Life According to Tony-Twonames Episode 9
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.
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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.
Who knew I’d like the beach? All that sand, all that water. I mean, we all know how much I friggin hate water. Show me a hose and I freeze, try and take me outside for a leak in the rain and it’s no way Jose. But for some reason, I’m down with the beach. To be fair I don’t go in the water, unless the humans throw me in the cruel buggers.
To run along the open expanse, there is something so free! It seems old mate and the lady have a shack at a beach. I think it’s like their second home. At first I was like what? We’ve got two homes? That seems pretty bloody excessive but ok, if that’s how we roll. The beach shack is nothing flash, I mean, I wouldn’t stop to pee on the letter box if I was walking past it, but its almost on the beach, so hey, I’ll take a shack at that location over no shack any day.
We head up on weekends. It’s nice to get out of the city and abuse some different dogs for a change. I get bored of hassling the local neighbourhood pack. And at the beach, they let me run off lead. I think all the sea air must go to their heads because I wouldn’t let me off lead anywhere! Although, old mate seems to be faster than me on the soft sand. If I try to make a break for it, I need to get my five inch legs to the hard sand, otherwise he is all over me like white on rice.
Apart from barking at other dogs, the other real treat about the beach shack is no stairs! I can take a leak just out the back door. There’s a little yard attached to the house so old mate or the lady just open the door, and out I pop, to lift my leg. I’ve had to train them that I don’t like to keep my own backyard tidy. I mean that’s just a good rule for life, right? In this instance, I make them walk me out of the yard and down the road.
Weekends finish and we’re all refreshed to face a new week in the rat race.
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.
