3. My sister Tequila

I have a sister.

Her name is Tequila. She is a red Shar-Pei and she has just turned two, which she seems to think is a perfectly acceptable age to interfere with everything I am doing.

She loves me very much.

I know this because she is constantly licking my face.

Usually while I am asleep.

There I am, finally comfortable, eyes closed, having achieved the exact position I intend to remain in for the next three hours, and I feel a tongue on my ear.

Then my forehead.

Then my entire face.

Apparently I need grooming.

I don’t.

I make this clear.

She continues.

Tequila also likes my toys. She has her own toys, obviously, but those lack the special quality of being mine.

If I have a ball, she wants the ball. If I have something squeaky, she wants that. If I haven’t touched a toy for six months and she picks it up, I suddenly remember that it is extremely important to me.

Fortunately, Tequila cannot walk up the stairs.

I can.

My favourite toys live upstairs and II sleep very well knowing this.

Outside, however, we work together.

We are the Pei Patrol.

Every morning we inspect the yard. The gate needs checking. The horses need checking. The chickens always need checking.

Especially the chickens! They move around with the confidence of animals who have never once been asked what they are doing.

Tequila and I make a round together. If something moves, we investigate. If nothing moves, we investigate anyway.

Then there is training.

Tequila is very good at training.

Someone says sit. She sits.

Someone says stay. She stays.

Someone calls her. She comes.

Straight away.

Every time. It’s a little much.

She also looks at the human the entire time, waiting for the next instruction. Personally, I think a dog should retain some independence.

After training we run together, which is much better. Tequila is fast. I am faster. She may have a different version of this.

We chase each other around the yard until one of us has had enough, then lie down together. Usually very close. Sometimes with our heads touching.

Then Tequila notices my ear.

And we’re back to the grooming.

I really must speak to her about that.

Again.

— Elwood