Adolphus Cooke, also known as ‘Cooke of Cooksborough’ or ‘Adolf’ to his neighbours (not really!) lived just up the road from where I come from. He died in 1876, having become world famous for his eccentricity. Had he been born poor and landless, he would most likely have been locked up in Mullingar Lunatic Asylum; but because he was such an influential landlord, with his subjects complying with his every whim, Cooke was an ‘eccentric.’
‘The Master’ had very definite beliefs when it came to the subject of reincarnation. His mortal hereafter informed him first of all, that his father was coming back as a bee. And so he designed his father’s mausoleum in the shape of a beehive. And yes, for those of you who may remember the ‘Beehive’ dance venue, it was located close to the spot.
Adolphus later changed his mind, after his daddy spoke to him in a dream and in the form of a turkey-cock. His father was by now a turkey-cock on the estate. Now, all turkey-cocks look the same – except perhaps, to a hen turkey; so to make sure that his father would never be snubbed around the yard, all the servants had to doff their hat to every turkey-cock they passed on the estate!
Our colourful Cooke character was in no doubt as to what form his own reincarnation would take; he was destined to return home as a fox! He had his servants dig extra-large fox-holes all over the estate, so that when he was chased by dogs, he had a maze of easy escape routes.
So what if my fellow-Westmeath man is right and we all do come back next time, reincarnated as an animal; what would you like to be? There is a huge choice out there and the final decision requires a lot of thought. Having pondered the dilemma at great length, my mind is made up; I wish to come back as a dog! After all, if the dog be ‘man’s best friend’, I shan’t be drifting too far from human instincts.
I am very particular as to what breed of dog I shall be turned into. Definitely not one of those little ‘yap, yap’, variety with the rat’s head. No, I want to be at least a medium sized mádra; good-looking and smart – which in fairness to myself requires no change in either of those two departments.
Is there any life better than a dog’s life, I ask you? Food delivered straight to my dish, followed by stretching out for a glorious siesta in the afternoon. ‘Oh what a beautiful dog’, I hear them all say. All the nice Gorls will be lining up to pat me on the head and stroke my back – before I roll onto my back and let them tickle my tummy, from where I can look up at them swooning all over me.
There will be games to be played with both children and adults. Tracking and scent games will appeal to me and ‘fetch the ball, Bernard’ (after St Bernard) will be the favourite pursuit.
Barking at strangers will give my humans a sense of security and with words such as ‘he’s a great watchdog’ they will justify my existence as one of the family. Most mongrel dogs don’t like the postman; they think that because he comes to the door every day and never gets admitted, it is their job to shift him off the property. I know better, and Barry will be my friend too.
Having given the matter some further though, I have decided that I wish to come back as a working collie. This way I shall be even more indispensable to my human, and I’ll have ‘tennis-tail’ from wagging to praise.
I never could stay idle for long as a human; never one for lying up all day doing nothing; and so being a sheep or cattle dog will be right up my alley. Being a ‘good cattle dog’, on top of a ‘great watchdog’ really appeals to me. Can you imagine the satisfaction of getting the better of a bully cow out in the field? The mad bitc…, I mean cow, won’t come into the yard for the farmer. Head down near the ground, she keeps going round in circles trying to charge me. But sooner or later, she has to turn and I’m ‘in like Flynn’ to nip hard on her heel … and then the other heel! Next time she knows better and who is boss around here! No wonder my farmer human loves me.
If its job satisfaction you want, come back as a working dog. Is there any better life out there? And I promise not to chase any fox … just in case it is my neighbour!
Don’t Forget
Animals are much more agreeable friends; they ask no questions, they make no criticisms.
