I love my mum, the one who lets me on the laptop to write my blog, but she’s not my real mum, my doggie mum Holly. I’ve not seen her since I was an eight-week-old pup but we’re going on a visit this weekend and she lives nearby so we’ll be meeting up! Will she remember me; will my brother Buzz, or my aunt Brogan? I’m so excited. They’re semi-working dogs who go shooting at the weekends, gathering up the birds like pheasant and grouse. Nothing like that on the beach – but maybe they can teach me how to get a seagull!
Getting on really well with the training. My mum must have been impressed in what I’d learnt cos this morning she took me out of our street to Ziggy Chews, the lovely dog boutique, to get a training collar (free dog treats in there as well) and I crossed the road twice without pulling. On the way back home Meg, the chocolate labrador, was playing in the street so my mum let me off to have a romp. I was a bit excited when she wanted me back on the lead and had to be told off but I felt guilty so when we went out after my dinner I was on my best behaviour. She was so impressed we went on a walk round the neighbourhood. I feel like I’ve won the London Marathon! Can I have a bone, please, rather than a medal?
What a weekend this has been – I’m exhausted with all the change. Yesterday my mum had a personal trainer come teach us how to have a calm walk on the lead, no more pulling. I always thought my mum liked my enthusiastic dash down the path and over the gate then me tugging her along. Apparently not. It exhausts her and she’s frightened she’ll fall over or I’ll escape. Wow, I didn’t know dogs weren’t supposed to do that!
We did some exercises in the house – letting my mum go through doors first, which is only polite, and having the lead put on me without getting over-excited. Then we went out and the three of them – the trainer, Irish aunt and my mum – walked up and down a bit of the street till I was so confused I had to watch them all the time to keep up. Next it was doing the same on the lead with fast steps, slow steps, figures of eight and sudden stops. Phew, it was hard work and I really had to concentrate. Afterwards I was bushed. The trainer said what I did was the equivalent of an hour running. I didn’t know that.
My mum was a bit worried this morning that I may have forgotten but I’m a more intelligent dog than that and I showed her! I was polite at doorways, didn’t make a fuss about the lead and walked nicely down the path, let her go out of the gate first (see, polite) and strut my stuff for her in the street. I was desperate to have a good sniff in the bushes but was tugged back – then my mum got the message and took me over herself. Apparently that’s the way it’s supposed to be – I focus on her (or the Irish aunt who got trained as well) and then she decides what I can do. That’s ok, may not have to think so much in future!
The trainer said I learnt fast. I may not be stupid after all.
After Easter visitors and a lovely holiday, it’s back to normal and weekend at boot camp. We had a bit of a romp when the Irish aunt and sprog came to collect me. Sprog likes to wrestle on the floor then I put on a bit of a show chasing my tail, which always has them in hysterics. They think cos I’m four I should have grown out of it. Huh, little do they know what makes a dog happy.
Wow, what a lovely time I had on my hols – riding in the back seat of the car, sniffing out loads of new territory and being fussed by loads of new people. We had a room right near to a door so I could get outside easily and the grounds were gorgeous – masses of new smells and snow. I love snow, catching balls of it which melt in my mouth. We visited a village near Bradford called Saltaire, a World Heritage Site (which means it’s special) and I had a terrific romp beside the canal. http://www.saltairevillage.info/
But my mum says I also have to write about how I blotted my copybook. OK, OK, I did bark constantly the first time I was left in our room so that neighbours complained – but I was lonely and in a strange place. After that I holed up in the car boot when my family went to eat or I sat with my mum in the leisure centre lounge while the Irish aunt and sprog went off to swim. Also, I made muddy footprints on the carpet of our room after we’d been on a woodland walk (the towels too, but don’t say a word about them) and split my lip chasing the ball on the terrace.
Worst, I had an upset tummy ALL the time and….oops, my mum says I haven’t to spill the beans about that. TMI – too much information. Ok, nuff said.
If I promise to be good, will I get to go away again?
Tomorrow, tomorrow, can’t wait for tomorrow: it’s our holidays – and I’ve just realised that when I said all of us the other day, I forgot that we won’t ALL be going – cos THE CAT is staying home! Bliss. And I’m going to be travelling in the back seat of the car instead of the boot cos Yorkshire is a lot further than the beach. Better not leave a trail of hair.
My mum says I have to choose the toys I want to take with me. Think the green rope, Gordon Rabbit and Rudolph’s remaining leg will fit the bill, especially as another dog and his family are going to be in my house on their holiday while we are away. It’s okay him sleeping in my bed and using my water bowl but I don’t want him chewing my favourite toys.