Hello. My name’s Bosun.

Bosun was a much loved family member. In his final days he asked me to write these last words for him as he was no longer able to use a pen. Mark Rutherford.

You have probably never read a story by a dog – but I’m no ordinary dog so get used to it!

I’m old.  I don’t feel it mind you.  I can still sniff out a treat, escape to the neighbours, scare off TV predators and drive the dog over the back fence crazy, but I know that the old ticker isn’t what it used to be and I run out of puff a bit early these days.

Being old gives me the right to look back on a full life.

For nearly nine years now I have been the master of the Rutherford Family.  I was brought in to look after Claire and Craig but my job increased over time and I now am responsible for the whole family.  

I guess an old dog should be grateful of promotion, but have you ever been responsible for two middle aged humans and a couple of teenagers?  No wonder the ticker ain’t what it used to be.

I met my young charges on Christmas Day 1995.  I’d spent a horrific night in a cardboard box in the upstairs bathroom before greeting them on the back porch.  My first job was to teach them to pick me up and make a fuss. I passed with flying colours and we had the best of first mornings.  I measure most things by food and/or warmth and Christmas Day 1995 (which was warm anyway) produced a lot of food snacks so I counted my first days training of the kids as an absolute success.

Humans don’t understand the joy of having your own scent everywhere.  They spend fortunes buying scents made by other people and used by millions so they all smell the same. Can you understand it?  Anyway my attempts to educate them about leaving your scent in strategic places around the house failed and I was forced to hold my water (and – ugggh – other stuff) until I was outside.  Sounds strange I know and every now and then over the years of my life I have left a strategic dropping to see if they have learnt; but I have to say – they haven’t.

Back to the early days.  It is no easy task being given the responsibility that was handed to me by my Mum – Gaycrest something or other (thank goodness she didn’t pass that one on!)  My kids seemed to want to do nothing but play. I mean, fair go – I was a puppy – a bit like teenage humans, we need to sleep. Eleven year old and 9 year old humans have no idea.  

To give you an example. After an exhausting couple of days they stuck this thing around my neck, attached a long lead to it and expected me to follow them.  

Purleeeze.  

I lay down and refused to walk and so learnt one of the most valuable lessons a dog can know.  MAKE THE PEOPLE DO THE WORK. I was picked up and carried for my first “walk”.

Over the next few weeks I got used to the idea of this walking particularly after I learnt how to raise a leg and spread my delicious scent over the local bushes.  The first couple of times were a trial and I have to say that the scent lingered on my foot rather than the intended branch.

Early on in walks I was asked to “sit” whenever we came to a road.  I’d look at the people with my most intelligent expression. I was trying to say “If you want me to sit, why don’t you?”  Never once did I see them sit down at the kerbside and it remains a mystery to me to this day why they would want me to sit.  I wasn’t tired, the burrs pricked my arse and no sooner had I sat down than they told me to “cross”. That was the only correct part of the whole procedure.  

Cross?  It made me bloody cross!

It was shortly after this walking episode that I began to realise how dumb my owners were, and I have to say I have exploited this weakness through my long life.  I feel sorry for them. Their sense of smell is only one fifth that of mine. Late in my life they would complain if I let one drop in the lounge room but who can blame them – they could only smell the bad stuff and missed the four fifths of pure, exquisite dog nectar.  But they weren’t smart enough to know this.

Early in my life we moved to a new home.  Such delicious smells and great neighbours.  I particularly loved the old fella over the back fence.  He wasn’t much fun for a young buck like me but his food bowl was always full and I found many ways to escape and help him to get through it.  His owner, Denise, obviously was on the lookout for a younger fella and encouraged me.

In fact this was another example of how dumb my owners are.  They bought a fearless, testosterone charged, mountain climbing, ditch digging superior pedigree dog and then could not understand how I managed to escape all the time.

