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Bob

“Come on Bob.”

Bob is a retired sheepdog. A permanent fixture down ‘The Lane’, and as soft as a brush. He loves the young lads who play with him, and they in turn love him being around.

Regarded by some as slow, and by others even a nuisance, Bob rarely barks or puts himself about. He just is.

Maybe Bob belongs in the past. He will lie down in the middle of the road, at great risk to his personal safety, given the morons who drive down a country lane where kids and animals are playing at 60 mph.

Bob’s independence creates problems for those who expect dogs to jump on the shovel when they shout ‘manure’. He walks around with a look of peace, humour or curiosity on his face. Again, for those who want life be a pain, hard and serious, Bob rattles their cage.

“He ought to be back rounding up sheep” is a typical comment. What they don’t know is that Bob is an unofficial guard dog for at least three households. Indeed there is so much they don’t know it would shock them if they found out. Ignorance and bigotry is indeed bliss. And who wants their view of the world challenged? Whole lives would have to change. The social order would collapse. Decades of talking pure balls would be a wasted life. Smiling would be made compulsory. Dogs would get the vote.

“I’ve got to the stage in my life where if I don’t agree with anyone, I’ll say so [and sod their feelings],” Lady Sod was overheard confessing one day. “And that bloody dog is a pest. What is he anyway? A sheepdog-I’ve never seen him with sheep. He’s just a lazy mongrel.”

Lady Sod told it like it is. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, but hers was the only one that counted. Because Bob didn’t make a direct contribution to her world, he existed only as a pest. She would ridicule him, if such a thing was possible. Daft, stupid Bob. Get him off my land!

Others had no idea how to talk to Bob. One in particular, who liked animals, but found Bob daunting, could see his behaviour only through her own eyes, which were rigid and set, and Bob appearing happy was too much to bear.

“He never does what he’s told, so I’ve no time for him,” she gasped in frustration. “If you tell him this he does that, if you patronise him, he seems to laugh it off. Fact is he’s lazy and doesn’t like hard work. There are things that need doing, but Bob doesn’t want to know. I wish Lord Sod was still here.”

And yet the terminal snobs and miseries couldn’t publicly acknowledge that Bob was probably the most popular creature around. Kids, who just like Bob lived in the moment found a kindred spirit. Others, who treated Bob with respect never had a problem with him.

Bob missed nothing.

One night, he was wondering in the wood, and found a wise old owl looking down from a massive, ancient oak tree.

“Can I help you?” asked the owl.

“Are you talking to me?” said Bob, a little surprised.

“Yes I am. What’s a fine old dog like you doing in here? We only get strays or clever people, ‘studying’ what goes on. We don’t get talented animals like you.”

Bob, despite his lack of ego, was like everyone on the planet, work in progress. He was a bit of a chauvinist, and he knew he was talented, but could never admit it. He had lived a very simple life, at one with nature, and didn’t seek praise, and when he got it was OK. If he didn’t that was OK too.

It still hurts him to be ignored or criticised.

“I’m just enjoying life,” said Bob.

The owl was amused. “I bet that raises a few eyebrows down there eh?”

“Of course, but I like to think I’m teaching them something. There are those who are full of their own importance. Most of then think I’m daft, even stupid. It’s the most enlightened ones, the kids, who worry me. When they are young, they live in the moment, just like me. As they get older, worn down by school, their parents and the wall-to-wall rubbish in what they eat, drink, read listen to and watch, they forget who they are, lose touch with nature, and start feeling permanently anxious. The most unfortunate get labelled, ADHD, ADD to enable the poor devils to be drugged.”

“When I was young they even tried to get us sheepdogs to compete. Seeing how quick we could get our sheep in the pen. What did our masters do with the extra minutes they saved? Felt lousy that they hadn’t won. Even the winner created a rod for this back. Had to keep up the time he had set. Complete nonsense.”

“It’s more real you and I having this conversation,” said Bob to the owl with intensity, “but you know that anyway.”

Bob was amused by his dropping into ‘human’ ways of assuming that other party in communication knew nothing or was stupid. Of assuming kids only needed to ‘listen’ to teachers and parents, instead of doing what they did continuously, i.e. modelled their behaviour.

The owl smiled too. She knew she was no ‘wiser’ than Bob, just different, having been exposed to a completely different set of situations. Her mission was no different. She ‘owled’.

Bob knew that kids and adults learned by copying and modelling behaviour. Politicians and ‘role models’ who cheated, took bribes, lied, sent young people to war, took drugs, got drunk and treated the population with contempt were not only setting a particular example. The appalling example they set was made worse by the fact they assumed no-one would notice, they were above blame or were past caring.

But Bob avoided the trap.

“All I can do is live my life as I instinctively feel it should be lived. I’m a dog. I live in the moment. Kids love me, and I love them. Yes, I ‘guard’ the houses, but I don’t really do anything apart from walk, breathe, drink, bark and expel waste matter. As, I believe one of your greatest leaders once said, ‘My life is my message’. That will do me.”

And Lady Sod had been presented with her lesson daily. Like almost all lessons the universe sent to her, she ignored them. And because the universe was a little wiser than Lady Sod, it kept sending them. And guess who had a direct line to the universe?

Bob’s duty was to keep expelling his waste matter on her land…

JS, August 2006