They reckon a month’s worth of rain fell in an hour in Whitley Bay on Thursday. The drains couldn’t cope so the roads were flooded and lakes suddenly appeared. Me and the sprog had a great time paddling in one on The Links but then the Irish cousin (bootcamp boss) pushed me, literally PUSHED me, into the skate park which had become a deep swimming pool. I didn’t want to go in but she didn’t take any notice and gave me a great heave. Ha, ha, she was nearly the swimmer herself cos she almost tipped in! I got out mighty quick and beat it to the safety of the beach.
If the rain was hard at the weekend, wow, today was a monsoon with sheets of rain with thunder and lightning right overhead. It got so dark you would have thought it was a November afternoon, not June. Trains and the Metro stopped, lightning struck the Tyne Bridge in Newcastle and loads of cars were stranded in floods.
We were okay tucked up in the house but, as the thunder got worse, my mum got a phone call asking if she could check on Mack next door as he was alone with just a cat for comfort. (If she’s anything like our cat, that wouldn’t be much!)
Poor Mack, the rescue greyhound, was really spooked so mum brought him into our house and tried to calm him down. He was panting really hard and wouldn’t sit for 45 minutes even though my mum was cuddling him and I gave him some friendly licks to try to make him feel better.
Eventually he settled down but I was a good boy and decided to leave him alone so he could recover from the trauma. I think I would have been very frightened on my own cos, as I said, cats aren’t much use. Ours slept through the whole storm. Cats really have no emotions.
Have you ever heard the saying ‘raining cats and dogs’ ? Now I know where it comes from! Today the rain in Whitley Bay is like nothing I’ve ever seen before – bouncing off the ground. You don’t need to have your own bowl – it splashes straight up into your mouth!
Where I live they call it ‘stottin down’ – that’s Geordie, a whole different language which I’ve had to learn cos I started life with a Scottish accent. Hoots mon and all that. There’s been thunder as well but I’m not frightened cos it sounds just like a Metro train.
Of course us canines go out in all weathers. I particularly like the snow when my mum throws snowballs and I try to find them. That sometimes taxes my brain a bit, can’t fathom out at all where they go.
My broken claw is still sore and I give it a lot of attention. The bootcamp boss bought a chew to distract me. I like a nice tasty chew – wonder how often I have to lick my paw to ensure a constant supply?
It’s my ambition to be as famous as this feline – but happier.
* Ambitious thoughts (for the canines who can’t speak Francais). Henri, of course is bilingual: as he says ‘Mon Francais is perfect’.
And it wasn’t just the two-legged variety – my greyhound pal Mack came to visit. I got invited to go for a walk with him then when we got home he came in and made himself right at home. He scoffed the remains of my dinner – bit of a cheek, was saving that for later – and even got on the sofa! But he wouldn’t play and bowffed at me when I tried pawing him to get a response. Of course he’s got a lot to learn still about being a proper dog as he’s only had a real home, kindness and affection for nine months whereas I’ve been coddled since birth. It’s not right that greyhounds are bred for sport then thrown out when they finish racing. But he’s got a good life now and is welcome here for play training any time cos I love visitors.
My mum took lots of pictures at the birthday party and I’m still in the sulks cos they had a really good time with lots of food and games. I love food, I love games. They could have played pin the tail on the spaniel – oh, maybe not. I have a tail…
Huh, just learnt I’m not invited to the goddaughter’s birthday party tomorrow – because it’s GIRLS ONLY!! How about that for a snub, especially after all the training I’ve done with her. To think I’ve let myself wear that silly necklace she made at the jubilee street party and I’m not invited to celebrate her 8th birthday. Worse, my mum is going to another party later on and I’m not invited to that either. I’m in a real huff.
Perhaps they’ll save me some birthday cake – although it’s really pink, like the bandage I was forced to wear when I broke my toe. Still, cake is cake. My mum made it – pink cake, pink icing and loads of different chocolates. I did get a single white chocolate drop from the decorations – they’re okay for dogs cos there’s not much real chocolate in them. Sometimes get one from a box that my mum has cos she doesn’t like white chocolate.
It’s a pamper party with a real hairdresser, a make-up session and my mum is painting the girls’ fingernails.
On second thoughts, maybe I’m better off not going – might end up covered in mascara and that Jessica ‘Passionate Kisses’ nail polish my mum likes so much which is bright pink. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate embarrassment?
PS – my broken claw is still not fully healed but I’m managing cos I’m such a brave dog.