Diary of a Bad Boy

Let me tell you about a real Scottie. I’m 6 years old and they say I’m “mad, bad and dangerous to know”. And they’d be right! I don’t like humans too much, because so far, humans haven’t treated me well.

I’m quite small, and hairy. I have short legs, but my teeth are large, and I know how to use them. I stand for no nonsense from anyone. My first home I had was with a family who seemed to like me well enough, as they gave me plenty to eat. I could have done with a bit more attention and fussing, but it didn’t happen. Nonetheless, I seemed to fit in well enough with my family, till they found out that a baby was coming. I think that’s something like a puppy, which made me quite excited, but it turned out that I wasn’t to be trusted around it, for fear I might treat it badly. As if I’d hurt a puppy!

Anyway, I was banished to the kitchen, while the rest of the family ooed and aahed over this small bundle which smelt quite messy, but interesting! I never got to meet it, far less play with it, as the first time I was near it I growled a bit, just to show it who was boss, as any youngster like me would do. I was smacked and put to sleep in the shed. I say sleep in the shed, but what I really mean is kept there, as I wasn’t allowed into the house again.

The hardest part of my life followed, as I very seldom got out for a walk or a play. Sometimes I was taken out on a short lead, but no rushing about after toys, or other dogs to talk to. I wasn’t hurt or treated cruelly, but I was lonely. My only real excitement was my food which did come regularly, and I think I got a bit overweight.

All this changed abruptly. To cut a long tale short, I escaped one day. I went looking for mischief, found it, bit it, and ended up in bad trouble! The thing was; I was frightened by what was happening around me once I was out in the real world. Everything was strange – the noise, the smells, and there was nothing I understood or felt good about. I wasn’t sure what to do, or where to go. Someone came up to me and said something I didn’t understand – he put his hand out to me. Was he going to hurt me? I wasn’t chancing it! I snapped at him, and he felt the result of my big teeth! I escaped the stranger’s shouts, running down streets, over bridges, through gardens: anywhere that could get me away from the noise and the shouting.

Night came, and I was hungry, afraid and lonely when my owner found me. I thought that everything would be fine now, but into the shed I went. No supper either! In the morning my owner took me to the vet, told him I was dangerous, and then used a phrase I didn’t understand, but which frightened me. He said I should be “put down”.

The vet thought otherwise, and I got my first real break in life. I was handed over to STECS, an organisation for dogs like me! I was collected by a lady who was kind, though businesslike, who took me to a place with several other dogs. One of them came a bit close…

“Snap” went my jaws again, but this time he bit me back! It was frightening, but I thought instead of adopting full fight mode, perhaps I should just lie low to see what would come next. Things happened very fast after that: bathing, trimming, and an embarrassing weigh-in! The lady thought that I was a bit fat and called me “Fat Boy Slim”, a name I hated. I wasn’t really sure what my name was, though I think I heard the word “Mac” being said about me.

I was quite happy with this lady, and gradually got to know the other dogs, and was well fed, though the portions were smaller than I was used to. Just when I thought that things had settled down, and I could maybe even stir up some excitement, I was whisked off in a car, to yet another house. Not that I was there for long. A lady with a strange accent arrived. Was she a foreigner? I could barely understand her! I was put into the back of her car, and off we went for a long journey. I admit, I was very afraid, and thought it best just to bide my time.

Hours later, the car finally stopped and all was quiet, and I mean really quiet. I could hear no traffic, no shouting, no music: nothing but wind and driving rain. A light shone from a solitary house, and I heard a cacophony of barking. Two dogs (slim versions of me!) charged out, and, seeing the rain, rushed inside again. I followed their example, and found myself somewhere more sheltered, where more dogs waited. “Time to keep a low profile” I thought! Putting my best paw forward, I wagged my way inside. There was another woman there who seemed to be prepared to treat me with some respect, though again, she was hard to understand, so I thought I’d just be a bit cautious.

It turns out I’m in Scotland, of all places, at a house by the sea and very little else. Seems I’m now to call this godforsaken place “home”, and share it with no less than three other Scotties. One’s an old girl: you’d call her handsome rather than attractive, who pays me no real attention. There’s another old dear, who seems friendly enough, though a bit vague, and a young lad my age: a handsome fellow, and very full of himself. I think he’ll need some sorting out! Shouldn’t be difficult – he’s a real country hick who’s always been spoilt. I’ve been given a new name, too, which I’m quite embarrassed about, so I won’t tell you it!

Suffice to say, I’ve heard the woman who lives in this house refer to me as being a bad boy. A bad boy?! I’ll soon show her what a bad boy really is! I’m a Liverpool Lad, and I’m not taking any nonsense from some Northern Girlie! Her other dogs might like her now, but careful planning can change that!

Speak to you soon!

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