CLANK is a cross husky and he lives, no survives up the road a bit from us. In all the years we have lived here, almost four, this little dog has been chained to a piece of farm machinery. We are accustomed to his howling and pitiful cries for attention. Until this year, although we passed him every day walking our old dog, we never approached him because we had been told that he would bite. This piece of advice, I think, was given to deter us from offering him friendship and as a warning not to stray onto the owners land. No-body lives there, by the way! Then, one day he managed to escape his fetter and made his way down to our garden. The boys, who were in the pound, raised the signal in the way they do and kicked up an almighty rumpus, to let us know that we had an intruder. And there he was wearing a collar and chain that would have restrained a bull. There was so much steel hanging from his neck that he walked with his front legs splayed to avoid a bashing from his heavy metal bling. He clanked towards us (I don’t need to tell you how he got his name) when we opened the door, cowering and afraid and when I offered a hand, he flopped onto his back in a typically submissive posture.
After a hearty breakfast and a bucket of water we brought him into the pound to see how he would behave around the boys. Thankfully, he was submissive with them and after they nosed and prodded him about for a while, they accepted him and he spent the rest of the day with them. He had to go back, of course and with a heavy heart we returned him to his chain and his farm machinery. We call in every morning to disentangle him from his knots, free up his chain and to give him a bit of breakfast but it breaks my heart when we leave him barking after us.
CLANK is extremely underfed, in no way aggressive and craves human touch; he would make a loyal and loveable companion. Maybe there is someone out there who is looking for such a little dog. Of course, they couldn’t have CLANK, he belongs to someone else and he wears a collar to prove it, but I’m sure we could arrange for a similar little dog, virtually the same as the one in the photographs but not wearing a collar to turn up on our doorstep if the right person were to come along!!
Who Stole the Pooh Bag, Who, who, who, who?
Ha! Somebody will have got a very unpleasant shock when they made off with a plastic bag we left at the side of the road. I can’t imagine what somebody expected to find in the little lumpy black bag tied up with a knot but you can bet your bottom dollar (what does that mean exactly?) that they wished they hadn’t been so curious as to find out. The contents ~ doggy do’s. Left at the roadside to pick up and put in the bin on the way back from the village. Maybe if it was still warm, they thought it was a bag of bagels!
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