The Princess Clio Diaries: Musings on my life with my human – Day 1

 

 

 

 

 

Clio: Ok so, Day 54 and the..

I put down my pen and she glances at me and stops.

Me: Day 54? What happened to Days 1-53?

She waves a little white paw in the air.

Clio: You’re the writer, you fill them in. It feels like Day 54 to me. Should I continue or are you going to interrupt me at every stage?

Me: You know, a small subset of people think it I am weird to love animals as much as humans? Why do you look puzzled?

Clio: You are weird.

I pick up the pen and make a gesture towards her.

Clio: So, as I was saying, Day 54 and my human accompanied me on a brisk walk down the lovely country lane – Yes, what is it?

Me: Could we at least refer to me as something more complimentary?

Clio: You have a problem with the truth? You’re human, you’re my only subject, ipso facto, you’re ‘my human’.

Me: I didn’t know you knew Latin?

Clio: What did I say about interruptions? We must hurry, if this works on the same principle as my 7 dog years to your 1 human year then I have just 7 minutes of inspiration per day.

Me: You think that’s funny?

Clio: I crack myself up. Now, where were we?

I look back at the notepad.

Me: I should have left you down the bog country lane.

Clio: You wouldn’t!!

Me: We’ll see. Go on.

Clio: My subject…my human, no? What would you like then? Especially since you were so kind as to come up with a pretty decent title for me. Though why on earth you picked such a long one is beyond me. I would have been satisfied with something short and sweet like ‘Her Royal Highness, Princess Clio’.

Me: I wanted to give a sense of your authority.

(Under my breath): And limit its scope.

Clio: Did you say something?

Me: No.

Clio: I like it. ‘Her Royal Highness, Princess Clio of Cloogantoverville’. It will be difficult to emblazon across a jacket but it is fitting. Why tack on the ‘Ville’ at the end of the name?

Me: Don’t know really. Wanted to have an Irish and American feel to it.

Clio: Right. Well, I’d like to shorten it in everyday conversation to ‘HRH Princess Clio the Pretty’.

Me: Ok, HRH, what’s next?

Clio: I was thinking that since these are my musings on you and my life here, I would start by letting you tell readers how pretty I am and maybe a few details about my good nature and gentle character as well as my very regal bearing.

Me: Well, I do write fiction. Should I include the fact that I had to wash poop off your big fluffy backside this morning? You know, I now get why my dad looks at me sadly and shakes his head and says ‘You used to have such potential.’

Clio: My backside is not big!! Besides I like my hair.

Me: You should have a gold medallion to hang around your neck. You could pass as a Greek guy then, with all that chest hair.

Clio: Would you like me to talk about the time Freda wanted to call the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals on you?

Me: I knew you were behind that!

Clio: Well, you have to admit the haircut you gave Hamish was cruel.

Me: You try shaving a wriggling dog with one of those hand power razor things.

Clio: You didn’t think of stopping after the first few jagged swathes of hair were gone off his back?

Me: (muttering) It was an expensive razor thing. Hey, it might still be in the cupboard somewhere.

Clio: You bring that thing near me and you will be eating through a feeding tube too.

I retreat to doodling in the notepad.

Me: are you nervous about your surgery on Friday?

Clio: What, with the specialist flying in from Israel just for me? And a top vet surgeon in Dublin?

Me: Right. So it is just me.

Clio: You worry about everything. I’ve come through seven surgeries on my mouth and I’ve got this feeding tube stuck in my neck, do you see me complaining?

Me: Yup.

Clio: When?

Me: What do you call running from the towel and rubbing your wet self into every cushion in the house?

Clio: A royal protest. Besides you shouldn’t have cream-coloured fabric covers. Pink is much more my colour.

Me: I’m getting a headache. Your seven minutes of daily inspiration are surely over by now?

Clio: You’re getting old.

Me: Hey! Eight in dog years is older than I am now. You think maybe we should retire the ‘Princess’ thing now? Maybe call you Milady Dowager or something?

Long silence.

Me: I’m going to pay for that, aren’t I?

Clio: Human, you have no idea how much…