Loki the Lockdown Dog

Pack

1. Pack

I remember the snug surround of siblings and my mouth attached to my mother's teat. I can still recall the warm, sweet milk and the comfort of my family touching me on every side. I could see nothing, for my eyes weren't yet open, but I could feel, hear and smell everything – and all my senses led me to the same place – bliss. I could feel my mother's tongue caress my head as I sucked at her breast, and I could hear the gratified gurglings of my brothers and sisters. The aroma of my mother and her life-giving ambrosia filled my tiny nostrils. I felt plump, succulent, full and full of life too. This feeling of serenity and contentment would stick with me throughout my life, wheresoever I might travel. This was in stark contrast to the anxiety I would later sense radiating from people during the lockdown.

When I was a week old, my eyes opened, and I was able to take in my surroundings in more detail for the first time. My brothers and sisters were all around me in a big wooden box, and we all nestled atop a red duvet. They had bright pink bellies and shaggy fur. Some were grey and white like me, and some were brindle like my mother. My mother was with us most of the time, all snuggled up together, and we'd suckle her whenever we got the chance. It was heaven! Us pups would chase each other around the house, getting under people's feet, rough and tumbling it over the carpet. We'd cavort along hallways and through doorways, jumping over each other, yapping and swiping each other in play.

When we were a few weeks old, our Mum told us that we are lurchers - shaggy, with a long nose and long front legs. Lurchers can run and run and run – well I knew that bit, obviously. Does that mean a moose is also a lurcher? A gnu? You'll have to forgive me about the lack of detail concerning this portion of my life. For one thing I was only young, and everyone knows that pups forget things as they get older. For another thing, I had no idea that I existed as a separate being. When I looked forward, all I could see was my nose and my front paws, and when I looked behind all I could see was a tail. I thought I was an overseer or observer and quite different to my brothers and sisters, having only one pair of legs and an occasional tail or extra paw. I just was, and that was that – I never gave it too much thought. It didn't really occur to me that I must look just like my brothers and sisters. There was something else unusual about me, but I just didn't know it at the time.

As I've said, my memories are foggy, and I can't tell you too much about my first home except to say that there were two children and two adults. I can't see their faces or remember their names. But what I do remember was the joyful feelings I had when they picked me up, cuddled me close into their neck and told me I was gorgeous. I loved the way they said that word. They all lived in a great big, warm and cosy house, with a real fire we used to love and snooze by. When I think about it now, it seems that they loved me very much, which is why I don't really understand the next bit of my life. It is a mystery to me still, that they kicked me out from my family and my pack into the big wide world.

2. The Vets

I was still very young when my Mum told us that all pups were to go on our first outing. The atmosphere in the house was electric with excitement. We bounced around the place, skidding and jumping over each other in expectation. As we were leaving, my mother took me on one side, held me close into her chest and whispered in my ear.

"Remember that I love you, Loki. I'll always love you. Never forget that."

I was taken to a place called The Vets in a big cardboard box along with my brothers and sisters. The Vets was nothing like our house - there was no television, no children and no fridge full of food. It was bright, clinical, clean and smelt of disinfectant and bleach. The humans might not have smelt it, but we all could, and we grunted to each other in apprehension. Although I remember feeling decidedly uneasy, I was also curious. The people there were friendly, paid us lots of attention and stroked us too. But as our Mum had warned us, they soon began to stick needles in us. She'd told us we were all to be given vaccines to protect us from disease, so that we'd grow up big and strong.