If they call you a character it’s usually a form of praise, but I wonder if my former owners appreciated me for my character. They probably thought I would make a nice little plaything, but in the long last I ended up on a long leash in a dump where every now and then someone drop by if they felt like dog company. And all that because I do have a character of my own. I like to be petted and cuddled, but not all the time. I am tough and stubborn, and no one should try to get too close to me. If I don’t feel comfortable, for instance with another dog or something like that, I will show it and not by such a slight amount. People just have to be nice and quiet, then I am too. And cats and other game are for hunting, so what’s wrong with that?
The two elderly people I’m staying with now mean well. It took some doing before it got there. I had to use my teeth a few times, but seven years of neglect and lack of guidance is not something you level out easily. I take pills three times a day now and I must say: I feel a lot calmer. Of course I will still speak up if I don’t like something, and and I still can’t stand threats, noise and agitation, but I no longer go completely over the edge. On the other hand: I remain who I am. Anyone who likes me, I like in return, I can run and jump like the best of them, love to be cuddled and often reciprocate with a lick and a happy bark. I like being with people, and I let them know it. But anyone who gets too close to me has a problem.
By nature, I am still that fanatical hunting dog that the American Reverend Jack Russel envisioned when he “invented” me and my kind. I may not be a full-blooded Jack Russel, but anyone who sees me knows immediately what kind of meat he has in the tub. If I see something that looks like prey, I have to go after it. I forget how pleasant it is to be in the room on the sofa or on a cushion, and follow my hunting instinct. And that is quite tricky when you live with two old people with three cats who cannot leave the house. As soon as I see a cat you have the puppets dancing. They tried it with me in the house for a while, but the result was that both me and the owners and the cats lived on the edge of hysteria almost constantly. In the long run, that was not doable, so then they came up with another solution. From pet I became outdoor dog.
I can now do my thing in the garden. They have a spacious conservatory for me with two cages and a crate. But yes, being outside all day and only seeing and greeting my owners there is a bit of a meagre existence. They do their best, you know: we walk at least three or four times a day, but that’s it for a few hours. That’s why I love it when there are errands or trips. When the car door opens, I immediately understand that I can go in and I am in my seat in no time. I do this on purpose, because I don’t like being lifted up and I show it. This probably has to do with my past, because I like sitting next to someone. On the road, I can spend times on the back seat looking out the window or just lie down and ride along.
I also like exploring new places: I sniff everything, leave a mark everywhere. Only when there is a lot of fuss and bother does my old restlessness return. Then I get scared and unpredictable and prefer to stay in the car. That one is familiar, so I don’t have to get excited there. I just wait until the people are back and the journey continues – to another place or home. When we get back, I have my garden and hutch again, and the owners go inside and to their cats.
Is this what I want? I don’t know, and I believe the couple I live with don’t know either. I do hear them saying that they want me to have a good life, but I also hear them saying how much they would love it if I could be in the room with them, on the couch or on a cushion, and how sad they feel that that is not possible. I quite understand that, because I may be troubled and on pills, but I am also a doggie who likes to be with people. But I can’t get around my nature. I do hunt cats and so, unfortunately, I have become an outside dog, much to the chagrin of the two old people who took me in. I content myself with the human moments when they feed me, want to spend time with me or need to go outside for something else, love going for walks with them and am always happy with the extra time for shopping or other outings. Other than that, I have my garden, my pen and my food and drink and n I have to make do with that.
Am I happy? Of course I feel alone often enough, but whether a playmate would solve that? Sometimes I like another dog and want to play with it, but most of the time the distrust is too deep and I growl rather than wag. I am a people dog, but the people I first belonged to did give me a hard time. The pills help me get over a lot of my fear and anger from before, but it will probably never go away completely. I think I really long for an owner who likes me, wants me with him and doesn’t demand too much from me. Just being accepted as I am: a little dog that wants to do nice things now and then but also wants to be left alone, and doesn’t want to be on his guard all the time because something bad might happen.
How this will all turn out I don’t know. Like those two elderly people who are now taking care of me, I can’t do anything but take things one day at a time and hope that everything will be all right tomorrow too. People always wish each other happy holidays and a good new year at this time. Would that be in it for me too?