Tag: Pipsqueak

Dexter: I am Dexter of the Jungle, intrepid explorer!

Archie: I am Archie the Very Patient, and I don’t have the heart to tell you that they’re fencing off the patio garden, Pipsqueak, because you keep chomping all the veg you can reach…

Archie: Pipsqueak, it’s a toastie! Assume stare position. When you’re big enough, your chin goes on her knee and you dribble to remind her to save your share.

Following day: Senior EPA Archie would like to report that Pipsqueak is getting the hang of the Stare Position very well indeed.

Archie: Pipsqueak! It’s time for porridge! It’s the best start to the day. Mum makes it with oats, milk, a bit of flax seed (which she says is good for her cholesterol, but of course is excellent for our coats) and a dollop of plain fat-free yogurt. I’m licking my lips just thinking about it.

Dexter: so we sit nicely for it, Arch, right?

Archie: yes, and we get two teaspoons each. (She always laughs a lot when she says ‘two spoons’. It’s something to do with ‘two soups’. I think it’s her age…)

(A few days later, on hearing the beep from the microwave finishing)

Dexter: Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum! I smell porridge for my tum!

Archie: Pipsqueak! Cheese! Dad snacks on cheese and biscuits when he’s watching telly. Cheese is the best. Sometimes he tries to sneak some out of the fridge without us hearing. Listen out for the sound of cheese wrapper. Even if you’re busy sniffing every single blade of grass in the garden, you come in straight away for cheese.

Also note there is beer. I like beer. Dad doesn’t put it in a glass any more since the day he caught me having a sneaky slurp from his pint. But you could do a run-and-skid manoeuvre and knock the can over; he won’t tell you off because you’re a baby and don’t know any better. Then we can both slurp the beer off the floor…

Dexter: Look, Arch! Look at my big teeth! I might be little, but I have BIG TEETH! I’ve been thinking about this. I could have a career in film. Who has big teeth?

Archie, very patiently: I dunno, Pipsqueak. Bugs Bunny?

Dexter: Bugs Bunny? Hmm. I like carrots, but I want to eat other stuff as well. (Thinks for a bit.) Oh, wait. I have it. Tall, handsome and dangerous. I can be Count Dext-ula…

Archie says: usually, if someone’s at the front door it’s a visitor who’s going to make a fuss of me, or the postman bringing something (and making a fuss of me — because (adds deep voice) Everybody Loves Archie). Today our visitor was a bit weird. One of the squirrels who usually jumps from the tree to the bird-feeder to scoff the seeds and fat-balls decided to climb up the porch.

Dexter: I was having porridge when the Senior Edit-paw-ial Assistant made a fuss and Mum went to the window to see who the visitor was. I can’t believe Archie interrupted porridge for a squirrel! (I like porridge. A lot. Got a bit on my whiskers.)

Archie, day 1: look, Mum, lockdown rules say you have to be two metres apart. I’m not sure that Pipsqueak is even supposed to be in our house. I could report you for lockdown-breaking and you’ll get a letter from the police (but then they might fine you and you won’t be able to afford to give me salmon). I am not letting him sleep in my bed or even on the same level as me. Two metres, that’s the rule, so I insist on socially distant napping.

A day later

Archie: OK. I’ll agree to nap on the same level as Pipsqueak.

A couple of days later:

Archie: I know Pipsqueak wriggled off your lap. I could get up and huff in dignified protest, as I’ve done every day since he arrived, but right now I can’t be bothered to move. That’s the only reason I’m letting him stay there. (Five minutes later…) He moved again! I give in. There’s enough room on the sofa between you for both of us. Pipsqueak can cuddle up with me. I need to teach him about napping duty, anyway.

Dexter: I’m glad he’s given in, because it’s hard work being eight weeks old…

Archie says: Pipsqueak, this is a barbecue. It means the parents cook dinner outside. Well, Dad does the outside bits after Mum preps them, and Mum does all the roasted veg in the oven and the salads. The potatoes are nice cold, but that’s for another day. Today is barbecue. The drill here is to sit by the table on the patio, stare hard and lick your lips until they give you chicken. You will like barbecued chicken.

There is also the possibility that Dad will drop something between the barbecue and the table, so keep an eye because you can swoop in and snaffle it. Now the vegetable patio garden is here, I think there’s a possibility that chicken might have fallen into the potato patch. We need to do a proper sniff-check.

Archie says: Pipsqueak, you need to learn your duties as Junior Edit-paw-ial assistant. A most important duty of being an author’s dog is to sit on her feet. Especially if she’s doing revisions and she’s stress-eating biscuits (not just because you can scrounge some, which is an EPA perk, but also because it’s nice to sit on her feet and let her know you love her and cheer her on). I’ll supervise this first one.

Dexter says: Senior Edit-paw-ial Assistant gave me a B- above in the appraisal for my ‘sit on my pet author’s feet’ assignment because I didn’t actually sit on Mum’s feet. I have resolved to Do Better and hope I get an A this time.

(Pet author note: he did.)