My Name Is Jeff

I'm not quite sure what's happened to me these last days. I was having a lovely time at my Master's Wife's Parents' house, running about with their old labrador, Bella. My Master's puppies were also there, getting very excited about some more shiny boxes that were given to them by a bearded man who I think I've met before. He seems nice, anyway, giving me a good tickling right in behind my ears.

Sorry, let me introduce myself. My name is Jeff. I am a brown, medium-to-large sized dog. I'm not sure what kind of dog I am. I'm certainly no recognisable breed. I'm not posh. I'm a dog-of-the-people. I come from a wide, varied range of canine bloodlines, but there's certainly hound in me, perhaps some Weimaraner along the way. At least, I like to think so: I consider myself a skilful combination of the finest dog traits, culled from the very best of breeds. Others consider me a mongrel. But I shan't let that bother me.

I live in the countryside. It's a nice little town with a river, and a lovely church in the middle. People are very friendly and there aren't too many of them. The air is pretty clean around here, and there are lots of open, green spaces for me to run about in with my Master, his Wife and their Puppies. I know all the local dogs, and they know me. I'm known as a nice guy, feisty when need be, but generally stiff-upper-lip and all that. I'm not one for too much fuss.

I sensed that something exciting was on the horizon. My Master and the Bearded Man start collecting up my things - my bed, my bowls, a bag of mixer and a couple of cans of Chum. My bones, my lead and my collar were chucked into my basket, and finally my grotty old ball. Master and Beard took it all outside, where a small, black car was being loaded with all my personal effects. The soft liner for my bed was taken out and put in the boot - I assumed this was my cue - and I jumped in after it and sat there. Beard shut the boot, and everyone smiled and tapped the window at me. It was quite cosy in here, but very comfy, too.

I got out again when Beard opened the boot, and then the Animals were saying goodbye to each other, kissing and wishing each other good things about holidays and something called a Honey Moon, but I'm not exactly sure what that is. It must be something to do with alcohol, as this morning every Animal I've met has reeked of it, and with my sensitive nose, it smells like a hospital corridor. Really gets in the back of the throat, stings the eyes.

Beard and his Wife went out to the small black car, and we all got in, me first, of course. Beard locked the back door behind me - he said something about falling out at speed on a motorway, and I thought it best to protect myself against this terrible-sounding demise. Such was the fear instilled in me by the mere mention of any possible contretemps, that I lay down for most of the journey. The only times Beard could even see my head over all my stuff on the back seat, was when the rear window washer and wiper sprang into action. I tried to lick the water running down the window, but I think it must have been on the other side. So I gave up.

All the way, the radio played on Radio Four, which I found very entertaining. I'm always amazed by the different sounds of human voices. I mean, us dogs have a pretty good vocabulary, and lots of different accents, but nothing to beat humans. Some humans seems to have trouble identifying other human's words or accents - you don't get that 'lost in translation' thing with us hounds. We have a global lingua franca. However, the Beard and his Wife didn't seem to be communicating at all, until we got to wherever it is that I've now come.

I was let out of the car, and found myself in a big, concrete pound full of cars. Beard made sure I didn't run out of the open gates, so I weaved in and out of all the parked cars, investigating every corner of the place. There were a couple of weedy-looking trees there, which I duly sniffed and marked.

The Beard then got me and tied me to a post of some sort, while he sorted out all my stuff, and all of his stuff, out of the car. He made a couple of journeys into the big building, then finally came back and untied me from the post, and took me inside.

It was big in here. There were corridors and doors everywhere, and what a load of scent! I was picking up at least twenty distinctly different smells; they can't all be in one pack? When Beard - who I'll now call Temporary Master, as he's more than just a beard - started ushering me up the stairs, I hesitated. Going upstairs usually means I'm about to get shouted at, maybe even a walloping on my hindquarters. But, he insisted, and so I followed him. I hoped it wasn't a trick.

We went up and up - I'm sure even Master's house doesn't have this many stairs - and finally we turned left and into a smaller vestibule. Temporary Master opened a door, and I scooted in. The first room on the left had my water bowl and a big parcel in there, as well as my cans of food and bag of mixer. Temporary Master took me into a much bigger room, with lots of things in it, including my bed, blanket, toys and bones. It looks like this is where I'll be staying. Finally, he took me to the other rooms, and told me that I was not to go in them. He made this quite clear.

