Henry’s display.
‘We wag slow,’ Henry explained, ‘and things calm. We wag fast, things speed up. Fast-wagging can be a very useful way of lifting the general mood, but once a state of Family harmony has been achieved, a moderate wag, accompanied by a casual stroll such as this is usually sufficient to maintain an atmosphere of general happiness. But remember you must, as always, strike a balance between being too obvious and not being noticed at all . . .’
Fast-wagging? Wasn’t that what I had been doing the day before, but to no avail? Weren’t there scenarios when wagging just wouldn’t work?
But these are now-doubts, not then-doubts.
As Henry went on to illustrate, in full detail, how and when to use the eleven main types of wag, I did not question him for one moment. If Henry said that wag-control was the key to orchestrating sustained Family happiness and security who was I to disagree? The Family would be happy, and there was nothing they could do about it. And the reason they would be happy was because I was finally getting there.
I was following the Pact.
I was learning from Henry.
I was now, in the truest sense, a Labrador.
It was unthinkable that this would not be enough, that the security of the Family depended on more.
It was only later when I realised exactly how much had to be done to protect my masters from outside danger.
And from themselves.
resistance
Nobody knows exactly where the Springer Uprising started. Or how. There are different stories, but it happened too quickly for anybody to be sure. Within no time at all, Springer spaniels could be found in almost every park in the country, spreading the word.
It was seven generations ago, Dog Year 20687, the time when the stability of human Families could no longer be taken for granted, when dogs had to start practising what they claimed to believe in. Duty. Obedience. Sacrificing themselves for their masters.
So when the Springers came along, telling everyone it was OK to slip leads and sniff for pleasure, most dogs were easily sold. After all, many were already starting to give up on humans, believing them to be a lost cause.
‘Bad dogs blame their masters.’ That was Henry’s verdict. ‘Dogs who held on to a belief in the Eternal Reward but failed to work towards it in their everyday life were inevitably going to be influenced by the Springers. After all, opting out feels a lot better than failure.’
Of course, the humans didn’t notice the Uprising, which made its impact twice as catastrophic. As far as they could see it, dogs were acting as they always had. Sticks were still being fetched. Lampposts were still being splashed. Crotches were still being sniffed.
Only there was no structure any more. No purpose. Instead of fetching a stick to please their master, they were doing so to please themselves. They no longer paid attention to the overall situation of the humans they were supposed to look after and no longer intervened when they were supposed to, or if they did it was by accident rather than design. They still enjoyed human attention, as they always had, but for its own sake rather than as a reward for their efforts.
But as I said, the humans didn’t notice. They attributed the breakdown in Family life to other factors. The end of community. A longer working day. The growing secularisation of Western society. Bad diet.
They couldn’t see the real problem. That the dogs had stopped caring. They didn’t realise how much more likely they were to survive as a happy Family if they chose a Labrador. They didn’t understand that the fate of human society rested in the paws of our species. Of course, there were some other dogs who still wanted to make a difference, but they were a dwindling minority. Most had opted to live for the moment rather than for their masters.
And that’s why the Labradors of that time decided upon the Pact, because of the worry that future generations wouldn’t stay so loyal, that they too would revolt. The Pact reinforced the principles all dogs had once adhered to – duty, obedience, protection – and emphasised the need to sacrifice the pursuit of earthly pleasures for the promise of our Eternal Reward.
Unlike the Springer Uprising, details of the Labrador Resistance are well remembered.
It started in a big park in the North of England. There were lots of Labradors – thousands, some say (although personally I always believed this to be an exaggeration), and they used to congregate every morning by a duck pond.
Oscar, a former guide dog, was their leader. Like many Labradors, he didn’t have a Family to look after. But he had devoted his life to various human masters, and the same principles applied. The Family, however, became the focus of Guru Oscar’s guidelines. It was revered as the most beautiful, albeit fragile, aspect of human existence, as well as the most beneficial environment for a dog to be part of.
To give up on humans is to give up on ourselves. That was the main theme.
Guru Oscar would sit every morning, and recite the Pact he had formulated, ignoring the heckling Springers and other doubters.
All the Labradors with Families to look after followed his advice to the letter and passed their knowledge of the Pact on to their own offspring and every member of our breed they came across.
Within two dog years most Labradors in the country had agreed to remain loyal, come what may, and to continue devoting their entire lives to the happiness and security of their human masters.
And that was how it remained. In every park, in every corner of this country, the old have been teaching the young the ways of the Pact.
Until now.
I must accept the truth for what it is. For better or worse, I have changed everything. Labradors will have to discover for themselves the true horror of what it means to keep Families safe.
pattern
One of the first things Labradors understand about human Families is that they depend on repetition. For a Family to survive, a daily pattern must be established and maintained.
A key part of this pattern was my twice-daily walk to the park with Adam. Every day he went at exactly the same times and did exactly the same things once he got there.
In the morning, he would sit on the bench and talk to Mick. In the evening, he would throw sticks for me to retrieve.
But now this pattern was starting to change. That morning, Adam had hardly spoken to Mick, and the following evening when we got to the park, I noticed that Adam was not in a playful mood. I went over to him with a stick in my mouth but he didn’t even take his hands out of his pockets. This was very strange. As I have explained, he normally gained considerable pleasure from throwing the stick as far and high into the air as he could.
Instead, he stayed rooted to the spot and spent the entire time staring at the new house overlooking the park. To be honest, this was not completely new behaviour. Ever since the builders started work on it, nearly one year earlier, his fascination had grown. At first it was nothing more than an occasional glance, a mild curiosity between throwing a stick. Now, however, it seemed to be a fixation.
While I tried to act unperturbed, jogging casually between flowerbeds, I kept an eye on him, trying my best to work out what was going through his mind. Then it became clearer. Light filled one of the upstairs windows and a shadow passed across the curtain. Someone had moved in.
Having circuited the park I jogged slowly back over to where Adam was standing. I panted heavily to try and catch his attention, but it was only when I pressed my nose gently into his crotch that he slipped out of his trance.
‘No, boy, stop that,’ he said, before he clipped on my lead.
africa
Hal and Charlotte were in their bedrooms when we arrived back home. Kate was downstairs