As part of our connecting Creative Chats, Dean telephoned a local resident – and got the dog’s side of the picture.
A Creative Chat in Laxfield
MR PICKLES OF LAXFIELD
I’m a chiweenie, cross between a chihuahua
and a sausage dog. Mr Pickles they call me.
I’m turning five this year. She says
I’ve been a godsend all my little life.
Snow, rain or hail she has to take me out
four times a day. She’s got an off-road scooter
so we can go over fields or up to the allotment.
We love going up there. Solitude she calls it.
They all know us, well, the whole village knows me.
How’s Mr Pickles, they say. That’s because
I’ve got a bit of an attitude, she says.
When you’ve got a dog like me, it’s a big help.
She says I’m spoilt. I do sleep in the bed
under the quilt, sit on the furniture, I’m only small.
But when she’s on the phone, I go into one
‘cos she’s not giving me her full attention.
And if she puts EastEnders on, that’s a no-no.
I don’t like Danny Dyer. Or those meerkats either.
I get on the couch, bark my head off.
She can record them, watch them when I’m asleep.
We do understand each other. If she has a seizure,
I’ve learnt to bring her out of it. And when
I tap the fridge with my paw, that means
it’s dinner time. She has learnt that.
And if she wants to go somewhere different
she puts me on her lap and we’re off on her scooter.
Summertime we take a sandwich, go as far as Cratfield.
I won’t tell you what she puts in her flask!
My favourite walk is in the graveyard.
She prefers up the allotments. You look down
and see the top of the church through the trees,
listen to birds, watch rabbits, hares, muntjacs.
Of course, everyone in the village knows where
we’ve been because of her tyre marks but
when people ask us, she says, We’ve been to the top
of the world and we’ve looked across far and wide.