I, Henry, am alone.
Oliver: Henry, but what about me? I’m here!
I, Henry, am alone with a pesky little orphan. The one that answers to the name, well, I’d rather not say.
Oliver: It’s Oliver! Oliver Twist!
Yes, well, now where was I? Oh, I remember.
Once again, I was not privy to celebrating Thanksgiving, having been left alone with this happy hooligan (who shall remain nameless), while Cook travels east to visit with her daughter.
Cook leaves our abode everyday, without nary a thought about her royal charge: me. She makes no plans for me to visit with my minions whilst she’s away doing whatnot. And thus, as a result, I am confined to the four walls of this humble home, passing the day sleeping and thinking, and pining for food.
Oh, were I to have just a morsel! How I crave a slice of jerky or a filet of salmon. But alas, no. I have not eaten since breakfast and that was more than an hour ago.
The clock ticks ever so slowly around here, and I suffer the little pup, Oliver, in a silence that is befitting one of my stature. Unless a truck passes by and then I howl like a pack of coyotes under a full moon. After all, I am a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel with royal blood coursing through my veins! One that continues to be filled with the hope of one day returning to my rightful place at the British throne.
Oh, how I lament my plight!
For, my life wears a veil of nothingness. It is but an empty shell, and I am constantly hungry. Indeed, I am on the verge of starvation and sadly, I am exhausted from the solitude of my life.
Nothing ever happens here. I am trapped inside this lonely existence, searching for meaning in the stillness of the day and yet finding none.
Oliver: What about me? You’re not lonely. I keep you company!
I am sad and having Oliver Twist around makes me miserable. Did I mention food? We eat but it is never enough. I am constantly famished. When Cook dines, the lad and I take our positions by the table in the hopes of a scrap or two. I have trained Oliver to give me half of whatever he gets. But he is a slow learner, and my hopes of his share are always dashed.
Today we ventured into the patio. I wondered what I would find out there and so I looked.
And yet there was nothing to see. Such is the story of my life.
I contemplate how different my life would be had the Queen of England sent for me. Alas, I may never know.
I have been robbed of my heritage and am left with nothing but dust. Indeed, all we are is dust in the wind. Dust and a bit of drool.
Cook tells me I am in the autumn of my life. This news, though I do not understand it, does not sit well with me.
There is nothing left for me but to nap. Napping is the sweet honey of life. It is the only time I can forget about the Twist boy.
When I am awake, he continues to bite at my tail. Will he ever stop? I think not. He bites incessantly, and yet I feel nothing. Nothing but numbness.
Where will it end?
I can’t say.
My lot in life is not an easy one by any measure.
One is the loneliest number. Two can be as sad as one when the second one is a dog named Oliver Twist.
Speaking of the orphan, Oliver, when will whoever misplaced the wretched pup return to fetch him? Perhaps I should put posters up around the neighborhood that read something like this:
Found: One ruffian of a dog with no royal heritage to speak of.
Answers to the name of Oliver Twist.
Claim him and he’s yours.
Poor Oliver. He does not realize his own plight, which is much worse than mine. He thinks life is dandy, playing with his toys and running amok around the house while I stare at the nothingness about us. His tail wags at the drop of a hat as he literally bounces off walls, never suspecting how unhappy he must be beneath his finely combed hair and all his chew toys. Yes, I’m certain he’s really filled with sorrow. For, there is no escape from this abode of ours.
Oh, well. It is as they say. The heart is a lonely hunter. I think I’m due for another nap. It will take my mind off the fact that it’s been two hours now with nothing to eat. Sigh.
Sir Henry, you had me howling with this post! Oh you are a character! A royal one, but a character nevertheless. I’m sorry you’ve had to endure such a lack of royal treatment in Cook’s absence. One can only wonder what that one is up to when she’s gone, eh? As for Oliver, he’s a little scamp. I know it’s not easy, but try to understand that he is awestruck to be in your presence. And by the looks of it, this state of his is not going away! ha! Sending you a big hug, dear Sir Henry. Roxy sends kisses to you and Oliver! 🙂
Hi Bella, Henry’s busy reading up on the British monarchy. He swears there’s a mention of him somewhere in the book of royals. But he told me to let you know how much he appreciates you taking time to read his post, which he believes is one of his best. He also sends his best to Roxy. If you would kiss her on his behalf he would be much grateful. And that’s all he said before going back to his book. Sigh. He could be at it for hours. 😉
“The Twist boy”! LOL! They are too cute, even Oliver, sans a royal heritage!
Thanks, SomerEmpress! They really are a treasure! Happy Holidays!
To you as well!
That, my dear Monica, is the epitome of ((((CUTENESS)))
Have not been getting your notifications. Miss you! LOVE!
Xxx
ps. your Christmas background is wonderful!
Thank you, Kim. They work hard for their “cuteness,” making sure they get at least 20 hours of sleep everyday! I’m sad you haven’t been getting notifications. Perhaps you need to subscribe again? Glad you like my holiday background. I like the change myself!
O Henry! (Couldn’t resist) I’m Dixie, an adorable little Chihuahua girl, if I do say so myself. Consider yourself fortunate that Cook only got the Twist boy. She could have brought home a cat. Merry Christmas, Henry. *woof*
A cat is every dog’s worst nightmare. I suppose I do have that to be grateful for. Cook can be a bit daft at times, but happily, she’s not that daft. Oh, bother.
