My Dad

Many years ago, my Dad was a spring chicken. Now I have to confess that’s something I’ve never quite been able to get my head around either. If Dad did in fact start out in life as a chicken as he says, then how come he’s now this pretty strange looking humanoid thing? Is that the way all spring chickens turn out? Nasty. Kinda makes me feel grateful I turned out to be a dog. Makes me wonder about the efficacy of eating chicken as well!

Sorry. I digress. Many years ago, when he was a spring chicken, my Dad was a bodyguard for a Middle Eastern prince. Before that he was in the military which is pretty worrying in itself given the state of him now.

Anyway, apparently this prince said to my Dad when he interviewed him for the job that despite the difference in their status, they would both be living very much the same lifestyle if Dad got the job, which he did. And that’s the way it was. When the prince flew to New York on Concorde back in the day, so did my Dad. When the prince holidayed in Bermuda, so did my Dad. When the prince entertained three girls at a time…… I think you get the picture.

And that’s pretty much the way things are with me and Mum and Dad. Okay, our status might differ vastly, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t go to exactly the same places and do exactly the same things together. We’re all equal in that way, even though I’m told on occasion that I treat them too well and that it could backfire on me if they start to get ideas above their station.

Mum, Dad and me, we’re a team. I can think of no one I’d rather be with, and I know they feel exactly the same. Makes you feel all warm and gooey inside, don’t it though!


I am a large, friendly, affectionate and, even though I say so myself, fabulously handsome 3 year old German Shepherd Dog whose mother, Lexi, is one of the few German Shepherds in the UK to have qualified to become a Therapy Dog (PAT dog).