Well, it all started well after 4 o’clock on Friday afternoon, when my non-furry Dad was about to escort me to the dog park next door. But Mum insisted we drive to the Bribie Island BOQ first before they closed, as she needed to make a last-minute deposit.
So, like an armoured bear in my bright red harness, sitting behind Dad in the back seat, but without pressure from my 5m lead, I worked out quickly how to wiggle my front legs down through the two bottom holes of this restrictive gear, as I hate wearing it except while walking. Then, slipping out altogether within seconds – puppy-play!
Neither Mum nor Dad had turned around to look behind their seats, so no one knew I was free.
When Dad stopped at the BOQ car park, and Mum opened her car door, I saw my adventure, leapt like a gazelle over the headrest of Mum’s seat and was in the car park before she had even stepped out of the car. I knew she could not catch me, because she calls herself an Octogenarian Dinosaur and although I‘m not quite sure what that really means, I think it’s to do with the fact that both Mum and Dad are very old. But as I, Nouguietoo, am just a 2kg, 25-week-old Chihuahua puppy, with lightning speed and the athletic ability to jump extremely high and turn 180 degrees in mid-air, this was my day! Both Mum and Dad took a few seconds with their creaky bones to get out of the car, so I had a great head start. “Don’t try to run, Darling,” Dad called out protectively to Mum, “I’ll catch him!”
Oh, yes, we’ll see about that! The sun was still out, but it was starting to spit and I don’t like the rain. I thought I’d better make the best of it quickly, so I crisscrossed the main road several times outside Woollies and the other shops. Oh, what fun! I slipped in and out between the cars, even they could not stop me, nor could the shoppers on the footpath trying to grab me. One young man did succeed in clasping his hands around my belly, but with my silky-smooth puppy coat, bushy tail and excessive speed I just slipped straight out of his arms without effort. Other men and women tried to pick me up also, but what chance did they have against an Olympian like me! Even my lovely Dad failed to get hold of me as he attempted to curtail my speedy escape. No wonder people call me all sorts of weird names: ferret, joey, foxy, lightning streak, little shit, baby German Shepherd, and even bat, because of my long black ears.
Then, all of a sudden, all cars stopped on the main road, and not for that pedestrian crossing either! Two guys from separate cars jumped out of their vehicles, left them standing there in the middle of the road, and started walking towards me from opposite directions. While more and more pedestrians accumulated on the footpath, others joined me back on the road itself. Ah, ah, but this is not good! When I dashed back onto the footpath outside Liquorland, I was corralled into a tight semicircle by Dad, the two drivers and pedestrians, all of whom, their arms outstretched, herding me right into the off-license and the shop door was shut immediately, blocking my escape.
It wasn’t till captured securely in Dad’s arms, people clapping and Dad thanking everyone for their tremendous help, that I realised I was in trouble. But Dad never slapped my bum. He just told me off. So, as he carried me back to our car at the other end of the car park – my adventure starting point – I cleaned his ears and licked his face to say sorry.
But the reason I am writing this now, YOU WONDERFUL BRIBIE ISLANDERS, Is that I am terribly ashamed to have caused you all that trouble and I want to thank every one of you so very much for certainly having saved my life and having taught me a lesson I will never forget.
As Dad started the car, a lady also leaving the carpark, driving in the opposite direction, stopped right next to us, leaning over towards Dad with “It might be a good idea to have him on a lead next time!” “Little do you know?” I burst out indignantly, “It wasn’t Dad’s fault!” But the lady did not understand me.