Allow me to introduce myself: I am Lugubrious Buck-Of-Arch. Although I have resided on this property for a very short time, The Chief Bitch who recently came under my ownership has commissioned me to fulfill some silly challenge issued by her friend Side View. I am to describe the life of my human clan and, much as I disapprove of talking behind backs, I feel that I must oblige.
Before I commence, I feel that I should make my readers aware that I share this domicile with other canines. There is a rompy, big lass of indeterminate breed; named (ridiculously) Lulubelle and a low-slung German chap; Fritzl Baasch, who is unfortunately afflicted with priapism. At the far end of the property, living with the Elder Upright, is a fat, old fellow of Maltese origin, whom we all do our best to ignore.
Until April, I lived by the sea with my Perfect Arch, but I was sent on an airplane one morning and collected at the airport and brought here by The Chief Bitch. I am unsure how long I am to stay, but – as places go – it’s not all that bad. Perhaps my Perfect Arch will join us in due course. The Uprights keep banging on about something called a funeral.
The food is quite good here and we’re given walks in the morning by The Uniped who takes care of things outdoors, but I’ve not seen him in the past few days. The Chief B says he has gone to a Hospital, perhaps they needed some help in their garden.
The Alpha Biped is of sterling character and he takes us for a run around the lake in the afternoon. The German laddie is not allowed to come along to the lake; he’s a bit free with his affections and will go off with just about anybody, even the tramps. I suspect he gets preferential treatment from The Chief Bitch while we’re out; yesterday he had a very telling scent of roast chicken about him when we returned.
The best of the bunch, by far, is The Child. Oh my, The Child! She can be relied on for stealthy rescue missions after dark; she lets us into her bed without The Chief Bitch being any the wiser. A nudge of my snout will have her fondling my ears for as long as I like and she’ll fling a stick as many times as I care to fetch it. I tell you, it’s a bloody strain to keep my dour demeanour when she gets in from school.
All in all, things could be a lot worse.