JUST LIKE THE KIDS, MY DOG PRETENDS NOT TO HEAR ME IF THERE’S A SWIMMING ADVENTURE TO BE HAD “WILSON IS AN EVIL GENIUS. HE ONLY GETS LOST IF THERE’S SOMEWHERE FANCY TO GO”
The Adventures of Wilson the Wonderdog, Part Three. This week’s instalment in the merry life of Wilson the Wonderdog sees our hero swimming in a creek, as he loves to do, and then not getting out of the water when he is called, as he also loves to do.
I believe he has learnt this trick from the children, who – just as children have done since cave mothers used to yell, “Yog! Bogger! Come out of that rock pool this instant before that pterodactyl eats the both of you!” – pretend they cannot hear me when I ask them to get out of the pool.
I try to explain to them I know what they’re doing because I used to do exactly the same thing.
Since the dawn of time, the “not getting out of the water” trick is to submerge yourself completely just as your name is being called. Then, when you’re no longer able to breathe, shoot out from the water for a brief second, only to submerge yourself once more, so you can later claim “I didn’t hear you!”
This excuse, of course, completely negates the fact that while they may not be picking up the necessary audio signals, the sight of their mother standing beside the pool, shouting and emphatically pointing to land, might give them a clue. But no.
Anyway, there was Wilson the Wonderdog splashing about in the creek one moment, and then, when I called him, he was gone.
I did not panic. Instead I ambled on, secure in the knowledge that any second now my phone would ring and someone would tell me they had Wilson “at the cafe”, or “at my house enjoying a bone, I hope you don’t mind”, or “outside the restaurant just having a bowl of water”.
Wilson, I have come to believe, is an evil genius.
He only ever gets lost if there’s somewhere fancy for him to go. This is not a dog that finds himself at the end of the railway line. Oh, no; this is a dog that can sniff out the all-you-can-eat breakfast bar from a kilometre away.
And so, just as I knew it would, my phone rang. A woman said she did have Wilson, and she hoped I didn’t mind that she was just “drying him with the hairdryer” because, and I quote, “the poor thing was sopping wet”.
Yes, I wanted to tell her, it is because he has just been romping around in the doggie equivalent of Wet’n’wild, but no matter.
I went to collect him, and found him beautifully dry and eating a biscuit. It really is a dog’s life.