Just as I thought everything was getting settled, suddenly Temporary Master and his wife are barking at each other like crazy! There's so much barking, I was sure someone was going to bite, and then Temporary Master's wife kicked him! I had no idea what was going on, so sat in my bed and kept my head down. Temporary Master told her to go outside - I dunno, maybe she'd wee'd on the floor or something, and then there is door-slamming, followed by door-beating. Temporary Master opens the door and tells her to stop. Thankfully, the banging did stop, and Temporary Master came back in the room, sat down and began to howl. His eyes were wet, as wet as my black nose.

After a while of howling and sniffing - I'm not sure what was going on here - Temporary Master got up and walked past me. Of course, I thought I'd done something bad, and skulked a little as he went past. Temporary must have seen me do this, as he came down to me and said that it wasn't anything I'd done, which I was very relieved about. He stroked me and cuddled me, and scratched me behind the ears and all the way down my sides and back. I think he must have had a dog before, sometime. He has a very soothing voice, very tender when he's comforting me, not that I needed comforting anymore, I realised. He went to the kitchen and came back with a biscuit-shaped thing, but it seemed that this was biscuit with chocolate. Wow. Yes, please. It didn't even touch the sides.

I soon realised that Temporary was tired. I guessed it had to do with the big barking session, and so I curled up in my box while Temporary grabbed some sofa time. While he slept, he made funny noises that sounded like fear, or worry, and he made lots of quick, jerky movements. The TV was on - dunno what, don't care, can't really see it anyway - and I just slumbered, comfy in my box by the high window, from where I could look down on what was happening below.

It's a strange place, this. Not the house, though I do want to know where all the other rooms and floors are - the building is much bigger than the bits I've been in. But the house is fine. Nice and spacious. Room for football, which is good. It's very warm, too, and Temporary keeps some funny things in a big box of water. It's too high for me to get to, but the things in there are looking at me.

What's strange is outside. It's very different to what I've come to expect. Where I come from - and I'm not one hundred percent sure where that is, exactly - there's lots of grass and trees. There are cars and people, but it's all quite quiet and sleepy. This place feels like the Big City. There is no grass, and there are few trees. The noise from the cars, the buses, the aeroplanes, the sirens, the helicopters hovering overhead - it's crazy here. My senses are being assaulted.

While he sleeps, I watch some telly - it all seems to be pretty dull to me, but then the Chrismas schedule is always painful, isn't it? After a couple of hours snoozing, Temporary wakes up, leaps up and makes my dinner. Before he does that, he gets the big, shiny parcel from the worksurface, and puts it on the floor. He tells me it's for me, and so I start sniffing around it, and clawing it a bit to see if there are any edges I can grab. I can't, it's too shiny and slippy. Temporary pulls a corner for me, and I grab the bit with my teeth and pull. A great strip of paper comes of in my mouth, and Temporary helps me with the rest.

A new set of bowls. Not just ordinary bowls, but a lovely, black-stained wooden stand, with two removable stainless steel bowls. Easy to remove and clean. Classy when at table. I like their style, whoever got me these. I think it might be from Master, his Wife and their Puppies - but I'm not sure. I'll ask them when I get back from my holiday. In the meantime, I want my dinner.

Beard clearly knows what he's doing. Cleverly, he holds the two cans of Chum out for me - one was chicken, the other lamb - and asked me which one I wanted. I really did fancy lamb tonight, so I pointed to the can and Temporary got on with the job. First, he scraped out all the lovely lamb into my new bowl, before adding a mugful of mixer. A quick dash under the tap, and he mushed it all up good and proper. He was so excited, making me my dinner, that he flung two bits of mixer onto the floor, which of course I ate.

Finally, he puts the bowl down into the wooden stand. He's asked me to sit and wait. I am doing. I look at him, and do that inquisitive/cute thing with my eyebrows. Works every time, this one. Sure enough, Temporary cracks a big smile at my schtick, and lets me at the bowl with a simple Go on, boy! He leaves me to wolf down my chow.

I come back in to the room and lie back down in my bed. He's quite strict this Temporary Master. He's told me I can't go in TWO rooms, and refuses to entertain me on the sofa. I'm gonna stick to his rules, otherwise he might forget to feed me or walk me. Not that this was a problem right now: fully fed and feeling full, he appears with my lead and collar, and puts his coat on. And we head out into the night.

It seems a bit shady, where Temporary Master lives. It's very busy, with lots of cars and lots of people. We walk up a long road behind a main noisy road. There are lots of people scurrying, looking and smelling a bit shifty to my well-honed doggy senses. Temporary Master doesn't seem to mind, so I don't mind. But I'm on my guard. This is foreign territory.

