Charlie

Charlie

Memoirs of a dog

For Léna, Louise and Anaé

But faring on, he spies

A galled spot on the mastiff’s neck.

What’s that? he cries. Oh, nothing but a speck.

A speck?—"Ay, ay: ’t is not enough to pain me:

Perhaps the collar’s mark by which they chain me."

"Chain! chain you! What! Run you not, then,

Just where you please and when?"

Not always, sir; but what of that?

"Enough for me, to spoil your fat!

It ought to be a precious price

Which could to servile chains entice;

For me, I’ll shun them while I’ve wit."

So ran Sir Wolf, and runneth yet.

The wolf and the dog – Jean de la Fontaine (Extract)

1

Charlie is my name, given to me a long time ago by a little girl.  It’s nearly twelve years now.  People say that to work out the human age of a dog you take the number of years he’s lived and multiply by 7, which tells you I’m old.

I only vaguely recall the house where I was born.  But I do remember a huge, dark room whose outline was barely perceptible to my new-born eyes.  It smelt of leather and it was full of strange sounds.  I particularly remember a big wicker basket in which I spent most of my time sleeping, snuggled up to my mother’s soft, warm tummy along with my brothers and sisters.

Mummy was a thoroughbred Labrador Retriever.  Her ancestors had worked for deep-sea fishermen in a country far away, before migrating to Britain and conquering continental Europe.  They prospered for several decades there and our mother would say with some pride that we came from a noble line.  We would have known a life of luxury if the world hadn’t gone through a time of crisis and upheaval.  I’m not able to give you the details, but I know that at some point in our history our family had to resign itself to life with less fortunate masters.  So, when I was born, we were living more modestly than our ancestors, but that didn’t stop us being happy.  Mummy was gentleness personified.  She radiated a warm, sweet fragrance like toffee, a fragrance still engraved in my memory.  Like the good mother she was, she lovingly gave us little puppies the care we needed, rewarding us with tender licks while our sightless muzzles clumsily competed for the favours of her breast milk.

When the more adventurous amongst us plucked up the courage to leave the wicker basket, she always stayed by our side, closely watching our every move, protecting us from unknown dangers lying in wait.  It should be said that during our blissfully happy infancy, the slightest thing was an excuse for exploring and we made a point of chewing everything we came across, test anything new to our little mouths.  Plastic bottles, corks or bits of cloth rarely remained unscathed because we had to check if they were edible and there’s little doubt that some of us would have choked or been electrocuted if our mother hadn’t kept a close eye on us.  When one of us attacked an electrical plug, tried to sink their teeth into a chair leg or nipped a timid sibling too hard, she didn’t hesitate to muzzle him out of the way, making him understand that this was inappropriate behaviour.

When it came to exploring and getting up to mischief, I was up there with them.  I’ll never forget the day I launched myself into some lined curtains where I could sink my sharp little teeth.  I ended up swinging pathetically on the end of a piece of fabric unable to free myself without the master’s intervention, which got me my first smacked bottom.  But that’s how it was.  From the day I could walk I had a strong urge to explore the world.  Don’t get me wrong though, when I say world I mean the single room in which my siblings and I were allowed to run around, because in the early days of my life I didn’t suspect for one moment that there was a world outside.

2

For humans, it seems natural to be with their father, mother and siblings throughout their existence.  Even if distance sometimes separates them, most feel the need to stay in contact with their family throughout their life.  Like us, humans have always had a great appetite for communal life.  However, as I soon had to realise, what’s possible for humans is not necessarily so for dogs.

Like most of my fellow dogs, I never knew my father and was separated from my mother when I was only a few weeks old.  To this day I keep intact the memory of those rare and precious moments I lived by her side.  Man is dog’s best friend fellow creatures will reiterate, and I don’t doubt that for an instant, because humans raise and feed us, they provide us with affection and cuddles.  So, they must love us, but all the same you have to admit that their behaviour when we’re born is very strange.  In fact, what could be worse than separating a child from its mother when it’s no more than a toddler?

The first time I saw this happen, one of my brothers was the victim.  That day, our family was all excited because our masters received a visit from strangers and we discovered for the first time that beings lived somewhere else, a place we had never suspected existed until then.  They were a very respectable older couple.  The gentleman observed us at length, then picked each of us up and examined us carefully, as if looking under our coat for a label proving our pedigree.  The lady and gentleman pointed at us deliberating, they tested the reactions of some of us, hesitated a moment, had another discussion and finally left carrying off one of my siblings.  I hadn’t been able to understand what they’d been saying to each other because I hadn’t yet mastered the human language.  However, the fact remains that were never to see our brother again.

This distressing scene was repeated several times.  After each departure our mother anxiously would look under her bed for the little one who had just left us as if she were hoping that he’d come up with the bright idea of hiding to escape being kidnapped.  In the end, however, she was forced to accept the sad reality: her children were disappearing one after the other.  Mummy knew better than us, no doubt, that this drama was unavoidable, but she took care to hide her anguish and not add to ours.  After each disappearance her affection increased for those who remained, and we could never get enough of her loving attention.  We would jostle each other against her flanks, making the most of the short time left to us together, as if we were reluctantly taking part in a race we knew we would lose.

