This is your Head Dog Speaking

Me at Waterpolo, they have a marvelous tuckshop

Friday 25 October 2013 started off in the usual fashion. He had a 7.00am meeting and had His customary early morning cup of Rooibos with Her at the kitchen table. I didn’t bother to stir from my basket – what was the point? Storm, of course, was behaving like an immature border collie and was running around yapping for no reason and demanding that the ball be thrown for her repeatedly down the corridor. Hopefully she will grow up soon. At the moment she is a real challenge.

Everything quietened down when He left for school, but it did not take long for Storm to decide that I was far too comfortable in my basket. Her latest childish and very irritating trick is to get hold of my collar and tug. Sleep was now impossible and I shuffled off to see what was in the breakfast bowl. Good thing for Storm that she was not brought up on the same street in that Stellenbosch township that I was. She would have been taken out permanently before her first birthday.

I always enjoy the morning walk round the Campus with Her as we meet so many of the other 365 dogs. The 365 Club was something He started when He first became Headmaster of Wynberg – neighbours could walk round the campus with their dogs for 365 days a year provided that they paid R365 annually. I constantly hear Him say that it must be the only club in South Africa which hasn’t raised its subscriptions fees for 15 years.

Storm. No-one asked me if I wanted a sibling.
What were He and She thinking?

We normally meet the same old crowd. I do enjoy Max and Percy, who live on Count Labia’s estate. As Head Dog, I always enjoy hobnobbing with those who are in the same social class as I am. I usually try to avoid the over-the-top excited attentions of Bella, a Jack Russell cross, who is clearly very common. I also make a point of studiously ignoring the unsolicited and vulgar advances of Boris, a Rottweiler from the neighbourhood. At times, I feel rather like the Dowager Countess from Downton Abbey – what is the world coming to when we have to rub shoulders (noses?) with the common herd?

The way Storm simpers like a tart round Boris is pathetic. No taste.

By the time we are finishing our morning perambulation around the Campus, it is normally close to first break. I really do feel that I have to play my part in keeping the campus clean (noblesse oblige?) so I consider it my duty to pick up those crusts and sandwiches discarded by so many thoughtless schoolboys. Occasionally, I have to give them a reminder bark that I am on duty.

After break, I do like to pop into the Headmaster’s office to see how He is doing. On this particular Friday, I did notice that Dylan was once again on the bench outside the office. I wonder what he has done this time – even I am not in the dog box as often as he is.

Anyway, I have a far more important assignation in mind. Morning milk. ‘Sandy, you are late this morning,’ admonishes Glenda, His secretary, as she warms up the milk in the microwave. I don’t get attention like this at home – and she seems to know exactly the right temperature for the milk.

Feed Me

It has been a tiring morning and I wander into His office. I usually receive a facetious greeting like ‘On the scrounge again, Fat Dog?’ Doesn’t He know that I have a proper name? Fortunately I do understand that He has a peculiar sense of humour – it must be a Headmaster thing. I once heard Him tell a Grade 8 class that He was leaving me in the classroom while He had to pop back to His office – but that they must behave as there was a camera in my collar which was recording everything.

He can talk such nonsense with a straight face. They weren’t to know that it was only a tape recorder in my collar – but in any event, they were dead quiet while He was out.

Reflecting on my status as Head Dog, hang on? Was that the lunch bell?

Dylan was in the office when I wandered in. He was being admonished in the same tone of voice as He sometimes uses with me back home. I didn’t need to hear any more of that – I have my fair share of that at home myself – and so I wandered into the foyer. The big decision facing me now was whether or not to take a chance and climb up onto one of the sofas which are normally reserved for visitors.

I decided against it. I still have memories of the last time I tried that one. I thought on that occasion that my presence on the couch was acceptable – especially as the secretaries did not seem to mind. Mary even said I looked cute with my head on the arm of the sofa. Never mind about how I looked, it was extremely comfortable.

