It’s been a good day. I have retained my job as Senior Pest Control Officer (aka fly killer) and also learned from De about how I came to live with her and the tall person and the little person and Mr. ‘Crazy’ Parrot. I must remember to ask De and the tall person to ask the priests about my brothers and sisters when they visit St. George’s Monastery. Some may still be in Georgia but others might be in other countries. Wherever they are I would like to keep in touch.
Goodnight friends. Thank you for your lovely comments about me and the monastery of St. George and their puppies.
I was sitting with De this evening and she told me the story of how we first met. I was only six weeks old so I don’t really remember it clearly so I listened carefully. She said that I came from the famous nursery at St. George’s Monastery of Tabakini in Western Georgia, near Zestaphony. The priests there have bred Caucasian Shepherds since 1992 and have done much to champion the breed in Georgia and internationally. I may have told you that my father, Butkuna, is an international champion.
De said she and the tall person had wanted a Caucasian Shepherd for some time and made enquiries at the monastery and when I was ready a priest drove me to my new home in Tbilisi. De said that I was so small she could easily pick me up with one hand and I needed help getting down steps and for a while I was quite wobbly! I was also much, much smaller than the little person.
I was 10 months old yesterday. Neither De or the tall person can pick me up now, not even with two hands. If I stand on my back legs I can put my paws on De’s shoulders. The little person is much, much smaller than me. And, I no longer wobble!
When the tall person came back from the supermarket this afternoon he asked if he could have a word with me. We went to the kitchen and he asked if I could see anything that shouldn’t be there. Hmm, I looked around for any puddles of drool. No puddles. Had I left a half chewed bone? No. I couldn’t see anything. “What are these?” he asked. I looked up and saw several flies lazily circling the room. Oops! I hadn’t noticed those before.
You may recall that I am an expert fly killer but I must admit I recently put this hobby on hold because it has been too hot to jump around.
The tall person reached into a shopping bag and produced a fly swatter. It had a picture of a fly on it. At first I was pleased that he had gone to the trouble of providing me with a new tool for the job but he went on to say that as I was “too lazy” he would have to get rid of the flies. I was speechless. I had been fired!
When he left the room I quickly dispatched all of the flies (using conventional methods) and then found the job-stealing fly swatter and bit it in half!
The tall person later complimented me on clearing the flies from the kitchen. He said nothing about the fly swatter. Hmm, I think I have just been cleverly manipulated.