Life According to Tony-Twonames Episode 2
We’re storytellers at 2SER. It’s in our DNA. Recently, we’ve taken to the tale of Tony-Twonames, a scrappy terrier from the western suburbs of Sydney who found himself hurtled into a whole new life in Double Bay. Who doesn’t love a good reinvention story?
Each week, we’ll follow the adventures of Tony as he navigates his new world, from the prim and proper poodles of Double Bay to the curious conundrum that is his new family.
Episode 2 – Early Days
Just because I live in an apartment in Double Bay, doesn’t mean I forget where I come from. I’ll always be a Westie, western suburbs that is. I’m a cairn terrier cross.
Our first trip to the Double Bay dog park was enlightening, for the woman. You see, when we walked around Liverpool, we didn’t see any other dogs. She didn’t get to see Five Kilos of Fury in action. That’s what the guys called me, back home. Here in the east they just think I’m trouble.
Small dog syndrome. That’s what they say to me. And I take offense to that. I AM a small dog. There’s no syndrome about it. What that means is that I am an easy target for any mother trucker bigger than me. Which equates to about 97.8% of the population. And yes, I have been attacked before and no, I don’t want to go into it. Just like I shy away from hoses and water. Something bad happened to me, real bad. But it’s in the past and I have moved on.
As a result though I live by one rule. The only defence is a good offence. If I see or smell another dog coming my way, it’s game on mofo. I let them know, well and truly in advance that if they come any closer it’s at their own risk. I might start yelling something like:
“I see you! I know you’re there! Don’t come any closer or I won’t be held responsible if I tear you paw from paw. I may be small but I got moves your nightmares are made of!”
At this point, most of my fellow canines get the message and give me a wide berth. But there are those who come closer and they either want to get in the ring, or befriend me.
For those who want to get in the ring I’m like, “Ok, lets do this you big dumb bag of fleas, get over here and say your prayers.” For those that want to befriend me, I tell them to take their preaching elsewhere, I’ve seen too much to fall for their cavoodle ways.
Our first trip to the dog park was diabolical. I mean, I had fun – yelling and snarling and snapping. The woman freaked out, she ended up carrying me home, trying to hold my head into her chest. Like that was going to help. The adrenaline already coursing through me was intense, I was primed.
Little did I know the lengths they would go to try and “sort me out”. You see, you can’t change who you are, not at your core.
And just because I live in an apartment in Double Bay, doesn’t mean I forget where I come from. I’ll always be a Westie, western suburbs that is. I’m a cairn terrier cross.