Hello there, and humble apologies for staying away so long but my secretary (aka my Mum) has been a bit busy dealing with bureaucrats and halfwits, as well as doing some hefty reading for this Open University thing that prevents her from cuddling me, playing with me and sitting out in the garden in the sunshine (well – not all the time).
So, I have been here twelve weeks now and I am well and truly part of the family 🙂 – especially now that I’ve met the Other Boy – the one that goes to University. My Mum and Dad brought him back in the middle of the night and after a bit of bribing with doggy treats we have become firm friends. He doesn’t do walkies or dinners but he says hello to me and tells me to sit – so we have a relationship of sorts. I wuff at him when he comes out of his room occasionally because I forget that there’s someone in there. He also objects a bit when I wake him up by barking at the postman and the very nervous parcel delivery man (a dog bit him once so I guess he’s allowed to be a bit scared of my wuffing). My Mum is so worried about me traumatising the postman that she’s bought a postbox and nagged my Dad into drilling holes in the wall and hanging in it up outside. It was not a very nice day weatherwise. I hope that postman is grateful – I quite liked trying to catch his fingers when they poked through the letterbox 😦
I have also been introduced to the Computer Man – who is an adopted member of the family. I grrrrr-ed at him a bit too when we first met but gravy bones can work wonders.
My family is beginning to learn more about me; most important of all is that I can be a bit unpredictable. They were beginning to build up a picture of the kind of person I am likely to wuff at – the problem is – I keep moving the goalposts. Not only do I wuff at bright fluorescent jacket people (especially wheelie bin men) but I got a bit aggressive towards a nice old lady in a yellow rain jacket too (only verbally – my Mum was holding onto me very tightly).
Bicycles – mmmmm – I don’t wuff at my Boy’s bike when he leaves it in the garden – sometimes I ignore bicycles when they come past me in the road but on other occasions I go a bit ballistic. The other day when going out in the car with my Mum and my Dad, a harmless lady in a pink bike helmet rode past and I went off on one again. No rhyme or reason – don’t ask me – I’m just a dog. We have established though that I don’t actually have a thing about cats – my reaction to a rabbit legging it across a field has confirmed that it is small fast-moving animals that push my buttons. I don’t like cats but as long as they are stationary, I will behave. Promise.
I love going out in the car – even if we don’t end up with a decent walk – I just love the drive and the sticking my nose out of the window. The Other Boy has objected to me getting HIS car seat hairy and grubby so I now have a special cover to put on the seat. It’s a bit slippy though and if my Dad drives fast we end up finding out just how far my car harness extends (only a few feet luckily).
We went on another trip to the beach – it was the one my Mum and Dad first took me to when the tide was in. This time it was out and there were men. Men; just standing. My Dad took me up to one and I was a bit wary at first – although I didn’t wuff. I sniffed, wagged my tail and christened his leg but he still didn’t move. Weird. All those men and they all looked the same. I loved the beach though and my Dad and I ran and ran and ran. They we came back to my Mum who was waiting very patiently with the doggy treats – Yay!
They have this thing called Easter when people eat chocolate eggs – a definite no-no for us dogs but my Mum being the big softy that she is, bought me special dog egg. She and my Dad went off for two days on a mercy mission, leaving me to look after the house and the two boys – who forgot to give me my egg. They remembered their own of course. My Mum gave me the egg when they got back but it had been left in the sun and was rather melted. It tasted nice though and I was so pleased to see them back again that I have forgiven the boys (who stayed in bed nearly ALL day – but I promised not to tell – oops).
We are going on a dog-friendly holiday in a couple of weeks. My Dad booked the holiday to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary (they stay together a long time these humans). It was supposed to be a romantic week away in a seaside cottage in Cornwall. Guess who’s coming with them? Yep! I am. And the Boy. The Other Boy will be back at Uni by then. My Mum says the cottage is right next to the beach and I will be able to run and run and run every day. It will be a long car journey (with lots of stops for yours truly to wee and wuff), and on the way back I will be meeting more of my family; I expect they will be well-briefed about my wuffing habit and supplied with doggy treats.
So, that’s been my life for the past six weeks or so. We have a proper routine now. My Mum and I still play hunting for treats first thing when all the others are asleep (or gone to work in my Dad’s case), then she takes me into the front garden for a wee. Unfortunately a couple of weeks ago an uppity husky-type dog ran into our garden and I was so anxious to sort it out that I took my Mum by surprise and pulled her over on the grass. She did something nasty to her shoulder and it is taking along time to heal so it’s up to my Dad and my Boy to take me for walks – she sometimes comes out with me and my Dad but this thing that we can’t mention has made her a bit stressed and anxious and she worries that her anxiety makes me more prone to wuffing and growling at strangers – because I have to protect her you see. After I’ve been outside I curl up next to her on the sofa whilst she eats her breakfast and watches the news (she shouts at the TV sometimes but I don’t mind).
My Dad and I run most of the time when we go out, and considering he was a bit hesitant about taking me on, he loves me lots and I love him too. My Boy is a bit more strict with me and doesn’t let me pull when we go out but he also comes down in the middle of the night and we sit together on the sofa watching ‘Storage Hunters’ and programmes about guns. He is my Boy and always will be. He might be going away on a course after the summer and I overheard him say to my Mum (yes, I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop but what else is a dog to do?) “What about my dog if I go away? Would you still keep him?’ My ears pricked up and my heart beat faster. My Mum told him not to be so daft; she said that I was a part of the family now and nothing would ever change that.
Got my paws well and truly under the table. I promise to try not to wuff at people so much – or growl at harmless but yappy little dogs.