I soon realised that the puppy kidnappers took most interest in the playful amongst us.  Consequently, I decided to look sullen and sulky when new visitors arrived.  I would stay in my basket and refuse all contact with them, faking a brooding and unpleasant nature.  When one, driven by curiosity, picked me up, I took the opportunity to empty my bladder.  He would immediately put me down and leave more quickly than he’d arrived, probably to try rescuing the beautiful cashmere sweater I’d just soiled.  This strategy worked so well that shortly after the beginning of this series of abductions I was the last one to remain with my mother.  The next people to appear observed me doubtfully for several minutes and ended up concluding that my behaviour was due to a rare illness or hereditary degenerative disorder.  They weren’t keen on investing their money in a sickly dog with a short life expectancy and left empty handed.

I thought I could escape the kidnappers forever and I was beginning to rejoice at the thought of spending my whole life with my mother when new visitors appeared.

They were a young couple with a little girl who smelled of vanilla.  Whilst I lay stretched out on my cushion, trying, as usual, to look as limp as possible, she crouched down and began to stroke me.  Her parents leaned over her to have a look at me and were quickly overcome by doubt.  This little animal must be very sick to stay so still and unresponsive to our little girl.  They looked at each other to decide who was going to speak, and the father finally began:

Marie, this puppy doesn’t seem to me to be in good health, look how lethargic he is.

No daddy, that’s normal, he’s still a baby!  He’s so cute! Marie swiftly retorted, sensing the need to challenge her father’s scepticism.  He looked at his wife begging to be rescued.  Marie’s mummy, who had first frowned at the sight of me, now smiled blissfully, watching her little girl cuddling me.  She snapped out of her reverie and tried to support her husband with a show of solidarity.

You know love, I think daddy’s right.  This little dog doesn’t seem to be in good shape.

But mummy it’s only because he’s still very small!  We’ll care for him and feed him, so he gets stronger and I’ll look after him really well!  Daddy, mummy, you promised!  Please!  Please!  Please!

The little girl had stood up, hands clasped to her heart as if praying,  looking pleadingly at her parents.  Above her big blue eyes, blonde eyebrows formed a perfect arch and beneath her snub nose her lips pursed with the promise of a kiss.

This little Marie was persuasive.  I was only too aware of what was in store for me if her parents gave in, and I kept one eye on the scene with growing concern.  When the mother looked up at her husband, I knew immediately that she was backing down.  It was as if she wanted him to be the one to announce this decision on which the happiness of their daughter depended.  She said nothing, to allow him to think he could still choose, to protect the male ego of the family, but also so that he could take credit for this decision in the eyes of his daughter.  Her silence spoke of love and self-denial which I thought showed a mysterious strength and irresistible power.  Despite everything, I wanted to keep believing that this man could resist, and I prayed that he would be strong, but it wasn’t easy now that both his wife and daughter’s eyes were on him. As I was later to discover, to my cost, the two she-devils were using one of the greatest powers in the universe, a power to which both man and dog are subjected even though they are often reluctant to admit it:  feminine power.  With a pained expression he observed me for several moments:  what reason commanded was not what the heart dictated.  He was tense as a bow, torn between the desire to give in and the wish to stand firm, but that beautiful fatherly confidence, along with all my hopes, crumbled before my very eyes.

The lady placed a hand on his arm and smiled at him as if to relieve him from the pressure he was under.  At that precise moment I knew that the little girl had won.

OK, OK, grumbled the father, defeated. We’ll take him, but on one condition...  We get a refund if he doesn’t survive.

He had barely finished speaking when little Marie threw herself into his arms.  For several minutes there was nothing but hugging and crying.  The outpouring of joy was such that she even succeeded in cheering up her father.  As for me, the subject of commercial transaction backed up with a guarantee on my life expectancy, I took the opportunity to hide under my mother’s belly, still hoping to avoid the adoption.  Nevertheless, the inevitable happened and I soon felt hands lifting my trembling body out of our bed.  Even though I was petrified and being taken into the unknown by strangers, I fought with my tiny paws to get my nose out of someone’s coat.  Stretching my neck above a shoulder I was able to make loving yet resigned eye contact for the last time with she who brought me into the world.  It was the final image I was to have of my mother.

3

In my misery I was lucky to be welcomed into a loving home where there was plenty of food.  My new family turned out to be very affectionate with me and did their best to calm my anxiety.  I often thought of my mother and wondered if I would be allowed to see her again one day.  I would often snuggle up to my new masters to find some of that warmth that reassures and comforts puppies, but they didn’t smell like mummy and despite their willingness I missed her terribly in the first few weeks.  Fortunately, time heals most pain and be they human or canine, the young have an amazing ability to adapt to whatever life throws at them.  As I settled into my new life, my sorrow faded little by little and I found my old joie de vivre.

