I’m relaxing in my doggie bed after supper when Mum comes in waving my favorite toy, a stuffed lamb, around. I ignore her, and she looks at me with a look of concern. “What’s wrong, Josie?”

What’s wrong? Does she really need to ask? Snort-snort. This Cockapoo is not excusing her asinine actions. Did she really think Lammy, my favorite stuffed toy, needed to be run through the washing machine? At fourteen-years-old, I need a little peace, not people messing with my favorite things.

Mum forgets that for every scent receptor she has, I have about 50. Lammy had just got back those yummy smells from the last time Mum washed her. She bends down and studies me. “You aren’t still mad, are you?”

Snort-Snort.

She goes to the refrigerator and gets out the jerky. I try not to sniff or I’ll be tempted. She knows I love our after-supper game of retrieving Lammy for small pieces of jerky. Why hadn’t she also known I love how Lammy smells because of Mum’s jerky-smeared fingers touching her fur? It’s a much better smell than that flowery laundry detergent.

While Mum breaks the strip of jerky into small pieces, I look at Lammy. She’s been with me since the beginning. Mum has stitched her up a few times. That’s the other thing. Lammy lost some of her stuffing in the wash and she isn’t as plump as I like her.  When I toss her about now, she feels too skinny. I sigh. Not that I play with her much anymore.

It’s been tough getting old. Oh, I can still run when I see a squirrel daring to come into my yard, but I’m not as fast as I was. And those teasing tail-twitchers know it.

My legs might not work as well as they did, but I’m as clever as always. Mum thinks she can fool me with those yucky-tasting allergy and arthritis pills by hiding them in liver sausage, cheese, or peanut butter. But I know what she’s up to. Some days I pretend to swallow them and then spit them out in hidden corners of the house. In fact, there’s one in the corner near the refrigerator right now. 

Hiding is one of my specialties. Mum probably remembers the first time I perfected it because it scared her. I was only seven weeks old and had just come to live with Mum and Dad. I was exploring the back deck when Mum talked about needing to water the flowers. Heartbeats later, this roaring sound and a gush of water sent me running for cover. I hid behind the stack of lounge chair cushions. I stayed there quivering. After Mum shut the scary hose off, she called for me. I peeked out, but I was too scared to come out.

Mum hurried to make sure I hadn’t run onto the road. Dad searched in the back and front yard. When a friend walked by, she helped too. It was the friend who finally found me shivering behind the cushions. I got extra cuddles that day.

Mum scoops up the delicious-smelling jerky pieces. Mmm, they do smell awfully tempting. Maybe I could just play the retriever game for a little while. I sit and give Mum my puppy eyes. They work every time. Mum picks up Lammy with her greasy, great-smelling fingers. She tosses her down the hall and I run after her. After the tenth toss, Lammy is smelling much better.

“All done.” Mum always says those words to let me know the game is over. When she heads to the sink to wash her hands, I sit and watch her. Mum’s really not that bad. Sure, she needs a little more training, but there’s hope for her. I might even jump up on her lap later for a cuddle. But first, I quietly pad my way into the living room. I pick Lammy up by her foot and look around. There has to be somewhere where Mum won’t find her.