Nicola Harrison with a tale of how their adopted dog found his voice and was transformed from a bad boy, to a model terrier (she hopes)
Day 5
Ding! Ding! That's Tyke trotting along. After yesterday's incident, I've given him a bell to warn small mammals of his approach. In fact I've given him two bells, just to make sure.
Day 7
Disaster! Tyke has killed Zadoc the budgie. The damn husband was right! I just popped out to buy a bottle of wine - and forgot to warn everyone that the budgie was out. Alas! When I came home five minutes later, Zadoc was no more. Poor, poor Zadoc, pounced on from behind as he ran across the kitchen floor to investigate some crumbs. Little did he know that terro was lurking for him in the shadows with a tinkling bell around its neck.
Week 2
No more killings to report, but this week Tyke did an extraordinary thing. He learnt to sing. It happened quite by accident. I was practising my scales when there was a black flurry of movememnt at the door and Tyke came flying through the air to land on the piano stool beside me. Then he wagged his tail, threw back his head and, well, started singing!
Week 3
The crime rate continues to fall, although I did find a massacred kiwi fruit hidden under his bed this morning. But all in all, Tyke has turned out well. Since he's found his voice he's been a mdoel dog - happy, stimulated and always ready to perform. The littel bete noire has been tamed by a couple of arpeggios and the odd run up the octave.
Week 4
With all the singing and music-making in our house, the deadline date for Tyke's return to Devon seems to have slipped by unnoticed.
So he's mine now.
Forever.
I now possess a small, black performing dog who massacres the occasional kiwi fruit but can otherwise do no wrong.
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