Chapter 44 
(November 2013):

The Strange Case of Dr. Diarmuid and Mr. Camero

Most of the day he has very nice manners and is a real charmer. There are some favourite people he loves so much that he has to throw his front legs around their necks and give their necks and faces a wash.

But he at least shakes hands with everybody. One of the handlers at training asked Mummy, “Why does he keep backing up towards me? What does he want?” “Sit down on the grass and cross your legs,” Mummy grinned. Diarmuid likes nothing more than to back up and park on a person’s lap. Anybody’s.

The Brown Panter takes his treats gently and beguiles anyone who comes to the door. He’s perfectly behaved at Rally and Agility training (except for “a bit” of occasional barking when Mummy leaves him). Other dogs want to play as a reward; Diarmuid prefers to kiss and cuddle.

when it comes to leaving the house, his personality changes! When we go out the patio door to do our business in the backyard, the little creep pushes me to the side and elbows his way to the front. He becomes a maniac when Mummy leaves the house without him, getting especially furious when he realizes she tricked him into thinking she was going out the side door and then sneaked out the front door. Then Daddy needs ear plugs. Camero flies the length of the utility room on his back legs and throws himself at the door, barking at the top of his lungs (see left). It could be a Wheaten thing, because Tucker in Massachusetts does a similar act (see right). But I never did anything worse than howl and bark for hours when left alone and I had quit that at his age. Well, there was one boot of Mummy’s, … but we’ve forgotten that.)


When Camero does get out of the house, screaming like a banshee, he heads straight for his beloved car. If his crate door is opened, he throws himself into it, whirling around 180° and landing in a “sit” to bark madly, spitting and frothing, until Mummy is in her seat and starts the motor. Then there’s not a peep from him until he has to get out at the destination. You have to shut the crate door quickly or he’s back in before you can say “Jack Robinson”. You have to be crazy to be in love with a crate.

The Court Jester has three favourite places from which he can spy on Mummy. Under her desk when she’s at the computer, in the upstairs lavatory where he can observe the stairs in case she goes down. (He has finally given up the thought that she might escape through the lavatory window onto the roof.). His most strategic position is at the bottom of the stairs, blocking the front door and with a good view of the side door and the patio doors.

Diarmuid is a waterholic. When I beg for treats on our walks, he wants water, which Mummy carries for both of us in a bottle hooked to her belt. His favourite water fountain is the stone on our patio which magically bubbles when Mummy or Daddy presses a remote control. Daddy teases Diarmuid and turns it off just when The Brat has reached the spout. I almost feel sorry for the disappointed kid.  Almost ;-)



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