Walkies

Every morning I walk Her Royal Highness, also known as Queen Munchkin (she has got the shortest legs you've ever seen) before I do anything else.


Her Ladyship lies in the hallway upstairs, barely opening her eyes and pretending to be asleep (she's got the whole IF I ONLY OPEN MY EYES A TINY SMIDGEN THERE'S NO WAY YOU WILL THINK I'M AWAKE AND I CAN STAY HERE WHERE IT'S WARM AND DRY thing going on) while I pull on my joggers and root around for some suitable footwear. She doesn't play dead well, though. As soon as you bend down and give her a rub behind the ears her tail thumps on the ground hard enough to cause another tsunami off of Sri Lanka. I head downstairs, and every single morning she lies there. I mean, she's just told me that she's awake with the thumpings of the tails but she still decides to lie there and pretend. Like a kid who cries for five more minutes once mama has switched on the light and told them to get up. As soon as I get downstairs and pick up her balls and scented nappy sacks (because MAN her crap stinks) and rattle the keys I can hear her literally jump up and bound down the hallway and the stairs before launching herself at me, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth like a crazy person, this insane LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! OPEN THAT DARN DOOR NOW! WHAT IF THERE'S SOMETHING OUT THERE FOR ME TO CHASE AND I'M SHUT UP IN HERE? look on her face. As soon as I open the door and she falls through and I follow. We play the same game every morning; once I've shut the door, I feign searching around the house for something that isn't there, avoiding all eye contact with with her, while she follows me, head cocked in a confused manner because OH SWEET JESUS ON A TWO-WHEELED VEHICLE, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR NOW? WE NEED TO GO FOR A WALK, LIKE, PRONTO LADY! Off we trundle, down the road to the park. She hates walking on a leash so we never use it. Instead she walks to heel, looking up at you every couple of steps just to check that you're still there.

Now, every day on the way to the park I see Mr Fox. He's a scrappy looking thing with an eye missing, and he's definitely a male because he has got the biggest testicles imaginable. I have seen ponies that he would outshine. HRH is usually too busy dodging puddles or sniffing where other dogs have peed to see Fox. Today, however, she spied him sitting on the sidewalk, looking directly at us. And she ran. She's not pretty when she runs, that's for sure. Her paws are too big and her legs are too short, and those ears that pick up a hundred channels from 35 countries? They seem to put her off balance too. This thing doesn't run, she lollops. Not at all feminine. She looks more like a baby elephant than a dog. So, there's my clumsy hound, chasing after this poor fox with one eye and half a tail, front and back hackles up as she tries to keep up because DARN THIS RED THING CAN MOVE! With her imaginary blinkers on, she refuses to listen to me calling her because this fox is obviously sooo important to her. Until it crosses the road and darts under a parked car, where HRH abruptly stops at the kerb. She may have become deaf for a few minutes, but she damn well knows not to go on the road unless i say she can.