The Domestic Goddess

The Domestic Goddess

The newspaper reporters were being very careful. They needed to get more shots of the footballing mutt, but didn’t want to get caught. One sat in a tree and focused his long telephoto lens on the house, while the other was struggling into his postman’s outfit. The dog came into view, apparently making a cup of tea. Tree-man zoomed in . . . click, click, click.

Lara put two heaped teaspoons of cocoa powder into a mug and stirred. She cradled the mug in her paws and walked into the lounge, placing her drink on the table while it cooled. She picked a pen up in her mouth and finished the crossword.Sixteen across. . .fictional secret agent . . .five and four . . . a doddle, she thought, filling in the spaces with ‘James’ and ‘Bond’.

He was a spy too



She recalled being allocated her real name, GM451, a title given to her by the British Secret Service. It was the Secret Service that had reared her and invested in advanced learning techniques. Lara actually stood for ‘Licensed Assault and Rescue Animal’ and she was the canine equivalent of James Bond. Except, of course, that 007 is terribly good-looking and sophisticated, two characteristics that Lara lacked.It’s not that I’m ugly, more unusual, she thought. She was about the size of a Labrador, mostly white with large black patches splashed over her body and face. In fact, her markings were a bit like a cow’s, although she was offended when her owners pointed this out.A cow indeed! They are dirty, smelly, stupid creatures with muck all over their tails. Me, on the other hand, well, I have a shower every morning and I’m super-intelligent and toilet-trained.

Lara caught her reflection in the mirror.Mmm . . . definitely unusual. She had spiky black and white whiskers but her most distinctive feature was her ears. One flopped over her eye and the other stood upright. She put her paw to the sticky-up ear and felt the bullet hole. She shuddered as she recalled the encounter with the gunman just a few months ago. She also walked with a slight limp, another souvenir of her recent adventure. Lara had a bullet embedded in her thigh, wedged in so deep the vet had decided it was safer to leave it than operate.

Lara flicked on the TV but couldn’t settle. She had a nagging feeling that she was being watched. She wandered over to the window, put her paws on the sill and stared out into the garden. The photographer stopped clicking and nearly fell out of his tree in alarm. He sat perfectly still, hoping his green jacket would keep him hidden.

Lara scanned the garden and the parked cars in the road. The red Ford went unnoticed.Nothing. Must be imagining things. She wandered back to the sofa just in time to catch the news headlines.The same old troubles in the world, she thought. There was a piece about education and she smiled to herself as she reflected on her first year at spy school.I mastered English, French and German as well as a bit of Chinese. After just a few months I could understand more vocabulary than the average human, which is pretty impressive for a dog. She ran through a bit of French in her head. Oui,it’s still there. She smiled. Lara’s biggest frustration was that she could only speak one language – her native tongue of Dog. She would have loved to learn to speak Human but this was beyond the spy-training programme.But I can work a laptop and send emails using a pencil in my mouth to tap out the letters. I’m a keen sports dog. I am excellent at football, gymnastics, swimming and karate. I can drive, navigate, ride a horse and defuse a bomb. I am also intelligent enough to do jigsaws, play chess and write poetry. I mean, how many dogs can do that? she considered.I’ve got straight As in maths,English and science. In fact, the only exam I’veever failed is music, because it’s difficult to play the piano properly with these. She held up her paws.Iguess they do make me a bit clumsy, she sighed, wiggling her claws, wishing they were more like fingers. She flicked the remote and settled on a quiz show.Too easy. She could always answer the questions onMillionaire and, should he ever get picked, was on Professor Cortex’s ‘phone a friend’ list.He says I can bark the answer to A, B, Cor D, she thought proudly.

Lara trotted back to the kitchen and fetched the biscuit tin. She recalled the day that she’d been released from the Secret Service.One of the best days of my life, withouta doubt. She smiled.Being a secret agent wasgood, but being a pet is brilliant. She put the unopened biscuit tin on the table and eyed it longingly.I shouldn’t really, she thought, remembering her diet.

