A match made in Babel...

This is a true story.

Well actually it’s based on true events with true characters.

It may sound a bit far fetched to begin with, but I assure you that these events have taken place and continue to do so on a daily basis.

In order to protect the innocent, names have been changed and events altered where possible, while still trying to make this documentary as accurate and interesting as possible.

This story is about dogs. It may seem to be about two dogs, but in some cases the combined experiences of several dogs was been collated in order to draw a more family friendly picture, while still maintaining the integrity of the writer, without straying too far off the narrow path of the truth.

THE STORY

The older one was black and white and had a permanent smile on her face, even though she suddenly developed a bit of a heart condition. She was mostly English, but was able, due to her highly intelligent ancestors, to pick up certain words in other languages as well.

It was just after six o’clock in the morning on any given day, as she stretched her elderly body, looked up to the sky and saw the first blossoms on the apple tree. The air smelt like wet earth, as it had rained the night before and she felt younger than her 80 human years.

“What does one have to do to get some breakfast around here?” she asked while nudging her much younger companion to her left.

He was off-white with a few black spots and although he had the heart and brain of a stuffed teddy bear, he growled with fright as he woke up. He was built like a brick out-house and resembled a medium built giraffe.

He was Danish and although he’s been with her for a few years now, he still couldn’t understand the highly proper and posh English she spoke.

“Hvad fanden Dudette?” (translation here) due to his still teen-age years, a high squeal was followed by a lowish growl in the most yodilly tone, which can only be expected from Danes.

She was Gemma, although due to her round firm bottom (even at her age), he insisted in calling her Pippa.

He was Erniessonn. Named after an ancient Viking god, who was well known for walking long distances on mowed lawns and hitting goose eggs into moles’ holes for fun. 

They had no mutual language they could converse in, although she did pick up on the boyish indecent proposals he threw at her a few times a day. The few Danish words she picked up related to various bodily functions, including procreation and orgasms, while his English was limited to what he saw on Game of Thrones, his human mistress watched while her husband wasn’t looking or racy YouTube videos.

The one thing the two dogs (except for being dogs) had in common was that they owned, and in some strange way loved and adored the same human. They loved that she fed them every day and took care of them by taking them to be groomed and pampered every so often. They loved it that she would pick up their poop off the grass. That especially made them feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

But the one thing they loathed and hated and felt really uncomfortable with, was the constant yapping their human did. She never stopped.

They had no clue what these noises meant, but they knew she was directing the flood of high-pitched utterances at them, while laughing and giggling a lot; as if she was actually funny! Maybe she wás in her own little way, but they didn’t know if this was actually true and didn’t give a toss either.

So on this lovely morning, Gemma (or Pippa), shook her ears to slap herself awake and with thunder in her voice said to the totally oblivious, non-understanding Erniessonn:”It’s your turn to look interested and listen to her gobbledygook-speak today, my young lover. I haven’t the faintest clue what she’s on about, ever and since we’ve, in so many years, not been able to teach her DOG, I’ve given up! I have a pain in my chest and she, unless she’s feeding us, is a pain in the arse!!”

Erniesson, without the faintest idea what his English Rose just got off her chest, smelt a snake in the grass and wailed in despair as he imagined that Pippa just told him to spend some time with that weird human, with the nonsense gabble and psychopathic-like giggles and laughs while she scratched his ears.

He liked the scratching. She would even scratch his soft tummy. That he liked too, but that consistent noise and yapping from her weird, small, flat mouth was his true and utmost kryptonite – he did see himself as a bit of a Super Dog, sometimes…..

But today was no day to be acting brave.

”Venligst ikke gøre mig gå med hende og få hende lave sjove lyde og fniser på mig i dag! Jeg har en stor hovedpine!” (translation here)he wailed.

Baring his teeth, he made it clear that he was not interested, even if it included a little nooky with his elderly girlfriend as an incentive.

“‘Ah ‘ave no awedea whot she’s sayin’ love, sow, leaf me out off diss” he tried to counter the assumed suggestion in a mock Cockney-Danish-David Beckam accent he picked up on Youtube.

Gemma faked a chest pain and fainted on the spot, but regretted it, as she became the sole center of attention for the day, while Erniesson played and ran and cajoled all day long and fruitfully interacted with his actual favorite human. The dark man who tends the garden and never, ever, speaks to him directly, assumes that he's answered or seems to expect a reply….

Groete uit die woestyn en van al die Arabiere.

H of Arabia