the critic

Our dog Maisie knows her own mind and has strong views on the way things should be:
“Get uuup“, she implores each morning at daybreak.
“I have to go for a walk nowwwww“, at approximately 6.30am and between 4.00 and 6.00pm each day.
” I want some of your food. Give me some. Pleeeeease“, whenever food is available, even when we know she won’t like it.
“You get lost. Go away. Stay away from me and my mothers”, to any other dog within sight as well as joggers, cyclists, men in hats and other abominations.
“It’s bedtime. Go to bed. Pleeeeease”, after about 8.30pm, nightly.
“Move over”, to both Justine and I as the three of us struggle to all fit on the couch.
Recently, she has become a music critic.
Someone over our back fence has taken to practising their (amplified) acoustic guitar and occasionally singing on pleasant weekend afternoons.
It has sparked Maisie’s displeasure.
As soon as the muisic starts, it’s bark, bark, bark-bark (read “Shut up, Shut up, SHUT. UP!) The music doesn’t often last long in the face of a prolonged and persistent bout of barking.
Then last week, she howled.
And the music stopped.