Yes, this is me, Freddie promenading in Garrucha. All of the other dogs here are tiny so I feel like a bit of a celebrity as everyone wants to stroke me and my master and mistress have asked me to tell my story.
This was my excellent life in England. Friends to walk and play with in the woods or by the river or in grassy fields. Ooh, how much do I miss GRASS!! I knew something was up when they took away my fur coat and made me have a bath. Actually, I thought I looked pretty good but my master couldn’t stop laughing at me. So, to wipe the smile off his face, I pooed in the hall! (that picture is my private collection).
The next day they put my bed in the back of the car. I thought I might have overplayed my paw when they put me in the car and then we drove and drove and drove and after what felt like two weeks in dog time, we stopped and they let me out so I could CML (cock my leg). We walked about a bit and played FTS (fetch the stick) and then they put me back in the car and I said ‘come on guys WTF!!’. But off we drove. This time is was a very short drive and when we stopped we were inside a big metal box.
I can tell you I was pretty nervous but my master and mistress were very happy and excited so I went along with it, right up to the point where they put me in a cage! I tried to get some sleep but the metal box was rocking and the little dog in the cage next to me wouldn’t stop yapping. All night long YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP, YAP! I so wanted to put my paw down his throat. Anyway, with the ‘yappy snappy’ next door and a touch of ‘mal de mar’, I only managed to doze. In the morning I met my ‘Jailers’ with THAT look.
They gave me my breakfast and a handful of treats, as if that was going to make up for the hell they were putting me through. But hell was still to come. I was so eager to get off the metal box, that I gladly jumped back in the car. Big mistake, huge mistake!
They drove for ‘days’ and once a ‘week’ they would stop and let me out so I could CML and then play FTS and then back in the car I would say ‘WTF’!
After what seemed like a month and when I thought things couldn’t get worse, the car hit this bumpy old road. Everything was shaking and my old bones rattling and then the car stopped. When my master opened the back to let me out, I couldn’t see him for the cloud of dust and my double vision and then the heat hit. No wonder they cut off my fur coat. They had moved to hell and brought me along without consultation!
My new home was to be an old house in the middle of the desert with not a blade of grass insight! Thanks SO much!
Many doggy years later and I have grown fond of my new life in the desert! In summer, I have regular haircuts and swim in the pool plus the occasional ice cream and ice cubes to keep me cool. I prefer it when the weather cools down and the grass briefly appears and we promenade a lot by the beach and eat in cafes! I get tit-bits and lots of fuss made of me.
And then we go home to our rambling old house with a big garden to explore and see my doggy neighbours.
Life in this strange land is not so bad after all!
For any dogs thinking of moving out here, watch out for my occasional tips on ‘living the Spanish life and barking at sunset’ !