Giant Tea-Leaf #2

Oh the joys of a dog that can reach your worktops without needing a chair to stand on...That big hairy wotnot managed to get the lid of a cast iron casserole dish and eat the remains of a sirloin joint with all the stealth and planning of a ninja death assassin.  Serves him right that he puked it up later.  Serves me right that he did it all over his new bed.  A guess we both learnt a thing or two ; 0)

Lost Dog Karma

Whilst on a gusty walk this morning I met the usual doggy suspects:  Flynn, Bracka, Seema and Brodie the labradoodles and the man they allow to walk with them and Belle, the flat coated retriever and her nice lady companion.  With Belle was a very tired and ill looking beagle.  Belle's owner had found her curled up in one of the fields, had put her on the lead and was taking her home.  We all had a good look at her (dogs and humans) and concluded that she had recently had puppies and wasn't in the best of health.  My heart went out to the little thing, her belly was sagging and her perinium was almost down to her knees.  She didn't have a collar on.  We all hoped that the local vet would find a chip and that she could be returned safely to a loving family.  As we parted company my mind raced on and I started wondering if she had been dumped in the fields on purpose.  Who would do such a thing? I thought of my own great lumoxes curled up in a field trying to keep warm on a cold morning, lost and hungry, their skinny flanks shivering and their teeth chattering.  The one time Gordon MacDonald got lost on a walk, a neighbour of mine had kindly taken him in after she found him pacing anxiously up and down my back gate (at this point I was running around the local streets frantic with worry).  Several people had seen him, but nobody had thought to catch him and keep him safe.  I nearly kissed her when she finally managed to flag me down and let me into her house where a terrified and very contrite Gordon MacDonald collapsed into my arms.   Since then I have taken several waifs and strays into my care and returned them safely to their owners.  I think of it as good Karma, and hope that, should such a thing ever happen to either of my dogs again, some kind person will keep them safe and return them to me.  Here's hoping that the little beagle finds a safe bed and a warm and loving family to live with.

Puppy Love

My friend has just got a new puppy - her first ever.  A very cute cocker spaniel called Riley.  Of course the three humans in our family were straight round for a cuddling session.  I tried to do sharing, I really did, but I was in there like a shot sniffing his little puppy feet and nibbling his ears.  Both my friends family and mine looked on in  horror as I gave in to my strange urges to let him chew my hair and eat the soles of my boots.  On the way home my son was having a right old moan about how I had 'hogged' the puppy and that he 'barely got a look in' and I have to admit that I was absolutely horribly selfish about getting right in there.  I must admit I felt a bit shame-faced about it all but secretly wasn't sorry.  So what if I have a puppy addiction?  Later that night we were going to bed I started a conversation with my husband that went 'Can....' and he immediately said 'No' before I had even finished.  We both knew what was coming and I guess it was best to just nip that thought in the bud.  So here's a picture of the gorgeous Gordon MacDonald when he was just 13 weeks old.  Imagine him chewing your hair and nibbling your ears!

The Dog-Mind

I often wonder what goes on in my dogs heads as they lay snoring on the sofa.  Not a lot, you might say, but I beg to differ.  Do dogs have a long term memory? Of course they do!  A friend came to visit today who Kizzy hasn't seen for two years and that little black dog went mad running round in circles and grinning like an idiot. She then proceeded to make strange little puppy noises at my friend, who was well impressed at the welcome she got.  It was obvious to both of us that Kizzy not only remembered my friend but was also glad to see her.  If dogs have a long term memory what do you think they dream about? 

