See me stretched out on the floor
And I'm slow - too much to try and start again
'Cause I do just what I want
I'm a Peke and I can rant
No one's ever gonna change my royal reign
(You can hum this to Helen Reddy's "I am Woman")
So when it's supper time, he throws his head from side to side :
"Oh look how cute I am - I might lick a plate
look at this Peke, I smile and I speak
Now gimme that treat! "
I made the mistake tonight of trying to take him for a (short) walk down the road, because we thought the lad might be sleeping a tad too much. Y' know "healthy mind, healthy body" - a walk a day keeps the doctor away - kind of thing.
The problem of course is that Amos' idea of going for a walk, is rushing to the side of the car and screaming for me to open the door so he can get in. Thence to be propelled in great style round the village, courtesy of the internal combustion engine....
And (naturally), he's not trained to walk on a leash. Why would he be? Nobody's ever had the temerity to try and actually make him walk - until now. So - on goes the harness (which is a wonderful adjustable contraption, orange in colour, and it gets clipped to the leash - just so.
And Amos sprints to the car. And stops dead.
" OEAGHHAGHOAAWAWWAWWAWWAW" , he intones. At full volume. And of course, the neighbouring dogs (and the neighbourhood dogs) prick up their ears and take an interest, and start barking at full volume.
But worse is to come. Hell bent on destroying what's left of my tattered reputation, I bravely cluck him into venturing outside the front gate. Wherapon he sits his backside firmly on the ground and : "WORRAWORRAWORRAWAWWAWWAW" at full volume. The next door dogs are now getting their juices nicely up and working, and are starting to rev.
So in desperation, I scoop him up and escort him to the other side of the stop street, some 50m from the front gate. Hopefully he will now breathe in the scents of evening and condescend to trot along happily in the gathering gloom (I chose gloom to make it harder for anyone to identify me).
No such luck. He has been silent under my arm, but when I put him down, its "WORRAWORRAWORRAWAWWAWWAW" again, in a rich variety of choral tones. Freely translated, it means "Oy! come and look at this bastard maltreating me. He's taking me to the Tower of London, where he will put me on the rack and stick hot pokers up my ass". And of course, unless I take action immediately, the locals are sure to stick their heads out of the windows and wonder why the guy down the road is persecuting his pets. One can never be too careful in a small village.
So I cheerfully cluck and whistle, and - surprise! - the lad charges ahead. "Oh good", I think, "we're going to have a little fun. I'm going to stroll in a leisurely manner and Amos is going to start to take in the heady evening scents and have a little fun". And of course, I'm wrong. He charges two metres and stops dead. Then ducks his head down and buries it in the dirt on the side of the road, apparently trying to emulate some sort of digging machine. And this process is repeated a couple of times.
(I would like to mention here that I worked quite hard this morning in very sweaty conditions to wash and groom the boy, so I'm not altogether enchanted with the prospect of our pet grinding the top of his skull through the substrate, en route to some nether region several hundred meters below ground level). But what the hell do I matter?
He then adds insult to injury by coughing up a lungful of foam, just to show me how little he is enjoying this walk. So I give up. I pick him up under one arm, and peace is restored immediately. As I walk the 100m or so back home, I have to endure the local youths "Hey mister, that's a nice dog". "Yes he is", I reply through gritted teeth.
"What sort of dog is he?"
"He's a Pekingese", I reply, trying not to burst into tears.
And the moment I open the gate, and slide the reluctant lad into the property, removing his harness and leash? He bounds forth, wagging furiously. Can't wait to get back inside.
Sigh. At least I now know. No pleasant walks with camera in hand, ambling along while Amos enjoys his surroundings. I'll have to go on my own.
He's getting as much exercise as he wants, in the back garden....