Well, you won’t believe the ructions when He came out of his office and saw me on the sofa. I thought that corporal punishment went out years ago in schools! The indignity of it – what with me being Head Dog and all. I wish I knew a good lawyer. That would teach Him. I would love to see Him answer a charge of ‘grievous bodily harm’ in court.

It's been a hard day's night
and I've been working like a dog

Rather than go through all that again, I went back to the corridor and lay down. I sometimes find it more comfortable lying on my back which invariably leads to ribald comments from the passing traffic. Just like Lady Grantham, the Dowager Countess, it would be beneath the dignity of a Head Dog to respond to such ignorant jibes. On this occasion, I was rather tired as I had been attending the nightly Staff rehearsals of ‘Good Vibrations’ – a Song and Dance show for parents which is being produced shortly. My personal favourite, of all the songs which they are singing, is that one from the Beatles repertoire : ‘It’s been a Hard Day’s Night and I have been working like a dog…’



Quite so. Now they know. I hope the audience realise that they are singing about me.

It was difficult to sleep in the corridor on that Friday morning. There was clearly something happening because folk were rushing back and forth and guests were arriving. I eventually picked up that it was the Prefect Inauguration. The Rousseau’s were so keen not to miss it that they arrived at 11.15 for a 13.30 start.

I met some chap called Sakhi Gqeba, who was scheduled to make a speech at the Ceremony. As he sat in His office, many teachers came through to greet him. It turned out he was Head Prefect of the school in 2000 – but that was well before my time. He was also greeted very fondly by Her, when she arrived just before the ceremony. So he must have been a very good Head Prefect.

Then disaster struck. I was summoned into the office and firmly told to stay put and the doors were shut. I could not believe it. He knew how much I love ceremonies and meeting people. Well, I soon got my own back. I jumped up onto His leather couch and curled up on the cushions.

I love the stage,
one has such a good view of People from here

Much later the door opened and someone came in to collect the coffee cups. I took the gap more quickly than Jarryd Sage, that impressive centre whom I used to watch from the bank when he was playing first team rugby this year. I was out of the door in a flash and down the steps to the hall to join in the action.

The hall was packed so I took the direct route down the centre isle – and, after a short exploratory trip round the front of the hall, I saw Him on stage. I heard later that it was a good thing that I did not see his face. I can’t understand why.

Mark Timlin, as outgoing Head Prefect, was calling every prefect up in turn and they were being presented with their blazers. I felt that they needed my involvement – as Head Dog my place was on stage with my team. As I was going up the steps to the stage, I glanced at the audience. They clearly approved of my presence because all I saw was smiles. Encouraged by this, I sat down at the feet of Him. I was not even given the option of turning over and lying on my back, because He then jumped up and – horror of horror – dragged me by the collar in a most undignified way to the back of the stage. At the height of this indignity, I was greatly mollified to hear a collective sympathetic ‘ahh…’ come from the audience. However, it did little to alleviate my embarrassment. As Head Dog, after such treatment, how would I be able to face those hoi polloi braks of the 365 Club?

I bet the Queen would never treat her corgis like that. And I have corgi blood in me too. Come to think of it, the Vet once told Her that I had twenty breeds in me. That wasn’t very nice.

Good grief, these people are forever
photo bombing me ... 

I was summarily and unceremoniously thrown out of the door at the back of the stage. No matter, I scurried round the side and came back into the hall. There was much laughter from the audience. They must have seen His face.

One of the teachers made me sit with him in the front row of the audience. I was thus able to enjoy the proceedings from there. Quite frankly, all I wanted from the very beginning was an opportunity to be part of it all. I thoroughly enjoyed the speech from the incoming Head Prefect, Raythaan Addinall. ‘Let us break down hierarchies,’ he said. ‘We are one brotherhood!’

I wonder if this applies to Head Dogs being dragged ignominiously off the stage.

I enjoyed the tea afterwards in the Fish Bowl. Quite a number of titbits from sympathisers came my way. I even managed to wangle my way into a few photos with the prefects and some of the staff. We leaders have to stick together.

No-one ever promised that the life of a Head Dog would be easy.