Complicated Kizzy

Our little black dog is a conundrum.   Kizzy was a feisty wee puppy who was a whole lot of work. Now she is a fabulous dog - full of charm and character.   Unlike Gordon MacDonald, who is very straightforward and a bit dim and easy to love, Kizzy is complicated.  She looks into your face a lot, trying to read your expression and follows me around the house if I am busy, checking out what I am doing.  She likes to bring me things occasionally, normally a shoe or a sock and has recently taken to speaking to me in a serious of grunts and whinnies, the meaning of which I am not quite sure of.  I often think that the arrogance of humans means that they never really appreciate what kind of intelligence animals in general have.  How much dog do you speak?  I am struggling with 'woof' because its a bit like Japanese where one word can mean many things dependent on context and inflection.  But the Kizzy dog can understand a lot of what I am saying and seems to understand other things with acute precision  - for example, I didn't realise that I raise my eyebrows when I am telling her to go to her bed and now I only have to do that single thing, without even speaking, and she will go straight to her bed.  Nor that before I tell her off I draw my breath in sharply, so if I do this she runs off because she thinks I am about to tell her off for something.  This means that if I am hammering in a nail and hit my thumb and draw my breath in quickly my dog runs off!  How can she know so much about me and I so little about her?  Why for example, does she like to be wrapped in a cover when she is sleeping?  Why, if she is asleep in her bed and Gordon MacDonald wanders in, does she immediately come and sit right beside me?  And how does she know, when I am three streets away, that I am on my way home?

Giant Tea Leaf

Never, ever leave your shepherds pie on the hob and then go upstairs to put your son to bed because when you come back downstairs your shepherds pie will be gone, and lying in his bed will be a big hairy dog with a distended tummy and a bit of mashed potato on the end of his nose.

My Kingdom for a Bed...

Its not often I find myself in a bed shop.  I think I must have had the same bed for ten years.  The sales staff in bed shops are scary.  They home in on you and start asking you questions that seem very personal - how do you like to sleep, hard or soft mattress?  Storage or not?  Divan or frame?.  The trouble is, the bed isn't for me and my husband or my son.  No indeed, the bed is not for any human member of our tribe.  The new bed is for Gordon MacDonald who, now that he has reached his full height and weight (34inches at the shoulder and 42 kilos), is finding it increasingly difficult to get comfy, even on the sofa.  He has taken to standing outside our bedroom door and whinning for hours because he wants to get in and spread out on our kingsized number, which has a really comfy mattress topper and an extra thick duvet.  He doesn't bother with my son's bed because its a raised cabin bed and anyway it belongs to the cat when my son isn't sleeping on it.  I have been getting tired of finding him asleep on our bed after having scraped the duvet into a suitably large pile and topped it with a pillow or two.  When I try to get him off he pretends to be asleep and recently has taking to lifting his head after ten minutes of prolonged shouting only to yawn and fall back to sleep again.  Hence me and Bob found ourselves in the bed shop, trying to buy a bed that would fit in my study and be big enough for Gordon MacDonald (over six foot in either direction) so when the boy salesman with the three gelled down whips of hair and the super strong Lynx effect asked me if I wanted a hard or soft mattress I just looked at him and said 'Its for a dog, a big skinny dog who likes his home comforts' and the way that he looked at me spoke volumes about how other people see my dog induced madness.  Still, he sold me a bed any dog would be proud of and now I hardly get to see Gordon MacDonald unless I am working because he has taken to that bed like its his long lost friend.  In fact, he is asleep on it right now, his tongue lolling out on a pillow.  And I am going to have to  open a window because my study reeks of contented dog blarts.  I hadn't thought about that side of sharing my work space....

I find myself saying 'Sorry' quite a lot...

If you haven’t owned a dog for a while I think that you will find there has been a massive change in attitude during the last twenty years or so.  When I was a kid (that was LAST CENTURY) everybody had a dog.  If you didn’t have a dog people thought you were weird and felt sorry for you.  If you had more than one dog you were well cool.  We took photo’s of our dogs into school and stuck them on our desks.  We talked about all their little ways and when we were very small we attempted to dress them up in dolls clothes and push them around the streets in our dolls prams.  But now you and your dog cannot be sure of a good welcome anywhere.  Up at the school gates children unused to pets screech loudly and flap their arms about (this is like saying to a dog 'Hi - lets get really excited together.  I’ll flap my hands about and make lots of loud high pitched noises and you can jump about and lick me') causing what I have come to think of as a ‘playground altercation’.  Not all kids or parents are like this, but a significant proportion of them are.  These same mums and dads that fear germs, use anti-bacterial wipes on their steering wheels and only buy organic food as a rule seem not to like my dogs.  Since I have had my dogs I have never said 'Sorry' so much in my life.  I can start apologising for something that hasn't even happened just by catching a glimpse on the look of someone's face when they pass me and my dogs in the street. Part of my learning curve at the moment is to try and not say sorry.  Its hard. Sorry, but it is.  Sorry.  See?