No, I don’t mean the London Underground – I mean the kind of tube that you’re left with when you’ve just wrapped up tomorrow’s sandwiches and finished off the last of the silver foil.
Before I had a dog the cardboard tube would go straight into the recycling, along with any empty plastic bottles, egg boxes and cereal boxes that had come to the end of their useful life that day. Or – had they come to the end of their useful life? Well, not anymore – when you’ve got a dog, they have a lot left to give.
Dogs instinctively know how to be creative (and destructive too, to be fair, but let’s just think about the creative bit, for now). When I pull off the last piece of silver foil and leave the brown tube beneath exposed, the dog’s ears immediately prick up. He knows that sound and he leaps up and comes rushing over. He puts his head on one side as cutely as he can. ‘Have you finished with that?’ he says, raising his furry eyebrows hopefully. ‘May I…?’
When I give it to him, he trots happily away to his bed where he settles down, holding it more dexterously than you might expect between his front paws while he examines his prize.
It’s not just a tube, to him. It’s all kinds of things – a chew toy… a container for storing dog treats in… something to roll along the floor… something to fetch… and, sometimes, something to whack me on the ankle with, when he needs to tell me that it’s time for dinner.
I’m trying to follow his example by thinking more creatively about everyday items, in an effort to generate more story ideas. So, that teapot on the kitchen shelf – could it be the home of a fairy or a genie… or be filled with treasure… or imbued with a witch’s curse… or the hiding place of a clutch of stolen jewels… or even a time machine? Hmm. It could be any of those things in a story. But, right now, it’d be great if it really was a time machine and it could take me back a few hours to the point where I was still doing the shopping – I really should have remembered to buy some more silver foil…
Catherine Rosevear 