damage
The Labrador Pact: Never resort to violence
The Labrador Pact: Never betray your master’s trust
The Labrador Pact: Never sniff for pleasure
The Labrador Pact: Have faith in the Eternal Reward
talk
Dogs like to talk.
We are talking all the time, non-stop. To each other, to humans, to ourselves. Talk, talk, talk. Of course, we do not talk like humans. We do not open our mouths and say things the way humans do. We cannot. We see the harm this causes. We know words, we understand everything, we have language, but our language is one which is continuous, one which does not stop when we decide to close our jaws. During every sniff, every bark, every crotch nuzzle, every spray of a lamppost, we are speaking our minds.
So if you want the truth, ask the dog.
Not that humans always hear us. Not that they always think we would have anything worthwhile to say. They command, we listen. Sit. Stay. Walkies. Here. Fetch. That is all the conversation we are allowed. All that most humans can cope with.
But we are not deterred. I mean, other breeds may get pretty pissed off about the situation and sometimes have to resort to a language humans can understand. As for the Labradors, we are willing to wait. And besides, we get to learn more this way. We get to sit and listen to it all. We hear the lies and smell the truth. Especially in Families.
After all, who but the dog knows the whole picture? Who but the dog can sit and watch reality unfold behind each bedroom door? The role play in front of the mirror, the whimpers under the duvet, the never-ending interrogation of their hairless bodies? We are the only witnesses.
And we are there when they are ready to pour out their hearts. When they are ready to reveal their unspoken loves.
We are always there. Listening to everything and talking our silent words of comfort.
normal
When I woke up this morning it was as if nothing had happened.
For those first few hazy moments I felt almost normal, the way I used to feel, before the Hunters had come under threat. But as the empty shoes by the back door slowly slipped into focus, a wave of nausea passed over me. Everything came back. Most of all, the pungent taste of blood returned to my throat, and I craved the time when I didn’t realise exactly what it cost to keep the Family safe.
Then, following the fear, there was a strange sense of relief as I remembered what was going to happen today.
As I remembered I was going to die.
pleasure
We are on the pavement outside Nice Mister Vet’s when Adam crouches down next to me.
‘I’m sorry, Prince,’ he says, his hand resting on my collar. ‘This is all my fault.’
I try to tell him that everything, in fact, is down to me. But of course, he doesn’t understand. He pushes the door open
