At some point, I imagine that Mort and me will become household names. I say this nonchalantly, I know, but with a face like his, and the name ‘Mortimer’, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. And he will need someone to drive him to his various commitments – that’s where I come in. I’m not sure what he will be famous for yet – but lots of famous people don’t seem to have any discernible talent, so I figure we shouldn’t let that get in our way (yes, I’m looking at you, Kim Kardashian).
'I'm way more talented than her"
I’m pretty certain we won’t be famous for my dog training skills. We are probably more likely to appear in some kind of reality programme entitled ‘When dogs take over’ or ‘Animal Farm 2011: no mercy’. I’d love to be a masterful dog trainer aka Cesar and have a pack of dogs follow me adoringly as I rollerblade down an empty street, but, alas, I cannot rollerskate, and I’m pretty certain Mort would either run in the opposite direction, sit down and refuse to budge or accidentally trip me up.
Sometimes I have little daydreams where I imagine that it is my job to go to people’s houses and diagnose their dogs and then cure them of whatever annoying/disgusting/bizarre habit they enjoy inflicting upon their humans. In reality, I’d be sat on their sofa, repeatedly saying comments such as ‘Yes, you weren’t exaggerating, he is a complete pain isn’t he?’ as their beloved canine wees up my leg, before sensing weakness and ignoring me entirely. I would probably write some kind of prescription suggesting they try bribing him with a sparkly collar, and then run out the house.
If, by some miracle, we managed to con the world into believing that we were some kind of amazing double act, and my training mastery knows no bounds, it would only be a matter of time before an interview such as the following happened (yes, I’ve imagine being interviewed by journalists – you mean you haven’t?):
Journalist: What makes you such a good dog trainer?
Me: Well, I intuitively understand their needs, wants and desires. I communicate with them with the power of my eyes, and offer counselling sessions with titles such as ‘Don’t worry; you’re not a wolf’, ‘So what if the other dog is bigger: you’re better’ and ‘Can’t get the dog of your dreams? Try urinating on her’.
J: Would you say you’re in charge of your dog?
M: Definitely. I am the master in my house. Mort respects me, and knows that I am in charge.
J: Then, maybe you can explain what is taking place in these pictures?
[Hands over images of a bed, with something black sticking out from under the duvet].
M: No idea. Dan has black hair – maybe it is the top of his head?
J: Or maybe it is Mort? Under the duvet, with his head on the pillow, sleeping like a human?
M: Hmm. It might seem that way to the unwitting eye, but you can’t be sure…
J: Here’s a close-up of his face. Eyes closed, sleeping.
M: Ah. So it is.
J: It would appear that he is in the bed on his own, would it not?
M: I guess so…
J: So, what is happening here, is that Mort has kicked both of his owners out of the bed, burrowed under the duvet, and crawled into the warm bit where you were sleeping. And, instead of telling him off, I’m guessing that you have taken a picture of him on your phone, because he looks so cute. Am I right?
M: So anyway, let’s talk some more about my book, ‘Tame the wolf within’….
You get the picture. Maybe we should learn how to dance to music instead….
Ah, yes, well, ahem. I have the twin to this picture with a red dachsie head on my pillow as I arise at 5:30 a.m. to earn the daily bread to sustain us both. I know he appreciates my efforts, though.
Yes, that sounds very familiar! There is nothing harder than waking up at an ungodly hour, while your dachshund is curled up, glaring at you out of one half-opened eye. But, like you said – we have to go to work to earn the money to buy the Markies