m not used to so much thinking all in one go. Excuse me while I go away and ponder on the subject for a while. These intellectual exercises are a little tiring. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right after I’ve had a little nap.

Some time later: Ah, that’s better! Nothing like a little shut-eye to refresh the brain cells. Now where was I?
Oh yes. I was about to tell you a few things which I am sure will put me in a more favourable light. I am most definitely not mad. Exuberant, yes. I’ll grant you that. Enthusiastic, ditto, but surely those are good signs? Perish the day, when all I want to do is put my head down between my paws and sleep the days away. However, all this thinking is making my head spin. I’m not used to it. Another little nap is indicated, I think.

Still later: I know what it was that I was trying to remember earlier on. Those gold - rimmed spectacles Joyce was moaning about. I didn’t know that they were anything important. She was always taking them off and leaving them on the coffee table. I thought that things left there were probably intended for me to play with. After all, a puppy needs toys, and she shouldn’t have left them there if she didn’t want me to touch them. Anyway, I’m hardly to blame if the insurance company refuses to pay for damage caused by pets. What I say is, if you have a pet, be prepared for any little accidents which might occur.

As to her getting a black eye and a thick lip, - another of the things she’s been moaning about – they occurred whilst we were playing. I was trying to keep her amused at the time. She should have kept her face out of harm’s way. After all, everyone ought to realise that a healthy Jack Russell puppy likes to jump in the air, or off the backs of sofas and arm chairs. It’s part of the job description.

And another thing. In the days before everybody had computers, I don’t expect there were all those trailing wires with plugs on the end around to tempt a healthy puppy to exercise its teeth. I blame the thoughtlessness of people.
Joyce is probably planning to have a moan about the day I managed to put her into Casualty at the local hospital. So I might as well tell you my side of the story. We were out for our daily walk, when all at once we saw a neighbour we were friendly with, passing by on the other side of the road.

Well, I wasn’t to know that Joyce wouldn’t pick up her feet properly when we reached the opposite curb, was I? I was only anxious to get to the other side of the road to say "hallo," like any normal dog would do. I couldn’t understand why Joyce decided it was time to have a lie down on the pavement. But then, there is no accounting for what humans will do, is there?

Anyway, there she was lying, moaning quietly, and saying her leg hurt. she had gone a funny colour and wasn’t breathing very well, either. Before you knew it, there was a crowd of people standing around, saying "don’t try to get up, we’re going to send for an ambulance."

In the end I missed all the fun. One of the neighbours borrowed our key and put me in our house, so I didn’t even see the ambulance arrive. I heard it though. It made a funny bleating noise like an animal in pain.

It was all a fuss about nothing, anyway. Joyce came back to the house in a taxi a few hours later, with a tear in her trousers and a small plaster on her knee, and that was the end of it. I don’t see why I should be blamed, do you?
Being an author is tiring, isn’t it? Time for another lie-down, I think. 

Anyway I have a cunning plan. I have discovered that if I sit up on the back of one of the armchairs, or on one of the dining room chairs, I get a grandstand view of the back garden. It makes a change from watching people through the front window. That has become a bit boring, actually. It doesn’t matter how loudly I bark at them, the people carry on walking past our front garden and completely ignore me. I wouldn’t mind, but I get shouted at for merely doing my duty as a guard dog.

Anyway, if I sit very still, and stare out of the window hard enough, I’m sometimes lucky enough to see a squirrel running along the top of the wall at the end of the garden. Sometimes, it gets onto the roof of a garage which we can see from here, and from there it takes a flying leap onto the roof of the bungalow behind the wall. I never manage to get out into the garden quickly enough, though.

I wish I was a squirrel. I like heights. Unfortunately, the way I’m built, wall climbing is a bit difficult. Cats can do it, so what I want to know is, why can’t dogs? It’s not fair, is it?

I have decided that, if I ever get lucky and meet a squirrel in the garden when I am about my lawful business, I will be merciful. I’ve no wish to kill one. I rather like them. They may be the same colour as rats, but they are more interesting. Besides, one of them has been leaving me presents. Several times I have found some walnuts left out for me on the lawn. You have to be grateful when people or creatures give you presents. Otherwise they won’t bother another time.

I’m thinking about learning to work on a computer. It can’t be all that difficult. If I stand on the chair in front of Rob’s desk in his upstairs office I can put my paws on the keys. I tried it out once when no one else was in the room, and some funny squiggles came up on the screen. No one ever tried to teach me to read and write, so, up to the present, these memoirs exist only in my imagination. I bet they would turn into a best seller, if only I could master how to do it the human way.
P.S. I’m not usually allowed to go upstairs. For some reason nobody wants me to use their beds. I wonder why?
That’s all for now, folks!


20th November, 2008
I saw a gigantic dog whilst out for my morning walk this morning. Before I could react, (blind panic), Joyce took swift evading action. When I say "swift," that is just a figure of speech. She crawls like a snail. (Memo to other puppies: when choosing the person who is going to take the most important place in your life, it is a good idea to find one -if you can - who is on the young side.) Otherwise, you are forever having to slow your walking pace to theirs. This is entirely unnatural when you are young and full of beans.

Anyway, as I was saying, Joyce diverted our footsteps down the lane at the side of the pub until the danger was past. As I always say, it is better to be safe than sorry. It’s said that large dogs are more placid and easygoing than little ones like me, but I’m not taking any chances. When I see another dog which is the size of a mountain, I do what any sensible pooch would do - i.e. I scream and run. Well, I would run if it weren’t for the fact that I am usually constrained by a lead.
The highlight of my walk was meeting Angie. She can always be relied on to bend down and rub my tummy. Ecstasy! She understand Jack Russells, because her Lucy is one of the white ones of the breed. That is always great fun when it happens outside her house, since it drives Lucy mad to look out of the front window and see her mistress making a fuss of another dog.

