What a wonderful morning we’ve just had – cake, visitors, lots of petting and attention. My mum held a coffee morning fundraiser and made £137 for Macmillan Cancer Support.
There were some gorgeous cakes, biscuits, cheese scones and chocolatey things and I was lucky to get some tasty treats. Nothing a dog shouldn’t have, mind you, just cake, cheesey bits and shortbread.
There’s one of my mum’s friends who absolutely adores me so I made sure I was sitting near her. It was dry and bright so we were able to sit in the yard in the sunshine.
The cats tried to get in on the act but I was the star of the show with a co-ordinating silk neckerchief. Afterwards we were exhausted, my mum more than me cos she’d been baking all week, so me and mum had a relaxing afternoon.
This may just be the best day in my entire life.
Breakfast al fresco then a l-o-n-g walk on the waggonway, rooting about in the undergrowth, berries bursting out all over, a romp in a wheat field, cooling off in a muddy puddle – then, a complete surprise, proper Sunday lunch in the pub. Oh, it was bliss. I am such a lucky dog.
We were out for more than three hours in glorious sunshine and when I got home I was bushed; all I needed was sleep. Complete contrast to yesterday when it rained all day and we were tucked indoors, lights blazing, after a brief foray. Both of us were dripping wet and I was banished to my bed with my Surf Dog robe until I dried out enough to be allowed on carpet.
After the puddle my mum threatened she would hose me down when we got home but it was so warm, and such a long time before we got back to the house, that I had dried out completely, the mud had turned to dust and fallen off.
The pub was wonderful. Mum was asked ‘would I like beef?’ Would I like beef??? I’ll say, and they brought me a great big dishfull alongside my water bowl. Mmm, delicious.
Wonder if we will go to the pub for lunch next Sunday?
Lunches at The Fat Ox, Whitley Bay.
In the doghouse good and proper. But, really, it’s my mum’s fault for staying in bed and not coming to the beach at 8am.
Our three doggy pals called early and their human said he would take me to the beach if mum wasn’t ready. So I toddled off with them and left my mum reading the news online and catching up on Facebook.
Imagine her surprise when we came back in double quick time, even though the sun was shining and it was a lovely morning. The story unfolded: I would not go with them. They walked one way and I headed back to the car park. I was retrieved, they tried walking the other way and, once again, I headed back to the car park. There were words but no, I was having none of it so we all piled back into the car and came home.
I wanted my mum to share the day and felt bereft without her. She didn’t appreciate my loyalty one little bit – told me off and said I was to have no post-beach biscuits. That’s a bit mean, isn’t it?
After continually telling me I’m a dope, what was my mum thinking of by giving me a puzzle book?
I perused it, searched for clues how to proceed, appealed to her with my best bemused puppy look, then decided it was probably a pillow.
No puzzle after all!
Insurrection in the house as Marley puts his paw down and demands parity with my fame. If the dog has a blog, he has to have an outlet for his exploits, he says. Mum said she wouldn’t upset me by letting him have a blog, which takes so much more skill (tee hee), he could have his own page on Facebook. I’m going to have to monitor this carefully, there’s no telling what he might say. He’s already very adept at keyboard skills.
I have been forced, under threat of no bedtime biscuits, into publishing this pictorial eulogy to the cats. I was blissfully unaware of the significance of this Saturday which began with an invigorating swim on our beach followed by a sunny afternoon in the yard with my people and a delicious dinner with a serving of lamb and vegetables in my kibble.
Then, I”m told, a blog post is absolutely necessary otherwise the cats will be offended. OFFENDED? We’ve hardly seen them. Marley has been out all day (hunting, I expect) and Cleo did her usual round of catcalls then disappeared to sleep on the spare bed.
International Cat Day, I ask you; when is it International Dog Day?
Now we have a different rodent in the house as we pet sit the Irish cousins’ hamster, Cheeks, while they are on holiday.
Cheeks by name, cheeky by nature says my mum after he bit her while she was hand feeding him. She yelped and there was a LOT of blood. She said if he did it again he would be cat food. What, I don’t get a look in? Not that he would be a big meal but he would make a tasty snack.
He came with a shiny green ball which he can wander around in. That gets the cats’ interest, I tell you, as he bumbles from one room to the other. My mum had to chase him cos he was heading for the open front door.
I’m used to him so I ignore his exploring but the cats, especially Cleo, are fascinated. Cleo definitely fancies a snack!