Rosie Really Lives in Dogland

Rosie was a thin, olive skinned child of 10 years of age. She had huge brown eyes, long hair and rather a prominent nose.

Rosie did not go to school because her father was certain a Catholic Nuns school was evil and so insisted she be home schooled. The task of teaching fell to her mother, a Cambridge grad, who was much too gentle and unassertive to manage the wilful Rosie.

Lessons progressed at a snails pace, in a very unstructured way. Arithmetic and writing were Rosie’s most disliked subjects. English literature was her favorite subject. She loved to hear about the Dickensian characters, especially those in Great Expectations and the Shakespearean characters, especially those in Hamlet.

House and garden chores took precedence over lessons, and often Rosie would be left to wander happily around the large garden and play. Her dogs and cats were often included in these games.

Because she did not attend school, Rosie had no real friends of her own age. This gave her plenty of time to indulge her imagination, and she did. When not digging in the garden, or playing tag with the pets, she was Queen Rosie of Dogland. She invented a place called Dogland, and made herself Queen.

One day when she was in the garden, playing with the cats, Rosie found out about her father’s plans. Her parents were in the dining room, and the window was open. They were having another one of their endless arguments. Rosie usually simply ignored them, or began to tell herself a long involved adventure with herself as the hero/heroine, in her magical make-believe country “Dogland”. Today was different because she wanted to go and play with local village children; her father had said no, and her mother was lobbying on her behalf.

“That child is a spoiled brat” announced Rosie’s father. He always made this statement when Rosie wanted something he disagreed with. Rosie’s mother said “She’s only as spoiled as you have made her. Remember, spare the rod, spoil the child…you’re the one who never wants to discipline her”.

Rosie leaned up against the sun-warmed wall near the dining room window and drew circles in the dust. Her father was always going on about how rotten his childhood had been, and how he had vowed that no child of his would be treated in the same way. He also constantly told her that she was a very lucky little girl: Other children had to go to school; other children had mean governesses; other children got spanked when they were disobedient.

Rosie wondered what it would be like to be an “other” child, like the ones her father was always telling her about. For one thing, she would go to school and meet other children her own age, on a daily basis. That wouldn’t be bad, surely? The voices were raised again: “I don’t want her hanging around with those little hooligans, she’s got royal blood, she shouldn’t associate with unintelligent mongrels.” Rosie pricked up her ears. She was unaware of having any real life “royal” blood, and so what if she did, why would that mean that she couldn’t play with certain people? Of course, in her dream country, in Dogland, she was a queen and had children of her own. But that was quite different.

In Dogland, Queen Rosie was the Dragon Slayer; she was the Earth Mother; she was the Wise and All Knowing Ruler.

Her court was made up of wise animal beings who were able to communicate with her, and who could do extraordinary things.

In Dogland, Queen Rosie lived in a magical Castle, and rode a magnificent white Unicorn for special occasions. Everyone was happy in Dogland, and best of all, there were no adults living there.

Her father was ranting on in the dining room. “She has to start learning to behave properly, and not like some little guttersnipe. You shouldn’t let her be such a tomboy. Child’s growing up, it’ll soon be time to get her married off.” a low unintelligible protest from Rosie’s mother.

For a moment Rosie went cold. Marriage? Rosie drew in the dirt furiously. Married off!! What was he talking about. She was only 10, and still played with her dolls. Hearing her father’s say it like that, baldly, was disturbing. Rosie did not get permission to go and play with her friends that day.

Although she continued to play and do the usual things she did, Rosie was profoundly worried about her father’s reference to marriage. One day soon after the dining room incident, Rosie asked her mother about child marriages. She told her that some local child had been talking about it. Rosie’s mother gave her a long, penetrating look.

Rosie tried not to squirm or look guilty. Finally, her mother explained that only in certain countries did girls marry when under 15, and this wasn’t one of them. Anyway, they had to be able to have children, her mother said, and that didn’t happen until later, after “certain changes” happened to a girls’ body. What about the royal marriages in Europe, where some child princess would be betrothed to a prince barely out of diapers? That was different, said her mother. Those were “arranged” marriages, to ensure the continuance of future heirs, and for political reasons.

Rosie wanted to ask more about the “ordinary” child marriages, where young girls had babies, but was afraid that her mother would figure out that she had been eavesdropping, so she held her peace. Rosie knew all about how kittens and puppies came to be, but she was curious and ignorant about babies. She wondered how a very young girl, say 12 or 13, could produce a baby, also she was repelled at the idea. She didn’t think about it for too long though, because it made her feel all squirmy and uncomfortable. So she soon returned to an interrupted adventure in Dogland, where life was simple and she made all the rules.

Rosie wondered about the “royal blood” comment for a long time. Her mother had said that royal marriages were arranged by the parents…and her father had said… She wanted to find out more, but all her careful eavesdropping bore no fruit. Her parents never discussed the subject again within her listening range. She knew that if she asked her mother any more questions about it, then she would definitely get told off for listening in. Or at very least, would be grilled about her reasons for wanting to ask such “grown-up” questions.

When Rosie turned eleven, she started to notice some funny things going on with her body. She suddenly noticed some bumps on her chest, where it had been flat before. She also noticed that she would get a hot face and strange feelings in her stomach when the pimply faced grocery boy showed up. She was hanging over the garden wall exchanging insults with another village boy, when she suddenly became aware of his body odour. A strong musky smell emanated from his sweaty body and she found that it was somehow exciting.

Her mother started to mutter about the need to wear under-vests. Rosie hated vests and always took them off once she was out of sight of her mother. She continued to spend time hanging over the garden wall trading insults with her friends. One day after they had arm-wrestled, Rosie held hands with the boy with the musky odour and he told her that he admired her breasts, which he could see through the thin cotton. Rosie got all confused and hot.

Rosie’s mother was prowling around the garden and came upon the pair; she hauled Rosie indoors unceremoniously and scolded her for being immodest because she had no vest under a thin cotton top. She told Rosie to go and wash and change into “something clean and tidy”, and “don’t let me catch you near that wall again.” That night, when she was in bed, Rosie unbuttoned her flannel nightdress and peered at her chest. Sure enough, there they were. Little round, almost non-existent, but undeniably, breasts.

She became panicky at once. This meant, from what her mother had told her, that soon she would get something called the “monthly pest” and she would have to wear a brassiere, and when the “monthly pest” came, it meant that she would be a “woman”. She buried her head under the blankets and screwed her eyes up tight. The conversation in the dining room of a year ago came back to her.

Did this mean that she was no longer a little girl? Her father must never know of the changes that were happening, or he would try to get her married off, she reasoned. Rosie resolved that she would always wear a vest, no matter what she wore on top. She also decided that she would wrap her mutinous chest in strips of cloth, so that it would be reduced in size. She knew that Chinese women bound their feet in order to keep them small; so why not breasts? Rosie’s plan was simple: if she could keep the changes from showing, and if she practiced being a boy, then her father would not try to marry her off.

Rosie’s mother was relieved when she noticed that Rosie was carefully wearing vests. She didn’t scold Rosie too much about being a tomboy. Rosie’s father apparently hadn’t noticed anything, and if he had, he never said anything. Rosie allowed herself to relax. All was well in Dogland, for the time being anyway.

Author’s note: If you think this story is fanciful, I can assure you it is not. It is based on a true story.