Life According To Tony-Twonames Episode 4

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 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 4 – They’re the animals.

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.

There’s only one word for it – barbaric. I left Liverpool a hot-blooded male and within ONE month of being in Double Bay they did it. They booked me in.

I’d been to the vet before, to have my chip put in. I don’t agree with having a chip but I understand the principle. If they get lost, they need to figure out how to get back to us. They just shouldn’t get lost in the first place is my thought.

But this? This is an invasion of privacy and an utter interference with my sense of identity and being that is unforgivable.

So, old mate drops me off at the vet and I should have known then something was up because if it’s a standard, thermometer up the rear or check of the ears, humans hang around. I still didn’t twig when the nurse told me to count backwards from ten and that I might have a faint taste of garlic in my mouth. Stupid me, think I’m about to get some left over spag bol, but oh no. Next thing I know, I’m waking up and I’m kind of sore down there. I tried to check it out but as soon as I moved my head, I knocked the wall with something that wasn’t my head. It was a plastic scraping sound. That’s when it hit me, I was wearing the cone of shame! No!!!!!!!

On a side note, you know the cone of shame is where the costume designers for Hand Maids Tail got their inspiration from right? The fertile ones with the red capes and the suspicious looking buckets on their heads. Surely I’m not the only who sees the irony in that.

Why they had to take my boys I will never know. I’m a good-looking dog. My offspring are cute. And given my vertical challenge, I can’t get over that many ladies anyway! When old mate came to pick me up, I gave him my best death stare. Which unfortunately translated to puppy dog eyes and him giving me a scratch on the chin. Damn my canine facial feature limitations. On the tender walk back to the car I got him good. I gave him a few sharp scrapes up the back of his ankles. He thought I was just groggy and having issues with spatial awareness. HA!

The cone of shame was inflicted on me for a while and let’s just say, my spatial awareness never got any better. I may have even drawn blood on one good scrape. I felt a bit guilty at that, then quickly remembered why I was wearing the upside-down bucket in the first place. When that baby came off, I licked and licked in hope that it might bring them back. It didn’t.

Within the space of the month my old name went and so did my boys. But 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.

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