Wuff with the Smooth: Sirens

Waffle is set to embark on his greatest challenge to date. His mission? To keep his mouth shut for four hours.

You might remember from last year that we had considered taking the Hairy Fool to Wexford for a holiday but that ultimately, we (I) decided in favour of leaving him at home. The main reason for this is his inability to shut that hairy trap during car journeys.

Yes, yes, yes – he suffers from anxiety and heightened aspects of excitement, especially during a journey and yes, yes, yes – this translates into moaning and whining. You know the deal by now.

Somehow, the little humans have persuaded me that I must relent, quash the moratorium on travelling with Waffle and that ultimately, he should be permitted to travel to Ireland’s Sunny Southeast at Easter.

“Will we put a pair of Easter Bunny ears on him?” I asked at the dinner table this week. “Do you think that would put him off the whinging?”

“He’s coming and that’s it,” someone said. “We’ll put a pair of headphones on you and then you won’t be able to hear him, even if he is whining.”

Although I didn’t say as much, I am unsure if wearing headphones is conducive to good driving and thus compliant with the Highway Code.

“What about not being able to hear sirens?” I said.

“That’s the whole point,” someone replied.

Having timed the journey the last time, I know that it takes around four hours to travel from my doorstep to Wexford. That means, unless I wear headphones to block him out, I’d have to listen to high-pitched whining until Ardee at least. That’s a lot of whining – not to mention a lot of patience and self-restraint.

Strangely enough, I have come to realise that Herself and the little humans are more concerned about how I’m going to react than having to thole Waffle’s woes. Strangely enough, I’m kinda insulted by that reality. So I’m the liability now, am I? I’ve gone from Head of the Household to potential incident risk? The calming nasal sprays are for me now?

Of course, they’re anticipating that by the time we reach Ardee and Waffle’s siren is still going strong – WHEE-WHAW WHEE-WHAW – I’ll be white-knuckled and twitching with rage and what is more, resisting the overpowering urge to reach for him and fling him out onto the hard-shoulder on the M1.

Incongruously, belatedly appreciating this reality is making me want to take him more. Is that weird?

Still, I tell myself that there is something deeply heroic about a dog attempting a four-hour vow of silence. Baldy monks in monasteries have attempted less.

Last week as I was relating my whingy dog conundrum to a friend he suggested that I avail of some sedatives.

“Sure, I have to drive – there’s no use me taking sedatives,” I said. “Oh,” I added as realisation dawned. “You mean something to take the edge off for Waffle!”

Why didn’t I think of that? It’ll be like when the A Team needed to get BA on a plane. A quick dose of the good stuff and it’ll be night, night sucka!

At the time of writing, I have yet to ring the vet to see if such measures are available. Easter’s a fair bit away yet but really, I like the possibility so much I’ll be disappointed if the trancs can’t be prescribed.