“What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?”
There’s a hundred ways to describe Ville; determined, stubborn, unique, frustrating, cuddly, loveable and always up to something is only a few of them. He is more of an individual than I experience most animals to be (no offense to other pet owners!) and I constantly find myself thinking that normal dogs aren’t like this – only Ville is.
The other day we were up at my father’s place. We had taken my car up so I could poke around with some of its many strange and modern functions. I let out Ninja and Ville in the garden, nicely framed in by a sturdy fence. The dogs happily ran around, playing with each other, peeing everywhere, simply living a good dog life. I sat down in my car and opened up the manual. I hadn’t read many pages (or poked many buttons) before I hear a short “bwof”. I step out of the car and look towards the gate where Ninja stands, looking at me with big puppy eyes and drooping ears. I instantly knew what she was telling me – it’s not the first time this happens. Muttering a bit about “silly corgis” and their stumpy legs, I trudge up towards the kindergarten. And there, at a bush peeing, is Ville.
“I’ve told you to stay in the garden” I scold him gently as I pick him up and start carrying him back. He gives me a quick kiss and gets comfortable in my arms. As I let him back down – behind fence again – he grins at me and bounces off with Ninja, who’s happy again.
I go back to my car, sits down and picks up the manual. “Bwof”. I get back out, look at Ninja with her drooping ears at the gate. I sigh and can spot Ville happily trotting away towards the kindergarten. I go after him, picks him up, get my kiss and carry him back home while grumpily muttering about “too smart for his own good”. When he’s back where he belongs, I admonishing raise my finger at Ville.
“You stay there now” I tell him strictly, “or you won’t get any supper later”. (Don’t worry, he always gets his supper!)
He looks at me, his head tilted sideways in an understanding and adorable way, then runs off with Ninja at his heels. I go back to the car but haven’t even had the time to sit down when I hear it again. “Bwof”. I look up and see a shortlegged brown dog trot past the driveway with no care in the world, as if saying “just out chilling”. I step out behind him and he gives me a quick glance, his stumps trotting a bit faster. I clear my throat. His legs drums a bit faster. “Staaaaay” I say with a low, urging voice. He stops, lowers his head and his brains seems to spin around what excuse to come up with in order to explain the situation. Even if he had come up with something, I wouldn’t have listened to it at this point. He’s put back in the garden and sign at him that I’m keeping my eyes on him.
I move towards my car, stops and take a few steps back. I see the fuzzy corgi butt of Ville mischievously strut towards the fence towards the neighbor. He looks around (but not enough to spot me) and crawls under. At the other side he looks up, sees me and freezes. I look at him. He looks at me. Ninja comes running to me and goes “bwof” – “Ville is gone again”. I can see that. I’m still looking at him. He’s trying to decide what to do. I stretch out a finger and points at him. “Sit” I demand. He hesitates, looks around for an escape route, realizes he’s in trouble and with a sigh that even I can hear from my spot, he sits down.
Remind me to fix that fence…