My friend Liz was at the house when we got home. She comes once every two weeks to clean the house. It is a bit of a bind having the furniture shifted so that she can run the vacuum cleaner around. I personally don’t mind a bit of dust, but human beings are a funny about things like that. You have to forgive them their foibles so long as they remember to stop and give you a belly rub every so often.

Liz used to work as a secretary for a famous local man. What does an M.P. do, I wonder? Maybe she wouldn’t mind being mine. I could lie back and take it easy on the sofa, whilst she sat out of my line of vision, taking dictation. If Barbara Cartland could do that, why not me?
Nothing much else has happened so far, but the day is young. If anything else occurs which is interesting, I’ll get back to my writing. In the meanwhile, time for a snooze.

Later: I’m considering taking up work as a "private Eye."

Here’s a picture of me going "undercover!"

21st November, 2008.
`I’ve got nothing to say. It must be a severe case of writer’s block, writer’s blues, or writer’s cramp. In short, I’m bored.
We had our usual walk this morning, but it was completely uneventful. Apart from attempting to outstare a couple of cats who were lying near the path, glaring balefully at me, nothing of interest occurred. there wasn’t so much as a solitary seagull swooping down for its usual breakfast breadcrumbs to distract me. Often, there are dozens of the pesky things, all trying to deafen me with their unearthly screeching.

Oh yes, there was the usual black spaniel which we see most mornings, but it passed by on the other side of the road and didn’t show any interest in me. I ignored it as well. After all, two can play at that game.

I’ve heard of winter blues, but this is the first time it has affected me. In short, I am bored. The daylight is over before you know it, and nobody seems to want to take me for a run in the car followed by an invigorating scamper in the woods.

I’m beginning to see why some animals hibernate throughout the winter. I’ve a good mind to try it out for myself.
Excuse me if I stifle a yawn. Well, I may as well retire under my blue blanket, and snore the hours away. Wake me up in spring. Or when the postman comes. He would be upset if I didn’t greet him with my usual volley of barks.
A thought has just occurred to me. You may, if you wish, wake me up on Christmas Day. But not before the turkey is ready to be carved. I might even be tempted to sample a few mouthfuls of mince pie as well. After all, it would be churlish not to join in the festivities.
Now then, where’s that blanket?

22 November, 2008
So much for hibernating. I find myself waking up at the usual time in the morning and needing to go out into the garden. Then there is the matter of food. I do like eating. Don’t you? As I see it, dogs are not cut out for sleeping the winter months away.

Huskies are dogs, and they are raring to go when there is snow about, unlike polar bears which dig themselves a hole in the snow and curl up for the duration of the cold weather. It’s only when the ice thaws and they are able to go fishing once more (the bears, not the huskies), that they wake up. Now, where did I get that snippet of information from? Must be from one of those provoking natural history programmes about animals.

Joyce will be watching that "Strictly Come Dancing" programme tonight. I should have some fun, working up a lively game with some of my toys whilst she is trying to watch. She does get so annoyed with my barking when the programme is on and says that my voice stops her from hearing what’s on. That’s the whole idea of course. I like to keep people’s attention on me at all times, and you can’t have a really good game without barking, can you?
Later...

As previously mentioned, we watched "Strictly Come Dancing." Well, they watched; I performed. I do love that programme. It gives me a chance to have a really energetic workout with my house mates and an assortment of my toys. Oh we do enjoy ourselves, hurling them round the room and barking. Well they hurl. I bark. At times Joyce complains that she can’t hear the judges scores because of the noise I make, but that all adds to the fun.

25th November, 2008
I am getting really cheesed off with human beings. They are so unreasonable! I’ll tell you this....if it wasn’t for the free meals on offer, and a warm bed at night, I’d be off like a shot. Give me the wide open spaces, and my freedom, and I’d be in dog heaven.

Let me give you an example of what I am talking about, and I’m sure that you’ll agree that people are not only obstinate and opinionated, they are stupid too.
This morning Joyce and I set off as usual for our early morning ramble. You could hardly call it a walk. Old people seem incapable of walking at a decent speed. But that is the price we dogs must sometimes pay, in return for free bed and board.

Anyway, the smells on the grass and footpaths were of a particularly interesting nature, this morning, so naturally I sniffed. And sniffed. And sniffed.

That, apparently was the wrong thing to do. However, you can’t really get the best out of an early morning array of smells without stopping, gluing your nose to the ground, and taking in a good hard noseful. After all, there have been all sorts of creatures out and about whilst men and dogs are asleep, and there is nothing better than a dog’s nose for distinguishing the different aromas. They wouldn’t employ dogs to sniff out drugs if this wasn’t so.
The trouble is, when you (the dog, that is), are doing your bit of detecting, you need to keep your paws firmly anchored to the ground, and that, apparently doesn’t figure in your average human being’s calculations. As a result, I found that the lead was being pulled and jerked, with the idea of making me move on before I was good and ready.
That really riled Joyce. No patience, that’s her trouble. Then she did something which I detest. She poked my rear end with her walking stick. Not hard, but it made me jump, I can tell you. I’ve a good mind to report her. It’s so undignified to have something like that done to you.

Oh well, now that I have got that gripe out of my system, I feel a little better. I might even do a little squirrel watching. that’s quite a soothing occupation. When done from inside the house, I mean. What I really prefer is to be out in the wide open spaces where I can chase the little varmints up a tree.

Note to other dogs: that is really good fun. You ought to try it. Failing squirrels, you can always practice on cats!

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