Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Weepette/Human: Mode d'Emploi

I'm spending this evening alone with the weepette.

I have misgivings about our relationship, Oscar and I. I mean, the honeymoon is well and truly over on both sides. We are like a couple, a year or two into married life as, almost imperceptibly slowly, disillusionment sets in. We are wondering what, exactly, we have got ourselves into.

Oscar, for his part, has made it clear that I am very low in his hierarchy of preferred humans. I throw, not merely like a girl, but like a spaghetti armed retard whose few forays into throwing/catching/coordination sports ended invariably in disaster and humiliation. Often when I throw a stick for him he just looks at it in disbelief and scorn and refuses to chase it. This does not happen when the CFO throws sticks, nor when any random male under 55 who Oscar entraps in the park (one of his favourite activities) throws a stick for him. Moreover, I am not good at 'playing' (my children would agree with this). All I want to do is cuddle and parade him round on a lead looking pretty; I have no interest in playing ridiculous tug of war games with a length of saliva coated rope, thank you. As a result, he rejects all my advances with cat-like disdain and will only stay on the same chair as me for about a minute before he pushes me off with all four paws simultaneously.

For my part, I have a dark suspicion that Oscar is not, in fact a weepette. He is still peculiarly small and squat for a weepette - a good 4 inches short of what I would call a 'proper' size.

Look; here he is with a ketchup bottle for comparison. No, don't knock it over Oscar.

(Why yes, the kitchen IS looking exceptionally sordid at the moment! So clever of you to notice)

Some might say that he is a bit like me in this respect - a little short and square. Thank goodness he still has his lovely Amy Winehouse eye markings and his coat has settled to an elegant sort of Armani greige or I would find him very aesthetically challenging. I still find myself staring at him accusingly as he begs for food and saying:

"You are very small Oscar. Why are you so small?".

Like a subtly abusive husband making jibes about his wife's figure.

He is not good at dressing up either. I have been trying for weeks to find a way to dress him up as a mussel for the Village Fête but it has proved impossible.

On top of this, I chose a weepette on the understanding that they were indolent to the point of catatonia once they had had their daily half hour of running fast in a circle. Thus far, I have been disappointed. I have just come back from a long walk with Oscar (long for me, at least), but that has not prevented him spending the last half hour pathetically bringing me stuffed animals to throw, and pulling my handwashing off the radiator to parade it round the garden. Yes, here he is again, this time with a plush chameleon. Oh, and now a punctured basketball. And a turtle in a sock (not a real one, have no fear). Jesus. Is there no end to it?

Oh, go on then.

What, again?

Oscar, I'm BORED NOW.

God. Last time then.

Then if I stop, he sits and looks like this.

And whimpers.

It's emotionally exhausting, I tell you.

The likelihood is, with Things being as they are, that the weepette and I will be spending more time tête a tête in the future. We really have to sort it out. Maybe I will need to explain to him that when I look at Scottish terriers in the street, it's not because I don't love him, I'm just admiring them. Purely aesthetically, you understand. And maybe I will have to learn to be more receptive to his Needs and resign myself to more evenings with the spit coated rope. Perhaps for the sake of our relationship I should invest in one of those giant spoons for throwing tennis balls? I certainly need to explain to him that when he gives me the full four paws chair ejection when I try to stroke his silky ears that I feel rejected. I need more affection! I have Needs too!

For the moment though, I think really he needs a night out with that nice cocker spaniel from up the road, and I need something to stroke, dammit. Where did that chewed up cuddly cameleon go?


Steam Me Up, Kid said...

OH that last picture!!! The eyes!! PLAY WITH THE PUPPY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IT'S SO SAD!!!

Sucker who is forced to type from an ottoman as all my chairs are presently occupied

Jaywalker said...

Pff. You come and play with the puppy Steamy. In fact, shall I DHL him over to the House of Dog?

Iheartfashion said...

yes, that last photo is a killer. What an expression of hopefulness tempered with despair! I'm tempted to come over there and play with the spit-covered rope myself.

Margarita said...

What a cute little pup. I love pix of him. Just... you know,you have to play with him. You know that right? Or I might have to remove him from your home into mine. Let's hope it doesn't come to that...


Jaywalker said...

Gaaaah. I AM playing. He's just, you know, tireless. And I am not. Spit rope! In my hands! Promise. Sigh.

Kate Lord Brown said...

Non non non. Pourquoi counselling?? Weepette is a hound. I have just discovered ours is the most stupid dog on planet apparently (Afghan) which explains 2 years of pure frustration RE 'fetch' 'drop' 'sit'.

However ... what these dullards who devise intelligence tests do not understand is emotional intelligence in dogs. If she is so stupid why did she lie at my feet last night while I wrote til midnight rather than in her comfy bed? Weepette, the Hound are similar breeds - hunters, aesthetes, lovers of life. Throw them a ball and they will run with it. Show them a freshly cleaned sofa and they will sink in to it. x

Helena Halme said...

I heard there was a cross trainer for dogs?

Chic Mama said...

Awww- he's so cute!

redfox said...

He truly does have a beautiful coat.

It's a pity he fails to live up to his breed's reputation for indolence. Perhaps he'll grow into it yet. Careful with that Scottish terrier admiration, though. If you want tirelessness in a dog, terriers are the place to go. God they are unceasing. I certainly hope none ever comes to live at my house (fortunately this one small thing is probably in fact within my powers to prevent).

Mwa said...

Shit. It took me THIS LONG to work out why you called your dog weepette. I'm a bit dense, sometimes.

monk said...

