Oscar waiting at home by the door
Today, I hit a new low or high? in dog ownership. I usually work at home so Oscar gets plenty of attention.All day.Not so this morning…I had an appointment at 11:30 so He left for work at half eight as per norm, and then I skipped to the train station at 10.00. I waved Oscar goodbye, gave him a GINORMOUS rawhide chew (as big as one of his own legs) to settle into and bid him a second fond farewell by rustling his beard, which he shrugged off in an embarrassed teenager way.
I didn’t give him another thought all the way through my meeting.I didn’t think about him at all whilst devouring a mutant scone in the department store’s “terribly nice” cafe.I didn’t even think of him as I slathered over the new collection of See by Chloe handbags just in, or the delicate mink-coloured Russell & Bromley sandals I eyed covetously through the window.It wasn’t until I set foot onto the station platform,awaiting the 12:40 home that I buckled.
A mother stepped off a train with 2 children in tow, one blissfully licking an ice cream, which he wore on his face like a mud pack, and the other displayed a jutting out bottom lip that can only be described as shelf-like. In fact, if I’d had a coffee in my hand, I’d have been tempted to rest it there while I rummaged for my purse.Anyway,as all 3 passed by, I heard the mother saying, “Now look here, Lucy, I’m not at all happy with your behaviour this morning, and it’s only the FIRST day of the school holidays, so if you want anymore ice creams and outings you’d better not be mischievous and naughty again!” Well! The “M and N” of bad behaviour sent warning bells to my shell-likes and I immediate saw Oscar swinging from the light fittings in the bedroom, sliding down the bannister in the hall,and pulling feathers out of the cushions in the living room.I envisaged returning home to find a DIY explosion,rather than a house.I felt sick and then… suspicious.
So what did I do? I called home. Yes, I actually called the dog to see if everything was alright at home.I telephoned the house, and left him a message telling him to “be a god boy, not to get up to mischief, and that I was returning within the hour.” To anyone else on that platform I was just a mother, checking up on their child. To you and me…well I’d lost the plot. And what would I have done if he’d answered?
The St Leonards Hairy Houdini 