Summer is here and it occurs to me, as I bask in the warm grass, that I haven’t written for such a long time. This is because mischief is extremely time consuming. If I had a passport, my occupation would read Head of Mischief. I would work at the Ministry of Mischief and dogs would travel far and wide to attend my canine courses. I’ve seen human staring at her electronic square of boredom (it’s me who’s bored when she stares at it, not her, apparently). Sometimes I see her staring at TED Talks. They’re rubbish, except one that was about a dog. I have decided that I should start DOG Talks. They would all be about me, presented by me, and I would watch them over and over again.
If you must, go and watch my favourite dog themed TED Talk here… https://www.ted.com/talks/billy_collins_two_poems_about_what_dogs_think_probably
My mischief manifests itself in a variety of ways. I just call it living, or being me, but human seems to give it all more meaning than that. It’s funny. I often hear here telling others not to ‘overthink it’, but that is precisely what she’s doing with me.
For example, it was lunchtime one day, and human along with the smaller versions were sat around, with plates full of magical whiffs that made me wonder. She keeps on about always trying new things. She is a bore. I like old things. The whiff of an old thing is generally much more pungent than a new thing. A good pungent whiff can make your head fuzzy and your throat go tight, and can even make your belly fizz like a trip in the footwell of a fast car, yet it still makes you go back for another go. But not this day. A new thing with a whiff was where it was at! A new thing lay on that plate.
The small boy can often take ages to eat. Sometimes I don’t know if he’s slowed down so much I can’t see him chewing, or if he’s actually stopped. Either way, that whiff was driving me crazy. The tremble I sometimes get in my wonky leg was out of control. At last, I couldn’t stop myself. I had edged so close to the boy’s plate my nose was practically upon it. With one swift movement teamed with a powerful inhale, I sucked up what turned out to be a thing called soosheee. And it was heavenly. The shouting that surrounded me dulled, as all I could concentrate on was an explosion of whiffs on my tongue. What I’m saying is, I liked it.
Another time, when I was just being me, I found some wonderful toys left out for me (or so I thought). I’d seen human try to conjure up something with a ball of string and a little metal stick. Sometimes it would go well, and she’d photograph her piece of nonsense and sometimes it would go badly, and she’d say some bad words in a grumpy voice and fetch something to eat instead. On this day her strings (in lots of pretty colours) lay across a low table. The table is just at the right height for me to see what’s on there, so you can understand what an easy mistake this next bit would be.
No one was around. I thought that because they’d all desserted me, they’d left out this mass of stringy fun for me to play with. Another mistake apparently. I had the most fantastic stringy time and made much more interesting things than human ever did. But she doesn’t have an eye for such abstract beauty, and pulled my work apart and stuffed it (angrily) in a bag that I can no longer reach.
Mischeif is good. Mischief is fun. I recommend everyone dabbles in at least a little mischief. Even if it doesn’t make others smile, if it makes you smile, then that is enough.