Just left the boyfriend's parents, who have an idiot spaniel which must be fawned over. I am doubly awkward about whether I should fawn in French or whether English would be viewed as my heartfelt, and the fact that the dog is a retard with no redeeming features. I got her lost in thistles this time, and her gaze is doubly mournful now.

monk said...

also, they have two stupid dogs, which always wee on each others heads and leads, and although I am not allowed to go slipperless around the house because it is unhygienic, the pissed-upon heads are caressed freely throughout dinner. GAH

Jaywalker said...

Monk - do they understand English? Because if not you could say things like "Who's a total shithead? Who's a brainless heap of stupidity? Shall I kick your arse? Shall I?" In that special fawning baby/animal voice that transcends language.

karenmc said...

"And maybe I will have to learn to be more receptive to his Needs and resign myself to more evenings with the spit coated rope. Perhaps for the sake of our relationship I should invest in one of those giant spoons for throwing tennis balls?"

Perhaps this would work with the CFO as well?

GingerB said...

Try to enjoy him now, before he ages and his mouth smells like a thousand arses.

Salome said...

He is still young, no? Our weepette-like greyhoundy cross suddenly grew up and became much much lazier at about 3 years old. Have faith!

ShallowGal said...

My kids have been begging for a dog and I just DO NOT HAVE THE ENERGY. Unless we get like an 11 year old almost dead dog. But nobody else likes that idea.

xo, SG

bevchen said...

That's why I want a little dog. They're much easier to wear out (and also to bath. The thought of putting a large dog in the bath makes me feel faint).

reen said...

Please assure him that his markings are far neater and more subtle than Amy's. I'd be hard pressed to resist the look in that last photo too, even though I'm neither a dog person nor a fan of spit-covered dog toys. Here's hoping your differences can be reconciled.

DameEmma said...

The giant spoon thing renders the drool-coated ball bearable.

Also, does he like other dogs? (Are there other dogs at the parc du caca?) Sometimes the only thing that can tire out a truly energetic dog is another dog. Bonus: dogs do not mind so much when other dogs put their slimy teeth on them.

pinolona said...

Your weepette is gorgeous: I am moving to BXL in the very immediate future, I'd love to weepette-sit (or weepette-walk) for you if you ever need a break :))
(is that creepy? Omigod I'm turning into one of those creepy old dog ladies... *starts to fret*)

edwynuk said...

A familiar problem, the saliva covered offerings, dropped just out of reach, then a bark rather than a wimper for me to get up from my chair to fetch the damn thing, then lob it.
As for the throwing like a girl, I can convince myself, and the dog, otherwise by throwing a ball on a rope, the rope should stay spit free, but can get wet/muddy......
Those guides are never right about how much exercise dogs need though, or should I say want. Much like me and bags.

Anonymous said...

You just aren't exercising him enough. End of story. Poor dog.

Z said...

I never built up a rapport with my mother's greyhounds. Elegant, gentle, well-behaved - and at least the second one was thoroughly lazy and didn't want to run - but we just had no emotional connection, and I've lived with dogs all my life and usually obey them willingly and lovingly.

Z said...

Oh, and that final picture - I agree with you. It's all about him "play with ME, love ME, fawn on ME". If his eyes and ears said "Come on, it'll be fun to do something together" it'd be different.

Anonymous said...

The weepette looks like such a sweet boy and I'm sure you look after him really well. If you want to distract him for a while, you could try the dog treat toys that they push around and tiny amounts of food are released. Agree on the spit... yikes. The pleading eyes etc have you wrapped around his elegant greige finger. More toys, maybe less pleading. One day you may be leader of his pack... big difference!!

Jaywalker said...

Kate LB - I wouldn't actually get dog counselling I promise. I just want to know where he's hidden the Holy Tortoise.

Helena - ha, imagining weepette's blank little face in front of cross trainer. Magic.

redfox - it's purely aesthetics with the terriers. I could clearly never live with something that relentless.

Mwa - you are NOT alone. Many people still don't understand. People. Once more. Weepette = whippet with CFO's accent.

karenmc - you can put that big old can of worms back right where you found it, lady. This weepette tale is NOT A METAPHOR.

Ginger - I sobbed involuntarily at that. God. Yes.

Salome - this is so reassuring. I often hear about 3 as being a magical age in dog terms when SENSE suddenly makes an appearance.

ShallowGal - yes. They want all the puppy cuteness. But! After 2 minutes of puppy cuteness they will move onto something else and you're left holding the spit soaked rope. Resist.

Bevchen - very wise. Do not put a large dog in your bath, you might rupture something.

reen - he's a post St Lucia Amy. Before the assault conviction and stuff.

DameEmma - he's like an awkward child with other dogs. Most of the time he skulks next to me and plays shy, but just occasionally, and wonderfully, he finds one that doesn't terrify him and runs around in a circle with it. I LOVE it when that happens. It did today! Yay.

Pinolona - Would it be creepy if I said YES. PLEASE. Whenever you want a borrow or a stroke or a drool rope you are more than welcome.

EdwynUK - I might have to try the rope ball. Sound thinking.

Anon - and I'm even more neglectful of my children! Not to mention the fish. Actually let's not mention the fish. Noone mention the fish.

Z - this is sort of reassuring. His cat like qualities make him rather aloof when he isn't dropping things at my feet and it's an odd combination. But then, I'm not a paragon of perfection and loveliness myself, so I think we'll manage to rub along somehow.

Anon - He's a very sweet boy and I will try and find these magical treat toys. actually, I want a human one.

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