A Life in the Day of Archie

I cannot decide whether or not I am a dog lover.

This is the sort of problem that I have the inclination to mull over now that I work only part-time.

Here I am with my dog, apparently relaxing at home. Note the dog’s stare. Note how joyful I look. Note the shrivelled leafless plant in its pot.

By the way, I say “apparently”, because I mean “apparently”. As regular readers of this blog know, we were acquired by a whippet some four years ago. Archie is the successor to our much loved literary whippet, Hamish, who died at the ripe old age of fourteen. Hamish was easy going and laid back. Archie is different.

A few weeks ago, a friend sent us a cartoon about a dog called Archie. For copyright reasons, I will not reproduce it here, but it is simple to describe: A man is sitting on his chair, rather like the human above. Out of his mouth comes a speech bubble saying:

“Now what do you want, Archie? I’ve smothered you with love and attention and affection and adoring hugs and kisses and strokes and cuddles and kisses all morning.. “

At his feet his dog is thinking through a thought bubble:

“It wasn’t enough”

This sums up well the relationship we have with Archie.

In this picture you can see it all. The soulful eyes, the pleading expression, the silent request “More, more, more” – the “more” could refer to food, games, ball throwing, walks, love; in fact, any of the many exhausting pleasures enjoyed by a dog.

Not all readers of this blog are dog lovers. I understand that. For many years I myself resisted being owned by a dog and, as I say, I am still not sure if I fall into the category of dog lover. This is partly because our dog’s day consists of a constant psychological war of attrition with his humans. Whippets rarely bark, so he uses a combination of the unnerving whippet stare, his compulsion to live to a strict routine and his unending state of canine adolescence to ensure that he has full control over his human servants.

This is his typical day.

Early morning: At the same hour each day, Archie expects to hear the rattle of breakfast dropping into his bowl. After he has eaten it and while his humans are trying to enjoy their own breakfast, Archie wanders around aimlessly, anticipating his morning walk, occasionally staring hard and reproachfully at his humans. If the walk is delayed slightly, he drops balls on the floor and squeaks his toys repetitively. If the walk is delayed excessively, he whimpers pathetically and stands in the hallway staring dismally at the front door.

Morning: Archie has a walk with one of his humans. This is an opportunity for him to sniff things, meet other dogs, disobey commands, scavenge detritus from the forest floor or pick up bits of stale sandwich and other carelessly dropped human food. If the sun is shining on his return home, he expects to find a bed laid out for him in the garden. If this is not done, he cultivates a mournful expression, stares hard and accusingly at his humans, whimpers or squeaks his toys repetitively once more.

Mid-morning: Archie greets the postman who, long since defeated by the whippet stare, drops a biscuit into his gaping jaw.

Afternoon: Archie must have another walk with one or both of his humans (see “Early Morning” above). On his return home he trots straight to the kitchen and stares mournfully at his bowl until the crunchy rattle of dog food announces the arrival of his tea. After he has eaten his tea, Archie joins his humans and stares reproachfully at them to ensure that they do not spend too long drinking their tea. This behaviour, with its accompanying whines and whimpers, is an indicator that it is time for his biscuit, followed by some ball throwing and a chew.

Evening: Archie takes his ease in one of his beds, practises his various mournful expressions, mulls over his day and contemplates ways in which he can continue to keep his humans on a tight rein, while disobeying their every command. Look again at that first photograph. Look at Archie’s stare. You should now be able to understand that we are only “apparently” relaxing.

Am I a dog lover? You decide.