*

The doorbell rang.Mmm … what should I do? she thought.I’m supposed to be a normal dog and most dogs don’t answer the door. She peeped through the net curtain and saw it was the postman.Not the usual one, she observed.But I expect he’s local so he knows my secret. She trotted to the front door, jumped up and pulled the handle.

‘Err, Special Delivery,’ said the postman, apparently relaxed at seeing a dog answer the door. ‘Can you sign here?’ Lara took his pen in her mouth and signed the paperwork. ‘Thanks very much, err, La-la,’ he mumbled, squinting at her signature.

No problem, Mr Postie. Lara nodded at him and took the parcel, closing the door behind her. She went back into the lounge and ripped open the box. It was a clock, with a card from Auntie Elsie.How very kind, thought Lara, making room on the mantelpiece, before sipping the last of her cocoa.

Lara chose a DVD and waited while it loaded.

She remembered the deal she’d struck with the Secret Service. She could return to the Cooks as a family pet as long as she tried her best to behave normally, like any other dog.But what is ‘normal’, anyway? Surely I’m allowed to show off a little?

The DVD came on and she settled comfortably into the armchair. It was a cops and robbers film and her heart raced as she thought about all the crimes she had managed to solve. She recalled her first family mission …to blend into the background,acting like an ordinary domestic pet rather than a highly trained secret agent. But my cover was blown and the whole family were lured into danger, hence the bullet wounds. So this time I’m going to be more careful. Mind you, all the local residents already know I’m a bit special, so why hide myself away? They’ve seen me on the news, as well as driving a car in the village. If I feel like the occasional game of Jive-a-side football, then so be it. After all, it was behind closed doors. If I feel like going to judo lessons at the leisure centre, I will. If I want to go to the gym, what the heck! I suppose some people might say I’m showing off, but to me it’s normal. I’ve made a promise not to flaunt my skills outside the village. No picking fights with other dogs, no drawing unnecessary attention to the neighbourhood and absolutely no getting into the newspapers. In fact, the village community love having me around and are happy to keep my special skills secret.

Lara was proud of her achievements since moving into the neighbourhood.Let’s look at the facts, she thought.I’ve more or less stamped out crime around here. Teenagers know better than to misbehave in the village centre. There’s absolutely no litter dropped, and even burglars have got the message. The village is the safest, cleanest and happiest it has ever been – all thanks to yours truly, the one and only canine special agent. Her bullet-holed ear stood prouder than ever. There had been a bit of a local news splash early on, but it had all died down and the residents knew better than to create more publicity. My secret’s safe with them.

The undercover reporter entered the office and removed his postman’s outfit, satisfied with having successfully completed phase two of his plan. ‘Even easier than I thought.’ He grinned at his colleague. ‘And look at this, I even got the mutt’s autograph.’

He switched on the TV and fiddled with the remote until a picture of Lara’s living room was beamed on to his screen. Auntie Elsie’s clock contained a secret camera that was now safely in the dog’s house. The pair were delighted that the picture was so sharp. Now they could spy on the family twenty-four hours a day. ‘Perfect delivery,’ chuckled the pretend postman. ‘It’s absolutely first class.’

The reporters watched open-mouthed as Lara lay face down and did fifty press-ups. Next she stood and did a dozen star jumps.That’s better, she thought, as she opened the biscuit tin and helped herself to a couple of custard creams.I think I’ve earned them now.

She glanced at the picture of the children on the mantelpiece and felt a warm glow on the inside. And look how well I’ve adapted to family life. OK, I had a sticky start and, admittedly it’s not as exciting as being a spy, but there comes a time to hang up your gadgets and settle down. There are no airs and graces and I’m treated like one of the family rather than a special agent, but there’s love, gallons of the stuff, and that makes me grin, it really does. Life is fantastic.

Lara the domestic dog goddess stretched out on the sofa for her nap.I’ve watched a DVD, finished the crossword and read a couple of chapters of my book. It doesn’t get any better than this.

Little did Lara know that her costly life was about to be transformed into one of excitement and adventure.