Foster: Born a Dog Died a Gentleman
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Foster - Lorraine Walker
CHAPTER I
Foster opened an eye. His one ear stood straight on end and turned towards footsteps coming up the hall. The footsteps slowed. He closed the eye again. The ear drooped.
There you are, you rascal, already in bed, snug as a bug. You can stay there, I’m coming to bed now.
Foster sighed, grunted, farted and stretched. Life was good. He was a big black mutt and slept in the largest basket they make for dogs. He had one of those special comforters plus pillows and blankets. During the day he liked to hop onto mom’s bed and spread out, his four long legs stretching from one side to the other. She didn’t seem to mind. At night, he snuggled down into his very own bed and hardly moved.
He always had bowls full of food and water. If they emptied, mom immediately filled the bowls back up. He learned he didn’t have to gobble and could eat at his leisure, which was usually in the middle of the night when all was quiet. He wasn’t a big eater and every time he went to the vets, she commented – What a healthy animal. He’s the healthiest dog I have ever seen. The proper weight, muscles in trim, healthy teeth, pleasant demeanour…good dog!
His mistress would beam at him and both would scratch him behind the ears and between his front legs on his chest. Ecstasy! He would give his biggest grin by pulling his top lips up and showing his teeth; he’d lean up against whoever was doing the scratching, blessing them with big brown eyes of love. He didn’t mind the needle so much, but hated the shit they tried to feed him that tasted like cow manure. Something about his heart. They tried to hide it in bits of fat and cat food. He ate the good stuff and spat the other junk out.
He hated going to the vets anyway. He didn’t like the place at all! He tried not getting out of the car by holding onto the door frame with his gigantic paws like fingers, running the other way, planting all four paws either side of the door leading into the building. His mom resorted to picking him up, all 60 lb., and carrying him in. He would run around the waiting room jumping on and off the furniture while mom scolded him, and other people laughed calling him a ‘big baby’. He cowered behind his mom when he got into the surgery, ears flat. It smelled of death. He could tell lots of other animals had been in there before him and not come out. The thought gave him panic attacks. Once he realized it was only for weighing, his yearly shot and a cuddle – he was okay. I can handle that.
The irritant in his life was his cousin, Shep, who every day would bound up the stairs, knocking into him, licking his penis, chase him or the cats around the house, first gobbling up any and all dog and cat food that might be in her path. His mom was always shouting at Shep who barked at every little noise with huge German Shepherd barks that hurt your eardrums. They sprayed her in the face with water. The mailman had to creep underneath the window and would be halfway down the drive before she sensed he was there when the mailbox closed. As soon as her ears picked up the sound she was at the window barking and snarling, leaving a drooling mess of spit and gue, and scratching the paintwork on the ledge. They couldn’t have Christmas lights in the window and the curtains were threadbare.
I never did that. Well….I must admit I have chewed lots of blinds – and curtains……and – things…. Only when I was anxious, when they left me by myself. I get scared being by myself, even with the cats in the house.
Joy oh joy, Shep is staying over with us this Christmas. So far, she’s not been too bad. I think my mom explained to her that her mom and dad were on their holidays and so she was coming to spend