Three Dog Knight

July 13, 2017

I got knighted!  Eat your heart out, Sean Connery!

Just kidding, Sir Connery.  Jo and I adore you, and I, too, have white hair that is thinning with age. Seems we have a lot more in common now. 😉

As a pup, I always felt I was destined for more than just sleeping and licking my own butt.

I dreamt of seeking out holy relics:  Dog bowls filled with water that offered eternal life…even the golden collar of Anubis himself!

I envisioned protecting a village of timid mice by fashioning a spring-loaded dummy out of catnip and yarn, and as soon as the marauding clan of cats swarmed upon it, releasing the dummy…balls of fur flung high into the sky in slow motion while Strauss’ Blue Danube Waltz plays.

Now that I’m older and wiser, I realize that waiting for an army of felines which may never come, with a bunch of catnip-yarn dummies sitting around the apartment is just creepy.  I’d rather give all my love and attention to Jo (she made me say that).

And after many years of love and devotion to one sappy human, honorary knighthood and title of Dame Penelope seem fitting and proper.  I deserve more.  But if that’s all Jo can muster, I’ll take it.

* Waiting patiently for my knighting

The momentous occasion took place during the second week of our month-long stay in the Scottish Highlands, and, frankly, it was about damn time!  It was the highlight of my trip.  Jo was going to save the whole knighting ceremony for England, but Fate intervened one especially sunny Scottish day.

Jo asked Oates (nickname for crazy German, Torsten, we stayed with) if he knew anyone who could do a fun knighting ceremony for me.  He advised she put a message out on his Facebook page. Within minutes of posting, offers and suggestions were rolling in, and people wanted us to post pictures in case we actually followed through with it.

And follow through with it we did, with panache!

Jo already had a costume for me, and the amazingly creative Sarah Varney provided everything else for a crazy reasonable fee and an afternoon of chit-chat over steaming cups of tea.

Sarah and her daughter welcomed us into their stunning home and gardens with open arms, where I graduated from puphood to knighthood, and the joke was made that I upgraded from Penny to Pound. 😀  Sarah mentioned how the song “Jolene” had been floating around in her head days before.  Soon after, she saw Jo’s post on Facebook.  The stars had aligned!

(Sarah can be found at @BespokeWeddingCeremony on Facebook; Torsten’s Scottish tours and teepee accommodations can be found at Experience Scotland Differently or @ExperienceScotlandDifferently on Facebook)

* Behold!  The first dog ever knighted in Scotland??

* Jo hid treats in her bra and rewarded me with one every so often so I would stay on the makeshift Stone of Destiny and pay attention to her

* Check out the sporty lil sword in my belt!

* It’s official!  Love the town name of Fogwatt too!  Sounds like a not-so-bright Harry Potter villain

* Another beautiful area of Sarah’s gardens

* These were insanely delicious.  Similar to moon pies or wagon wheels…but better!

* Sample of felt creatures Sarah makes for fun – the squirrel was my favorite, naturally.

What an amazing day!  We talked and drank tea for hours.  Sarah’s daughter gave us a tour of the house and gardens, along with many of her mom’s felt and beaded clothing projects. Believe me when I say there is nothing else quite like them out there!  We couldn’t thank the ladies enough for their hospitality, and we will never forget that day.

FUN FACTS:

1.  The King of Norway had a penguin knighted.  A freakin’ penguin!  I totally deserved to be knighted then.  Although, penguins are pretty awesome.
2.  Some say Caligula made his horse a consul and supposedly kept him in a stable of marble where he ate oats with gold flake.
3. Pep, the cat killer:  In the 1920s, a dog was sentenced to life in prison after purportedly eating the cat of the governor’s wife.  Here’s the mugshot to prove it!

* photo via historybuff.com

It was all a joke, however, as the governor’s wife cleared Pep’s name, saying he was actually given to the jail to hang out with the inmates and to remind them that life is better with a dog, so, ya’ know, don’t commit any more crimes.

4.  Canonization of a dog (caninezation in this case):  13th century legend has it that a Greyhound named Guinefort lived in France with a well-to-do couple and their baby.  The parents leave the baby at home with the dog (no doubt going out to partake in some drunken merriment and to figure out how the hell they’re going to pay for their kid’s college tuition after blowing their savings on mead-fueled benders), and upon returning, they find the baby’s cradle turned upside down and blood everywhere, including on the dog’s muzzle.

Without thinking (as is typical for humans), the hubby brandishes his sword and turns poor Guinefort into a dog-kebab.  Only when they get their heads out of their asses do they realize their baby is chilling under the cradle, alive and well, and there are bits of snake strewn about the room. Guinefort had killed that poisonous snake to save the baby’s life.

* Jo just posited a theory that the baby was tired of competing for attention, so he/she killed the snake himself and framed Guinefort.  Heinous!  Yet another reason not to trust children.

* Just look at the smug look on that kid’s face (photo via ultimatehistoryproject.com)

The parents, ashamed, place Guinefort’s remains in a well and vow never to be over-reactive dicks again.

Soon after, the locals start bringing their ailing children to this well to ask St. Guinefort to protect them. Then some church fella, with his head shoved as equally far up his keester, goes all Nancy Drew on this story and moseys on into town to see what all the hullabaloo is about and whether or not the deceased really deserves to be canonized.

Upon finding out the “saint” is really a dog, he goes apeshit, denouncing Guinefort as a heretic, digs up the remains, and burns the shrine down along with the remains.  Totally reasonable reaction to have.

And he doesn’t think to mention to the locals that maaaybe they shouldn’t be drinking water from a well where poor Guinefort had decomposed??  In any event, the townsfolk tell the church bloke to beat feet, and they promptly rebuild their shrine to Guinefort.

The next year, the parents and church fella receive a letter in the mail that says,

“I know what you did last summer.”

Turns out the dog had survived the skewering, the oh-well landing, and the Joan of Arc finale, and now he was back to exact his revenge on these bipedal buffoons!

Okay, so that last part didn’t really happen.  Maybe none of it happened.  It is a legend after all, but hey – moral of the story is:  Don’t have kids.  Adopt a dog.  Or at the very least, leave no cradle unturned before running your loyal dog through.

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