As we walk, I'm checking out all the scents. Lampposts, trees (when I see one!), walls, car tyres, the place is covered with messages, and I must say, their tone is much more aggressive. Where I come from, messages tend to be genteel missives, written by countryside dogs with nice owners. Many of the scents here seem to be almost like graffiti - they are short, sharp messages often with short, sharp swear words in them. I'm not sure I like the smell of the local dogs. Best be on my guard.

We walk up to another big road, and we turn right. Temporary has mentioned something about Nando's, whatever that might be, and he seems to be looking for somewhere to tie me up. All the posts around here are right by the road - he needs to find something set back, otherwise I'll be in the road. We get to a cinema, and he ties me to the bottom of the big sign telling everyone what films are on inside. He tells me he'll be two minutes. I sit and wait.

He's back in 30 seconds, muttering something about his bloody wallet, and he unties me and we walk on. He's taking me down the block, in the spitting rain and cold wind. On the other side of the road, an athletically-built man with a shaven head is walking his athletically-built, short-haired dog. It is, of course, a Staffordshire pitbull terrier, and I can smell him from here. His Master is keeping him in check, though, and our paths don't cross.

Temporary crosses the road and we walk up another back alley, very dark and moody. A woman is walking towards us and scurries past, keeping her eyes fixed on me the whole time. Seems a lot of people around here don't like dogs, which is weird. Where I come from, everyone loves dogs. There are loads of them about. We all know each other, and leave funny jokes and political musings on all the trees around the town and countryside for each other to read. We are one big, adopted pack. A real virtual doggy community noticeboard.

Once we get to the end of the lane, I spot another person, but I can't tell if it's a man or a woman. It has long blonde hair, and a belt with chains hanging off it, as well as a rucksack. It could be a prostitute, I thought, but then, suddenly, it looked like a very thin man. He/she/it wandered around seemingly quite aimlessly, and certainly kept looking over at me. What a confusing place the city is! Men look like women, people scurry keeping their heads down, and they all seem to use cars, everwhere. It's like one great, big road.

We turn the corner and we're back. I recognise the place immediately, and Temporary opens the doors and we head inside. I reckon it's about 8pm, and Temporary gets on his computer and does some typing, while the TV blares unwatched in the background. I'm back in my bed - my new Master has made it quite clear that that's where I may lie, or the floor. I cannot go in his bedroom, or his toilet. Only the living room and the kitchen, and the hall. He's clear with his instructions, so I'll follow suit.

He watches some telly, messes about with some music and his computer, and finally starts yawning himself. I've been curled up in my box, dozing, for an hour or so, when he suddenly jumps up and puts his coat on again, and gets my lead. Stretching myself out before our departure, we head down and out onto the street, where the slicing rain is still coming down, and the wind has built up even further.

He takes me across the street to a small bit of grassy bank, with some trees built in to make people think it's the countryside. We wander around the bank, walking left and right and left again, and I leave some messages on several trees. Temporary seems to be inviting me to take a crap, but I don't need one, so I just let him know.

I'm guessing it's about midnight. People are still walking around, lots of them, but many cross the street from Temporary and I - they seem nervous. They certainly smell it. The way they hold their bodies tells me that nervousness is a key part of living around here. Lots of people are doing it, everywhere I look and smell. It hangs in the air like smoke.

Temporary finally gets the message that I will not be crapping this evening, and he takes me back to the house. We got in and up all those stairs again, and into the living room. One by one, he turns off the lights, including the box with the water and the things in it. Before the last light goes out, he goes through to the kitchen and starts clanking my bowl about. I don't need telling twice when I hear that sound, and I'm soon at his side.

I sit down, wagging my tail and doing the eyebrow thing again. He opens the fridge and takes out the milk, and pours a decent splash into my bowl. While I get down to some seriously concerted lapping, he's clearly opening some kind of rustly packet behind me. I stop, and he has what looks to me very much like a biscuit in his hand. He asks me to sit again, and I do.

He breaks the biscuit into four bits, and feeds them to me one by one. As he gets each piece near my mouth, he says something odd, something I've never heard before. It sounds like jay-jay, but said quite quickly, with short syllables. It comes out je-je. It's a very soothing sound, and I gently take each piece from his hand, one by one. I don't understand anyone who thinks all dogs are bitey.

Once I've scoffed the biccies, I finish my milk - there's just enough to wash down that chocolatey biscuity loveliness - and Temporary takes me back into the room. He gives me another good tickle in behind me ears, and kisses the top of my head. He says goodnight, and turns out the final light and closes the door.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring? I can't wait to see what it all looks like in the light. Good night for now.