I was born to it!  Duh

To this day they think that they prevented my escaping by putting up rocks ( and I know you will be horrified – by having me undertake a minor surgical procedure) but the reality is, I was looking for new levels of enjoyment.  I decided I’d get my kicks by taking my charges on walks in the local park (after the first few tries when I was very young I actually learned that it was they who wanted me to take them for a walk)

Now you have to understand that humans are different to we more intelligent types.  Normally I’d keep them on the lead for a while to make sure they were going to the places with the best smells and where there was a good likelihood to find food.  But when I let them off, they would just carry on walking in a straight line, round and round the park while I was left to do all the hard work of sniffing out treats.  Occasionally they must have had doubts and they’d call for me. I would often ignore them because I felt they needed to learn to be independent but eventually I’d go back to reassure them or even put them back on the lead.

So my middle years were a comfortable existence.  My charges would go out in the morning to whatever it was they had to do.  I must confess I worried about them so often anxiously kept a lookout at the window to make sure they all arrived home OK.  I know there are lot of bad dogs out there and I always felt better when everyone was home. It was a delight to see them when they got home and saw me on lookout duty.  Such smiles and praises and I often feel sorry for them because they haven’t got a tail to wag to show true appreciation.

During the day I’d keep an eye on things at home and spent a good bit of time keeping the lizards at bay in the back yard.  If it hadn’t have been for my efforts I reckon the backyard would by now have been infested by Goannas as the lizards grew up.

My adult mistress is a frustrated hairdresser and the public have a lot to be thankful about that she never fulfilled her ambition.  Judging by my bad hair days and the odd scar, she could well have been charged for a variety of offences had she ever practised on the public.  Still the difference between a good and bad haircut is only a couple of weeks and I did enjoy the coolness in summer.

I love my kids absolutely.  We have had some great times together and they are my brother and sister.  The things we talk about! They never fail to give me warmth and comfort (I alternate between their beds whenever I can) and we have fun fooling each other.  For example they think they can trick me into the tub for a bath – come on, I’m not that stupid but I get even with a good shake all over them after bath time.  But mostly what I like is that they always have a kind word for me and sometimes even speak up for me when the adult master is being a pain.

My adult master is a difficult bloke but we like each other in a strange kind of way.  He seemed to think that he was the boss and I suppose Gaycrest My Girl forgot to tell him the truth.  In the interest of family harmony and accepting that he is not as smart as me, I let him retain the illusion, as I do with the others from time to time.  I can be patient when I want to be and generally get my own way.

For example, just after I joined the family I was told I was an “outside dog”.  Now what does that mean? I was given a basket outside and told that was where I lived.  How ridiculous when there are comfortable warm beds inside. After I chewed through the basket and endeared myself in many ways my periods “outside” became of my choosing and I was an “inside” dog.  Same with the beds. I now choose my bed partner, though the adult master sometimes doesn’t seem to appreciate my bed warming efforts. He’s coming around though and I’ve trained him to be a very effective morning scratcher.  It is much easier to have him scratch around my ears and wipe the sleep out of my eyes than do it myself – particularly as I am not as flexible as I used to be.

Some of my favourite people are the grandparents.  You know what they say, looking after your own is a full time job, but with the grandparents you can just have a good time and hand them back at the end.  Nana and Grandad have an instinctive understanding of what a dog likes and we have spent many a wonderful hour breaking bread together whenever they visit.  It works both ways – I make a fuss of them and they make a fuss of me – why can’t all relationships be that way?

Gran and BB are great fun to go and stay with.  They have some great neighbours (with food!) and BB (who is as difficult as the adult master from time to time) pretends to only tolerate me but is the first to jump up at the suggestion I take him for a walk or down to the park near the sea (where I find lots of my mates also taking their people out for a bit of recreation)

I find myself approaching the end of my life.  I worry about my family – how will they manage without me.  I know they have their faith and a promise of everlasting life to look forward to.  But what about me? Is there a doggy heaven?  

Well, if you read this, I want you to know that I am a wise old dog and know the answer.  There are actually two doggy heavens. The first is heaven on earth and I’ve enjoyed a lifetime of it with you.  The second is the everlasting life I will enjoy in your memories

Your everlasting friend