There’s a common belief that dogs do nothing but eat, sleep, and, well, you know… But that’s not the whole truth. And I’ll do my best to prove it.
Dogs in Serious Jobs
When humanity is in danger, we dogs always step in, taking on the heaviest and often most dangerous jobs.
Think back: dogs carrying mines under tanks, dragging wounded soldiers off battlefields, sniffing out explosives during de-mining. No wonder a dog, second only to the horse, stands proudly on that monument to animals who died in wars. You’ll find it in the centre of London. Wouldn’t be a bad idea to have such monuments in other cities and countries as well.
(Photo from Tripadvisor)
And don’t forget — before man flew into space, dogs went first. In 1960, Belka and Strelka, just two ordinary mongrels, experienced what it meant to be launched into the sky atop a giant barrel of gunpowder. They were the first higher living creatures to travel to space and return alive. Everything humans later had to face, dogs tested first. In 2010 Russia even issued a commemorative stamp.
The Landseer Legacy
And yes, do you know where the name of my breed, Landseer, comes from? Let me remind you. Have you seen the bronze lions at the foot of Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square? Who created them? Quite right — Sir Edwin Landseer, a 19th-century English artist. He loved painting dogs, especially those with black-and-white coats. One of his most famous paintings is titled “The Saved.” In his honour, we were given the name Landseer.
And who saved the little girl in that painting? A black-and-white dog. How many lives have been saved by dogs!
My Daily Jobs
These days, life on our island is different. Humans fly to space as if popping over for a visit. And no one here really needs rescuing. But that doesn’t mean dogs have nothing to do. On the contrary, I work all day long.
My passion for work shows itself whenever I fancy something tasty. No, I’m not starving, though my owners insist I always look hungry, especially in certain poses.
They feed me properly: a kilo of porridge with turkey and vegetables twice a day, morning and evening. That’s enough to keep up my strength and energy. But for pleasure? Well, that’s where work comes in. As the saying goes, “no pain, no gain”. And if you want to gain something tasty, you have to work with both head and paws.
Tricks of the Trade
Let me explain. In my younger days, when I was being trained on what to do and how, treats came thick and fast. Later, I got used to doing everything automatically, without waiting for commands — and the flow of treats slowed right down. So, I had to apply a bit of canine cunning.
For example, my owner taught me to come running when he called “Come!” with treats. And yes, I learned it. But once the lesson was mastered, the training stopped — and so did the treats. What to do? Simple. Give him the chance to call me “Come!” again.
So, when we’re walking along the beach and I spot other dogs in the distance, I dash straight towards them. Doesn’t matter what breed they are, big or small, whether I want to play or not. All my attention is actually on my owner. The moment he shouts “Come!”, I drop everything and sprint back to him—result: a treat in my mouth much more often.
And what if there aren’t any dogs around? No problem. My owner also taught me not to wander too far, with the command “Heel”. And I do stay close. But then comes a thought — isn’t it about time for a snack? So, I slow my pace, drift a little further away, always keeping an eye on him. As soon as he starts glancing back, looking for me — that’s my moment. The second he calls me, or claps his hand on his thigh, or, even better, bends down with his hands on his knees — off I go, full tilt straight at him. And with my weight, believe me, that’s quite something! But I’ve earned my treat — and if he was bent down waiting, I’ll get a lovely scratch behind my ears and under my belly too.
Modelling and Other Work
My favourite work, though, is being a photo model. Not hard work at all — as long as I don’t take my eyes off my owner. We’re walking along the sea, I notice his gaze linger on a rock or driftwood, and his right hand goes to his pocket (treats are in the left, phone in the right). That’s the moment. I dash to the object, strike a pose — making sure the light and stance are just right — and there we are. Job done. A few seconds later, I’m chewing on a treat while my owner, satisfied, carries on in search of the following subject.
And then there are our daily walks. That’s work too. After all, do you think my owner, at 71, would be out walking four kilometres every morning if not for me? Of course not. I can see he’d rather stay in bed, or skip it if the weather’s miserable. But here I am, with my needs, and so I get him out of the house and down to the sea. That’s my responsibility.
There’s another kind of work, not one I enjoy, but it has to be done — accompanying my owners to the local pubs. Try lying quietly under a table for an hour and a half while madly tempting smells waft all around you, and you can’t even sit up, let alone sneak something tasty off the table. You daren’t stir — get up and you’ll send the whole table tumbling. Baloo tried it a couple of times, and I gave it a go myself once — nothing good came of it. So yes, it’s hard. But when we finally leave the pub, I consistently earn something nice.
The Real Work
Of course, all of the above about me is tongue-in-cheek. My true work is to love my owners, bringing them joy and comfort every moment. I rest my head on their knees or shoulders, and they stroke my head and scratch my ears. I can tell they’re happy. And they do this knowing I’ll never give them a treat in return. Which means they must truly enjoy it. And when people are happy, they live longer.
That’s my true work. And besides bringing joy, I also get to provide my owners with a real benefit too — but that’s another story.