Oh dear Henry, I am so sorry you were hungry, left alone with no one but young Oliver to keep you company. Knowing cook however, She must have had treats galore when she returned. Young Oliver only gets cuter by the day, which I must say, makes you look even more handsome and regal, for you are royalty and one must not forget that. I’m certain with you tutoring Oliver on fine table etiquette, respect for one as stately as you and er, perhaps not biting your tail as much, his manner will be much improved and together you will be fine company for each other when cook goes away again. I would mail you a bone this instant if I could.
Madam, I take offense to your mention of Oliver getting “cuter by the day.” I beg your pardon? That is a travesty. I, on the other hand, am wickedly handsome and it is all I can do to keep the females of my species at bay. As for the bone, I’d appreciate you sending it to me post haste!
You might tell Cook you have heard about these dog walking agencies that charge $ per hour. Quite a deal when you consider they could walk two on the same outing. Hungry? You could point out to Cook how much money she could save by simply investing in more vittles.
I have told Cook that we need more, ahem, vittles, as you call them. According to that blasted woman, we have more than enough (though I don’t believe her, for if that were the case, then why am I always hungry?) Indeed, it’s not easy being a royal dog of limited stature. Sigh.
Oh, Henry, you need to go say hello to Doodles, who has written his way into Becky Green Aaronson’s blog. And please tell Cook she does you and Oliver a great service with these charming photos.
Why, that sounds like a splendid idea. Will do! Thank you, Dear Heart, for the suggestion. 🙂
Poor Henry!
My Lucy, though she looks a bit like Oliver, empathizes with your plight. She points out, and I hate to mention this, but your biggest issue appears to be nakedness. Why, oh why, is Oliver clad and you are not?
Barks and Treats from Ecuador (where they weave handsome sweaters),
Kathy and Lucy, the Lovely
Oliver really isn’t clad. He’s wearing a harness vest. But you’re right. I too have a harness, but it’s the traditional kind and nowhere near as attractive. Dash it all!
Henry, you truly need to adopt poor Oliver and teach him manners if he annoys you so. Perhaps then he will be better for you.
Such a sad dog story.
Oliver is not always that bad. He just needs a good talking to. Until then, I will continue to suffer in semi-silence.
Henry, I feel for you. It’s terrible to be left behind with only a pesky puppy for company. I know it’s small consolation, but at least you weren’t stuffed in the cargo hold of an airplane or made to suffer through a multi-day road trip. Although, I must say, I can stand the long drive when I know my person’s parents are waiting at the other end. Their yard is fabulous and I got to spend the whole week of Thanksgiving chasing raccoons and squirrels and playing in their pond. I guess it was mean of me to share that with you when you’re so lonely. But I promise, Cook will be home soon. I hope that will cheer you up.
Heaven forbid I were stuffed in any cargo hold of any airplane! When the day comes for me to head to England, I will travel first class and my minions will wait upon me, seeing to my every need! Now, that’s the way to travel!
Sir Henry, you poor darling! Dallas, too, claims he’s waay underfed, though the scale says otherwise. At least you have “company,” even if it’s just Oliver. Were it not for me working at home, poor Dallas would indeed be a lonely napper. And you should be glad Cook got away for a bit — gave you boys a chance to bond and all! You’re both quite photogenic, you know. Perhaps you can get jobs in the movies?!!
I’m so glad Dallas can relate to my starvation woes. Add to it, that young Oliver doesn’t always eat all his food, and tends to leave some in the dish. I of course scarf it up, but it’s so paltry the amount that is left. Still, I assume he does this out of respect for his elder, me, but in my estimation, he could leave more in the dish, couldn’t he?
Love to hear the continued travails of those poor, neglected dogs lol!!!
Thank you, Susan. I have many a story to regale you with about how I rest all day and do nothing, sometimes at a faster rate than other times.
Such a sad, sad dog story…
(love it!)
And all of it’s true. SIgh.
Henry, it is always a delight to hear from you. I’m so sorry your Thanksgiving didn’t include the succulent treats you so richly deserve.
Lisa, Cook more than made up for it upon her return. She brought me home a bone made solely of salmon skin. Utterly delightful!
Henry, Henry, Henry……
You should get out more…. Oh not of course cook has been away!!!!!
Young Oliver looks up to you Henry, mind you at his height there can’t be much young Oliver looks down on.
They do say Henry that humans often annoy the ones they are most fond of and I would guess that is the same with dogs, Royal or not. Young Oliver is really fond of you.
On Christmas day Henry get cook to take you a walk to visit those who have no food every day of the week, no warm bed to sleep in, no roof over their head and often no company either. Then realise how lucky you are to have cook to love, feed and house you and young Oliver who looks up to you….. Remember that Oliver is named after an orphan who had nothing and not enough food to eat…. Then realise how lucky you really are!!!!!
Merry Christmas young Henry and the same to even younger Oliver plus of course the ever suffering Cook, who I reckon out of the three of you is really the youngest at heart!!!
Thank you for your comments, Robert. Cook in particular enjoyed the remark about Oliver not having much to look down on. I enjoyed the part in which you wished me a Merry Christmas. Same to you, my good man!
These are the cutest damn dogs I have ever seen and very clever to be typing and all…
Thank you, Jodi. Learning to type was a God-send for me, and typing helps pass the time. Cheers!