Trust me, I'm a dog

The unsung heroes of any household. They see it all. They keep the secrets. They eat the treats. The speak the truths.

So I’m a dog.

I sit here, walk there, and generally keep an eye on things; I even get the best seat in the house for movie night:


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She – the Mum – is fun to listen in on. She’s on that phone, chatting to her pals about a bloke called Carlos. Large thighs apparently.

She knows I know, because she’s always catching my eye, giving me extra snacks here and there, to keep me sweet.

Don’t you worry, your secret is safe with me.

Thing is, I feel like I’m stuck between the two of them at times, you know?

I guess it’s important to remain neutral. She might dish out the treats, but he does the walks. They don’t always go to plan, like the time we hit the slopes on a ski trip:

I’m a bit worried about him though. 20 minutes the other day we stood, staring into a field, looking at the cows.

He kept saying something about “the great Plot”, and “a bovine bloodbath,” and “I’ll never bow to a cow”.


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