Continuing in the vein of telling some of my story thus far, I arrive at one of my most trustworthy subjects for sympathy, the total and utter lack of holidays in the first couple of years I was living here.

I regularly point out to a number of pals that I hardly ever go for a holiday. If truth be known, I actually complain at anyone who will listen to me. My humans had been away a couple of times and I was put into kennels, which I call jail. How they couldn’t take me with them, I will never know.

The first time I was forced to go to jail was about 6 months after I arrived. They decided they were going off gallivanting to Edinburgh in May 2014 and couldn’t take me. So they devised a plot and told me I was going to a dog hotel and spa for a few days. It all sounded lovely. When I arrived at the kennels I was allowed off lead and ran around like a Beagle Harrier possessed. It was freedom on a massive scale as the enclosed field was about 2 acres. I was in my element and didn’t really notice that mum and dad had gone. It was only when the kennel people wanted me back in my cell (sorry my kennel), and I steadfastly refused to return, that I started to wonder. So the kennel people left my food in my bowl and I just played for the rest of the day, wandering dolefully back later to have the kennel door clang shut behind me. It only really occurred to me that mum and dad weren’t there when I woke up the next day and was still in my cell. I had my bed and a toy but I kind of missed the tickles and affection that I was becoming used to when I woke up at home. The only upside was that I met other furs and I got to run around quite a bit during the day. Ok thats 2 “upsides” but I am a beagle harrier and counting isn’t a strong point. Especially when it comes to biscuits as I can never have too many. I enjoyed being able to run around off lead and having the wind in my ears. However I was feeling a bit lonely to be honest. There was another beagle in a cell near me, and she told me that she had been there for about a month and was getting used to it. I didn’t want to be there that long, so I was hoping that mum and dad would be back soon.

When they eventually returned four days later (yes FOUR days!) I don’t think mum recognised me. I was sitting at the front of my cell, apologies again, my kennel, with my ears over my eyes looking very forlorn. I had seen them walk through the gate and knew I had to play the guilt card. Dad saw me and quickened his pace so I could go home with them. The guilt trip continued for a while longer, I have to admit, as I moped about when I arrived back home and didn’t really speak to them both for a day or so. I was very pleased ears to be back home but I tried to make sure that mum and dad knew I didn’t like kennels much.

Then they only went and did it again the following year. Dad was running in something called the London Marathon and he had been training hard through the winter. We went out in the car one day in April 2015 and I thought this was going to be a nice day out, that we would get a walk. Life would fine and dandy. How wrong could I possibly be? It was only when we arrived and I was out onto the driveway of the kennels that I realised that something was afoot. And it got worse as the kennel people remembered me from before and asked if I was the same dog who spent all my time running around instead of eating and sleeping like the other furs. They still let me run free when I got there, but this time I was keeping my eye on mum and dad. I was tricked though as they managed to leave without me knowing. Just because I was investigating a particularly interesting corner of the paddock, didn’t mean they could sneak away. Not in my book anyway. The jail people also had orders to walk me on the lead throughout my stay, which was very dull.

Dick Beardsley and Inge Simonsen (Joint winners of the first London Marathon in 1981)

Mum and dad returned after 2 days and this time I knew the guilt trip wouldn’t work. I couldn’t wait to get in the car and get home. When we did get back, I just raced around the garden, arooooing at the top of my voice and then leapt on all the furniture I could find. Within an hour I was asleep. They seemed pleased to see me again.

I hoped my prison days were over, and this was my home now. I was still waiting for my holiday though. I was more determined than ever now to not let them out of my sight when trips away were mentioned. I wanted some of the fun they were having.

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Enjoying life in my forever home. Sharing my contentment with whoever will read my tales. I live in West Sussex, UK.

4 thoughts on “Porridge”

  1. Oh Sir dex, my fur babes also go to the farm when we have to go away, but I am happy that they have happy ears when they see where they are going. I miss them when they are away, but it doesnt take long before they are up to their old antics on their return home.😂

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Scotland is a lovely place. Edinburgh is also really nice too, not that I would know as I wasnt allowed to explore it!! I am waiting for the all clear from this virus and then I shall pester them until I am allowed to go on holidays.

      Liked by 2 people

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