Sarah's Own Story
Sarah Coughlan
You all know my story, as my daddy put it on this human 'internet' thing
that he's always using. I thought that it was about time that I gave
you the facts from *my* point of view. I hope you'll all excuse my
spelling, but the fact that I'm a dog *does* mean that my Human isn't
too great. I'd like to see *you* try to speak Canis !!
My name is Sarah (or at least that's what humans call me. My real name
is unpronounceable to humans) and I was born in November 1994 in
Glasgow. My mother was a Border Collie called Dinah and my dad was a
German Shpeherd called Barnaby. At the age of two months, I got sent to
my new home. That was really bad. The human who had me at that time
thought it was a great laugh to hold me down and put a small burning
white stick against my neck. I tried to get away, but he was too
strong, and when I cried, he only laughed more, and did it again.
*Shiver* . . . I can barely even think about that. He used to use the
leash on me like a whip, and whenever I barked at an intruder, he would
scream at me, and kick me in the ribs.
One of the humans living next door must have told someone, because a
couple of moons later, some more humans with dark blue coats came and
took my owner away. They put some silver things on his wrists, because
he tried to hit one of the humans with the dark blue coats.
A nice lady with a blue coat came over to me, and I cowered down 'cos I
thought that she was going to hit me for making my owner angry. When
she saw how scared I was, water started to come out of her eyes, and she
made nice noises, so I let her pick me up. She took me to a place with
lots of other dogs, and I got food and a warm bed, but I was lonely.
A dog in the next bed, called Jake, told me that they only keep you for
seven moons, and then they kill you. I didn't believe him, but he
insisted. "Ah'm telling ye, doll: seven moons and ye're broon breed!"
Jake was cute with a lovely bark, but he seemed to have a problem
distinguishing fact from fantasy.
The next sun, a man with a white coat came and put a jaggy piece of
silver metal in my leg. I fell asleep and when I woke up, some of the
coat on my neck was missing, but the pain was gone.
Three moons later, a tall human with silver metal hoops around his eyes
came to my new home. He looked at all of the dogs, but kept coming to
look at me. Then I was taken from my room and a new collar was put on
me, and the tall human took me away.
I met lots of new people that moon, and the human kept calling himself
'daddy'. There was a lady there who smelled nice, and she called
herself 'mummy'. She had soft hands and called me her 'baby'.
I stayed with them for a long time, and I was happy. We lived next to
the big water, and daddy would take me down and throw small rocks along
the yellow ground, and I would chase them. Sometimes they went into the
big water, and I went in after them and daddy laughed. Sometimes mummy
and daddy took me out together, and they held paws, and sometimes put
their muzzles together.
That's when I started to learn Human.
Then, daddy took me away and we went to a new house. Two new humans
lived there, they call themselves 'nana' and 'papa'. I've never known
so many humans who are nice to me. There are some human pups, who
always stroke me, and I jump up and lick their faces, and they squeal.
Whenever a human comes near, and I bark, I'm never smacked for it. Nana
uses the burning white sticks, but I know that she only puts them in her
mouth, and that she would never use them on me.
Once, I went out with Nana and the human pups, and a big grrur-a-gr . .
. sorry, humans call them dobermans, came up and attacked one of the
human pups. I jumped up on the doberman and scratched his neck.
"Oi!! What d'y'a do that for?" ha asked.
"That's my cousin, get away from her!!" I barked. He ran away and Nana
stroked me and made nice noises. She called me a "good dog" (I learned
that quickly as they're always calling me good). "Of course, I'm a good
dog," I replied. "There's no such thing as a bad dog."
I don't think she understood. Humans aren't very good at languages !
But I miss mummy. Daddy misses mummy too, as sometimes he has an image
of her in his hand and he says, "I love her, Sarah." Then a lot of
water comes out of his eyes, and he cuddles the image and me at the same
time. I hope that mummy comes back, but I don't think that she loves
daddy anymore.
*I* love daddy. He never hits me, and although sometimes he talks hard
to me, but it's usually when I go near a big black track with smelly,
metal things running along it. I don't like them: they're smelly and
they go "vroom! vroom!" What sort of animal goes "vroom! vroom!"
What's a dignified dog to do, I ask you?
So now you know my story. Daddy has given me an e-mail address,
although I'm not sure what that means. He says that I can bark to other
dogs across the big water. Humans are so silly sometimes!! How can a
dog across the big water hear my bark?
Still, I love him. Even if he isn't all that clever. I'm going to have
to convince him that world ends at the big water. First, I have to
teach him Canis . . . .
--
Sarah Coughlan
Sa...@maudit.demon.co.uk
"Woof!! Woof!! Woof-a-woof-a-ruff!! Grrrrr-a-ruff!! A-wuff-a-woof!"
Grrrr-wuff wuff-a-woof-a-wuff. (1987)