There once lived a dog, called Doopsy. It had long brown scraggy-looking hair, a little like a setter, with a touch of mongrel (and mange). A pretty ordinary looking dog to be honest. But heaven help you, should you ever utter that in its presence, for this dog was special – it was a singing dog!
And so each night, when all lights went out and mother and father to bed, the dog settled back, on its two hind legs, rocked back its head and smacked its lips, then quick intake of breath – ‘Hawwooo! Hawoo-woooo!’
‘Good heavens above!’ ‘Good grief!’ ‘Was that you?’ ‘Certainly not!’ ‘Was it the fish?’ ‘It was Doopsy!’ ‘Is it dying or crying, in pain?’ ‘For Gods sake, go see.’ So mother went down, in a pink frilly nightie, slippers to match and her hair in a net.
‘Poor Doopsy! Come here!’ She’d stroke him and cuddle him, pat him and baby him (in a rather nauseating way, it must be said) until he thought he must have the finest singing voice on Earth! As soon as she left he thought, ‘I’ll please her some more.’ And away – ‘Hawooo!’ to the moon through the door, which shyly hid itself in the clouds.
The father was not so gentle. Night after night he’d grumble and grouch (‘Hawooo!’) grab his slippers and gown and thud his way to the dog. Bang! Bang! on the door. ‘Keep quiet! Or else! Mother made less noise in labour!’ The dog didn’t like the father and turned his back to the door in a huff.
But Doopsy just loved to sing! It drove the mother to distraction until she decided to take him to the vet. ‘He should figure out what’s wrong, we pay him enough.’ So the vet did all the checks – lights into the eyes and blood tests and heart checks and making him walk around a bit, but all to no avail. ‘I can find nothing medically wrong with your dog. In fact I’m the one suffering.’ He lifted his bandaged hand.
‘Sorry about that, he’s got a thing against thermometers.’ Old Doopsy’s mouth curled upwards at the corner.
So the singing continued (he had by now invented 10 lilting ballads, a gorgeous country tune, two sprightly dance numbers and an unusual polka) and in her despair the mother turned to a dog psychologist! Another audience he thought, and he began his favourite tune, which told of his first love and went something like –‘Hawoo-wa-woo! Woooo-ar-ar!’
‘How terribly sad that sounds,’ said the dog psychologist, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘My mother never loved me you know.’
‘Never mind about your mother, what about the dog?’
‘Well, maybe he’s lonely.’
So they went out and bought him a lady dog, as brown and scraggy as he was, but with longer eyelashes (and worse breath). They called her Hali (short for ‘halitosis’) My God! Thought the dog, a duet! Now he knew the owners loved him. He couldn’t wait to thank them and did so in the only way he knew how- he started singing! He howled and she panted and let out a bark, he ‘arr arr’d! and she ‘arrffed!’ and the two together sounded, well to doggy ears at least, like a symphony. But to the father…
‘Hells Bells!!! This is getting beyond a joke! It’s worse than the death cry of some Apache Indian. Mother, where are my slippers?’
‘You’ve got your hush puppies on already!’
‘I don’t want to wear them, I’m gonna beat out the ‘Anvil Chorus’ on those dogs heads!’
The final straw came just a week later. The two dogs were tied up outside the newsagents while mother and father went in to get the papers.
‘Look at all these people passing by’ thought Doopsy, ‘and this time I’ve got a duet! What a show I could give!’ So guess what happened next folks, yes, the two leaned their heads back, licked their lips and then in unison –‘Woo arrr!’
Well, people certainly stopped at this incredible music/racket (depending on whether you’re a dog or a human) but they were shocked.
‘These dogs are in pain! Look! They’ve just been tied up and left! A disgrace!!! A real disgrace!!!’
By the time the mother and father came out a nasty, angry crowd had formed. The dogs were singing on, eyes shut, oblivious, lost in a world of beautiful music where all was biscuits and walkies and cats to chase. They were rudely interrupted however, dragged away from the shop, a terrible din of cursing and shaking of fists behind them as they were bundled into the Ford.
‘For God’s sake, woman put your foot on it!!!’ There was banging on the roof, slapping palms on the windows and low kicking at the tyres. The two just managed to escape. But it was definitely the final straw…
The next day the dogs were woken by the smell of fresh bacon under their twitching noses. It was the father, leaning over them waving it at them with an expression they hadn’t seen before- he was smiling. They were suspi —- what lovely smelling bacon!
‘Follow me you two, come on!’ They followed him out to the car. He opened the back seat – more bacon and sausages!!! They leapt aboard. He closed the door and went round to the driver’s side. He drove off.
He stopped at a lay-by, out in the midst of the countryside. It was still early in the morning, a mist hung over the hills. He opened a door and they jumped out. Cor it was a little nippy! A cold dampness hung in the air. They heard a car door slam shut, an engine rev up and their car drive away! First they looked at each other, then at their green and hilly surroundings and then again at each other. Then they started to shiver.
An hour later, a mini came creeping over the hill and the two dogs could see someone peering with their eyes close up to the windscreen. As the car got closer it pulled up into the lay-by. Out of it stepped a little old lady, with curly grey hair, glasses, bent over nearly double, wearing a knitted cardy. She was very old. Lucky she wasn’t a dog, as her age in dog years couldn’t have been worked out without a team of mathematicians and a big calculator.
‘Oh dear oh dear oh dear! You poor little darlings! Oh who would do such a thing? You’re coming with me.’ She put them in the car, rubbed them with a blanket and went to the driver’s side and pulled away from the lay-by.
‘I’d better get a few bits and pieces for you two. And I reckon Gladys will come over if I give her a call. And I’d better make up a bed in the hall. And get the gas heater going. So much to do!’
Doopsy was very happy. He only knew one way to show his happiness, so back the head went once more and ‘Arrrrr- arrf!’ But this time the woman wasn’t shocked or frightened or angry. No, this time the audience was stone deaf! They sung their hearts out and every now and again the old lady would turn and smile at them, so Doopsy would hang back his head and sing some more…