Stranger on the shore – Scooby makes a friend in ‘Another Place’

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 ūüôā – 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 ūüė¶

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 Р the problem is РI 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 Рmy 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 Рa 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 Рwho 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 Рbut I promised not to tell Рoops).

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 Рor growl at harmless but yappy little dogs.

No one gets hurt if they don’t act funny – part 2 – Warning to the sensitive – reference to faecal matter

Dog Poo!

It can be big, but it isn’t clever and people who don’t clear up after their dogs are lazy, inconsiderate, selfish and life-endangering sleazeballs – so there.

I have my humans trained – they wouldn’t dream of taking me off the premises without scented biodegradable nappy sacks (more durable than poo bags and actually cheaper – what kind of message does this send out?) to safely package up my eliminations. ¬†In addition they also carry kitchen roll and hand sanitiser for when things get REALLY messy. ¬†Should they underestimate the number of bags needed (this only happens on local walkies because I have a rucksack containing EVERYTHING I could possibly need including a whole kitchen roll and a packet of nappy sacks) they bring me home and go back alone with a new supply of bags to finish the clean up operation. ¬†It may not be the most pleasant task in the world but it only takes a few moments and once inside a waterproof (and scented) sack, ¬†the problem is solved together with the treading-in- it issues and the risk of toxicara.

So why is it that the dog walkers who pass by our house are leaving piles of poo behind them?  Not big solid macho poos (like mine Рsmirk) but measly little runny poos reminiscent of what chickens and geese leave behind.

We know who you are.

Neighbour with a cairn terrier and a shitzu.  Old age is not a defence.  We have seen you Рthe temptation to deposit a big fat jobby outside your gate has so far been resisted Рso far.

Tiny woman with a pushchair and a skinny whippet. ¬†If you can make the time to put on your face and dress your whippet in a designer pink and black overcoat, then you can pick up your dog’s poo too!

My Mum says the poo depositors have probably been doing it outside our garden wall for years but we rarely walked round that way and as new dog owners my humans are now highly sensitised to such doggy matters. (She would also like me to point out that she doesn’t do dog walking without her face on, got dressed and brushed her hair – this is why we do hide and seek games in the back yard first thing – no one can see the state of her -frightening bedhair, ¬†flannel nightshirt and wellies – oh my!).

Yesterday my Dad took me out for a run after his nightshift. ¬†It was wheelie ¬†bin day so he took the bin out at the same time and left it outside the gate and to one side of a pile of poo deposited by a sneaky late night rambler the night before. When we returned home. panting and slightly exhilarated some ten minutes later, we found that some moron had deliberately moved the bin – right into the pile of poo. ¬†The bin wasn’t blocking the pavement so why move it? ¬†(It wasn’t the bin men – they don’t come till after lunch). ¬†The bin was full and quite heavy – so it wasn’t a child. ¬†The mystery of poopgate continues.

Ah well, I’ve ranted now. ¬†I’ve been out to play games with my Mum, had breakfast and am having a lie down so that I don’t get bloat. ¬†My Boy is going to take me out for a walk when my breakfast has gone down and my Mum says we’ll go out for another adventure this afternoon when my Dad wakes up from his nightshift.

So, you irresponsible dog walkers – get on and clean up after your beloved beast – not only is your negligence dangerous, it is also against the law and I bet you wouldn’t like it if someone did it on YOUR doorstep.

Oooh, I can hear the thunder of size 12 feet.  Walkies!