Someone asked me the other day what gives me the confidence to write. Why do I feel like I have something to say that people might want to hear?
At the time, I was like, “well, because I’ve spent more than a decade doing it” and “some things I’ve said have meant something to someone” and “I went to a private school with a fantastic teacher to student ratio and for better or worse they told us all we could do whatever we wanted to do! My parents agreed!”.
Later that day, I was like, time to write a newsletter!!! It’s been a month since the last one, I promised myself I wouldn’t write another one till I handed my manuscript in to my agent, and I’ve done that now (!!!!!!), so… here we go. Newsletter time, baby!
And then I was like
Hang on
What have I got to say??? And why would anyone want to hear it?
Three times I contemplated publishing a “day in the life of my dog,” written by my dog. I wrote a really long list of things I believe, including but not limited to the universal truth that no fancy restaurant desert will ever be better than scoops of ice cream. I wondered if it was time to write about how my first ever job as a teenager was being a professional fairy. I drafted a manifesto in my head about how it’s time to bring back the fax machine.
And then I started thinking about how there are more than a thousand of you now, who read this. Some of you joined me around when I got very angry about Joanne Rowling; maybe you’re expecting something similarly furious. Others found me via the interview I did with the excellent
; what if they’re expecting more eloquent taking down of the beauty industry? Yet more signed up when I published this chat with wonderful ; would those of you wish I was bringing you more profiles of awesome women?And then I thought once more about publishing a piece ghost-written by my dog.
Then I thought, can I do something that silly, while there’s genocide taking place?? After I’ve just watched a horrifying Netflix doco about a TikTok cult? While I’m living with a debilitating chronic illness? Days after I cried into my pancakes on the weekend because I saw my former best friend’s husband?
AND THEN
I FOUND COURAGE
AND I SAID TO MYSELF
GET IT TOGETHER GIRL
TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS
YOU’VE BEEN A RESPECTED JOURNALIST MANY YEARS NOW
Publish. The guest post. Written, By. Your dog.
So, here it is.
Bert is a middle-aged shih tzu who specialises in napping, yelling, and cuddles. He grew up in a hoarder’s house alongside other animals, with whom he competed for food. He was saved by the legends at Battersea Dogs and Cats Home, who looked after him before he found his forever home with a well-meaning writer and a very kind baker. He also goes by the names Bertrando, Little Bertie The Dog, Nugget, Angel, and Best Boy In The World. He once appeared on Australian breakfast television alongside the heading “World’s Best Boy”.
A Day In The Life Of Me, Bert, A Dog
dead of night patrol for cats, birds, thunder, fireworks, movement. respond to noises I hear outside. sleep.
7am exhale loudly once outside the bedroom door
7.30am leap onto the bed into the woman’s arms. Every morning she asks me if I am the most beautiful boy in the world. Often there are follow up questions; she wants to know how I got so cute, was my mother a muffin, am I a precious nugget, aren’t we so lucky we found each other. I lick the inside of her elbow many times. If he is in range, I lick the man’s nose/neck/eyebrow as much as I can
8.30 go back to sleep in my preferred relaxation position: the beetle (on my back, legs in the air, tummy out)
8.30ish run into the kitchen! Suddenly and with great purpose! Stand at the back door! Get low to the ground and run to the back corner of the garden where there is a gap in the fence and one time I saw a cat through the gap in the fence so I must check there every morning for the cat! Do rounds of the garden, checking anywhere else a cat has previously been sighted. Do a couple of warning shouts so that any cats nearby know that I am here and I am Bert.
9ish trot in proudly, sit on the woman’s lap, accept her undying affection
9.30 check that breakfast has been served (I don’t eat my breakfast till the afternoon but I like to make sure the service is reliable here)
9.40 walk!!!!!!! The man takes me to the park, where I smell as many smells as I want, at my own pace. I am rude to at least one male dog. I look out for the love of my life, Coco, a poodle… even if I see her, she is aloof with me, I cannot contain my excitement to see her, she barely acknowledges me, I think about her all day.
They call me Bertie Two Poos for obvious reasons. On the way home I like to play a game called How Slow Can You Go
10.30 the woman dunks my fabulous dirty paws into warm water and lovingly dries them like I haven’t just put a lot of work into getting that grubby. She gets me a ball to chase and once again seeks to verbally confirm whether I am the best boy in the whole world, even though she seems to already possess this information.
11-3 snooze on the soft surface of my choice (very much asleep but let me tell you this, if the doorbell goes, I’ll be at the door, yelling, so fast you will barely be able to see me)
4-5 MISCHIEF
The woman lays out a selection of my smallest enemies (a purple snail, a bear that I have almost destroyed, a fox with a neckerchief, and a smiling brussel sprout bastard called Russel Sprout). I choose one to destroy. I attack.
Around this time I also want a smackerel. The woman has emptied my breakfast kibble onto a “sniff mat” and I find every last one and gobble it so good.
6pm dinner is provided, the good stuff, the wet food. They approach me with a toothbrush first and scrub what teeth I have left, which I let them do, but I make it known that I’m not thrilled about it.
6.30-7.30 guard the people while they have dinner, stare at the garden, check kitchen floor for traces of cheese, evening snooze
8 cuddle time with the man, in front of the television. If there is a dog on screen, they will be hearing my thoughts.
8.30 highlight of my day light of my life the best time ever the greatest event, it is wee time. I run to the back wall to do my evening patrols. When I am satisfied there are no cats on my property, I will do 1 x wee, sit around enjoying the soft evening breeze, and then! An opinion comes to me! That I must share! And so I do, loudly.
10.30 the man carries me like I am a baby, the woman is distraught, she will miss me overnight, she says. The man places me gently into my own bed right outside their door - hilarious that they think I might go to sleep straight away when there is work to be done. I check the property is secure and cat-free and then, only then, I will fall asleep on the sofa or the bottom step. I dream that I am chasing all the cats I have ever seen and the people are so proud of me and they give me a present and the present is all the cheese I want forever and ever
OH HEY
Why not introduce yourself in the comments? Tell me about your dog? Remind me that I’m not alone in the world? That kinda thing xx
ENTHUSIASM is a newsletter for people who feel strongly about things. Like, for example, potatoes, human rights and former members of the boy band One Direction. Here, we contain multitudes. You might enjoy previous posts, like An Insomniac’s Success Story or this interview with Kylie Minogue’s bass player.
Kate Leaver is an editor, author, and former professional fairy. She writes about dogs, friendship, love, pop culture, sadness, and Taylor Swift. She’s currently writing her first novel, a cautionary tale about fame. She’s represented by Jemima Forrester at David Higham Associates and she really really loves her dog.
I loved every word of this, Bert. I want to hear about cults and also being a professional fairy
LOVE a day in the life of Bert. It seems somewhat familiar.
We have Angus, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. He is just over two years old and is a chonky floofball who just loves spending time with us. We made the mistake of letting him on to our bed when he got fixed as he couldn't get into his sleep cage with the cone of shame on. Since then he refuses to sleep elsewhere at night.
He is now in charge in bed, sleeps on my pillow and wakes me with licks on my head. But we wouldn't have it any other way.