An arrival

Fans, I bring bad tidings. A dark cloud has descended over Henry pups (yes, third person creates a necessary distance between me and my new unfortunate reality.) There has been a new arrival, one that everyone else seems very excited about. But not Henry pups. I knew something was up when she wouldn't let me sniff him. Well, I got a foot, but that is hardly enough to go on. Then, she attached him to a part of her body I don't recall seeing much before (now I see it all the bloody time). This meant that she couldn't play with me or fuss me at all. I tried to work out what this was about for myself - I tried to lick the thing that he is permanently attached to, but I was shouted at. This was quite upsetting. Then, he cried. Fans, you have never heard anything like it. It sounds a bit like one of my squeaky toys but it lasts for longer and is more high-pitched. Mummy, what is this banshee that you have brought into our midst, and moreover, why do you appear to love it, even when it makes noise, smells of poo and stops you having fun?
These were my immediate reactions. And three months on (yes, it has taken me three months to gather my thoughts on this matter well enough to blog) I cannot say they have changed much. To be fair, it isn't really him (they call him "pie") that's the problem. It is Mummy. He is just a thing that distracts her from me. The issue is: how can she be distracted? I was her Alpha and Omega; her moon and stars. Now, I am something to feed and walk. She can say what she likes, I know the truth. And it hurts.
I tried to inform Mummy of how much by pooing and weeing all over the room in which he sleeps, the room in which they play with him and not with me, the locus of my misery: the nursery. This of course backfired and I realised as soon as I had done it that it would. But it felt good at the time. As does chewing his toys and bath sponges and lying on his soft lamby when I am wet and dirty.
One plus: I've been given a LOT more treats lately. This seems to be making it harder for me to do things like run, but God do I love it. They keep saying they feel guilty, then giving me treaties. Well all I can say is I hope they continue to feel guilty as it means more tastiness for me.
Life has become more bearable in the last couple of weeks when compared with the chaos of the first three weeks after his appearance. I mean, we do still get to go for walks, he isn't on Mummy all the time any more and he does seem to have started giving me a bit of attention, which of course is all I need to get by. And he is quite cute to look at, I suppose.
I do wonder if I will ever get over this spurn. My world has come crashing down. Think I'm exaggerating? You'd be wrong. But they don't call me Henry "tenacious" Pups for nothing. I'm the Chumba Wumba of dogs - I've been knocked down, but I will get up again, and when I do, I will climb all over him and lick his sweet little face and one day, I hope Mummy won't mind.