Of all the humans in my life, Marie was the one who spent by far the most time playing with me.  She was a delightfully cheerful little girl who never stopped cuddling me and telling me stories, so much so that I quickly grasped the basics of human language.  She soon became my best and closest friend.  When she wasn’t around, I spent most of my time in the kitchen where my masters had put my bed, waiting impatiently for her to get back from school.  Jeanne, her mummy, was an excellent cook.  I loved it when she was standing in front of the oven.  I would get under her feet, my nose pointing up towards the ceiling to capture the delicious aromas invading the room and overwhelming the floral perfume that suffused her clothes.  Of the three humans who occupied our house, Paul was undoubtedly the strictest.  If I happened to do something stupid, he was the first to raise his voice and scold me.  When he spoke, I got whiffs of wood and tobacco, and his deep voice left a big impression on me.  He had made it quite clear that I was not to enter certain rooms, nor lie on the armchairs or sofa even though they were very comfortable.  I knew when he was unhappy, because of the way he wrinkled his nose, and I made sure to keep a low profile by making myself as small as possible.  When he was upset about something, I would go up to him, my head down, and I would lick his hands or any part of his body within my reach.  That was my way of showing him that I accepted his authority and I did that even more when he needed reassurance in his role as head of our family.  Usually, he would let me come near and would soon be scratching my tummy if I lay down at his feet.  Basically, Marie’s daddy was a good leader of the tribe.  Beneath his at times strict manner, Paul hid a sensitive soul and a warm heart, and if I occasionally did foolish things, he never raised his hand to me.

One last character made up our family.  The first time I saw him, although his odour was pungent and confusing, I thought he was a dog because he moved about on all fours and was covered in hair, like me.  When I approached him with my tail wagging to show I wanted to get to know him, he stood like a statue and made a growling noise which was not part of my vocabulary.  At the sight of his hair standing on end and his open mouth, I understood that he was encouraging me to keep my distance.  Somewhat disconcerted, I nevertheless tried to approach him, greeting him with a sharp and joyful yap as an invitation to play with me.  Oh, my goodness!  You should have seen his reaction!  In less time than it takes to bark, I received a masterly scratch on my nose.  It happened so quickly that I didn’t even see it coming.  A drop of red liquid began to spread on my nose.  As Marie was rushing to my rescue, I began to lick this liquid, and from its metallic taste I realised that it was my own blood.  This was my first encounter with Mistigri.

In the days that followed, I spent most of my time observing this strange animal, fascinated by the dexterity he demonstrated in any situation.

As well as his amazing speed, Mistigri was remarkably supple, able to leap from one piece of furniture to another, able to climb any roof and to reach the highest branches in trees so he could stalk unwary birds.  He scaled walls with bewildering ease and could walk along the narrow top of a fence perfectly balanced like a tightrope walker.  Mistigri was also a formidable hunter and was peerless in the capture of any mice who had the audacity to cross our garden and in catching flies mid-air.  I did my best to copy him, but I wasn’t in his league when it came to balance, dexterity or speed.  I concluded that Mistigri must have studied at a school of acrobatics or martial arts to manage such feats and that unless I became the disciple of a Grand Master, I would never be able to compete with him.  In addition to these qualities, Mistigri could also be quite sly, especially with prey which he approached slowly and in absolute silence.  He had a natural ability for camouflage and could suddenly emerge when you were least expecting him.  Following our meeting I made sure to keep my distance, always on my guard in his presence and not completely at ease when he wasn’t in sight.

Some time passed before our admittedly cold and distant relationship grew into something more complicit.  This time he took the initiative.  Like all top athletes, Mistigri placed great importance on resting and spent a lot of his time sleeping.  He had taken up residence in the living room inside a box perched at the top of a sort of artificial tree that my masters had deliberately placed far from my basket.  Imagine my surprise the day Mistigri came over to me nonchalantly and lay down between my paws!

Was it a strategy aimed at intimidating me?  Had he decided to commandeer me?  At this point in my life I was no longer the inexperienced little puppy.  I had grown a lot and was undoubtably sturdier than him.  I was very fond of my basket and quite prepared to defend it, but I knew that, against Mistigri, strength alone would not suffice.  He was an expert in the art of close combat, and I dreaded his sharp claws more than ever.  Convinced of an imminent attack, I slowly raised my head, keeping one eye on him, not daring to move.  After a few minutes, a regular purring could be heard and to my surprise I realised that Mistigri had fallen asleep!

Due to my immobility, my muscles began to seize up.  I had to move but I wasn’t keen on waking him for fear of his reaction.  So, I cautiously lay my head down on my paws and had my first nap with a cat.  This incident was the cause of much joy and inexplicable satisfaction for our masters.  To anyone they met they showed photos of Mistigri and me sleeping.  I was annoyed at seeing our privacy exhibited like this to complete strangers, whilst our masters were congratulating themselves at witnessing this friendly understanding between dog and cat.  As for Mistigri, he seemed completely indifferent to this excessive enthusiasm, and I began to wonder if I was taking it too much to heart.  Despite my irritation, I was careful to put on a brave face as I didn’t want to spoil my masters’ happiness.  Fortunately, as time went on, no-one paid any attention to the friendship that had grown up between the dog and the cat of the house.  It became natural.  Mistigri increasingly enjoyed the warmth of my basket and was always rubbing himself against me, so