My mum says I am an embarrassment. We are in the lovely bread shop and I’m chatting up the customers then the owner comes round the counter to wrap our sourdough loaf.
‘I can’t give you a cuddle, I’m working,’ she says as I move towards her. Well, I’m a dog who perseveres so I reach out and put a paw on her leg. Everyone in the shop goes ‘awww’ and she reaches on the counter for a jar with hand made dog biscuits.
It’s big, shaped like a bone, so she breaks it into several pieces and I reward her by giving a paw for every bite. It was delicious: irresistible – like me.
The last few weeks have taught me perseverance: if at first you don’t succeed, try again – and again – and the opposition will give in.
Our dining room has been upside down because of decorating and for much of the time me and the cats have been barred from entering. When it was habitable again I found my mum had moved my bed to another corner. It was a shock, didn’t feel right and I refused to get into it. She said it was’t going back to the original place and I could like it or lump it.
She moved it to another corner and I tried; I did try but it upset my equilibrium. This morning, damp after our walk, I lie down in protest under the table on the cold tiles – and my mum relents; she puts my bed back in its proper place!
I won. I persevered and I won!
Mum lets me out the front for a wee last night – and forgets me!
I was happy enough sniffing around the street (pedestrianised) – wonderful traces of other pooches, bits of discarded food, hedgehogs, sometimes fox smells – until Cleo cat appears and asks what I’m doing, should I be out, alone, in the dark.
Well should I? I’d clear forgot my mum wasn’t there so hurried back to our house where the front door was open. Soon as I start wagging my tail against the walls of the lobby, my mum appears – with horror on her face.
‘I forgot you,’ she says. Well so she did – but I had a lovely time. We had a big cuddle and I forgave her.
Expanding my credentials as a working dog as I help with decorating our dining room.
It’s been a big job because we had the chimney breast opened up. I went to boot camp while that was happening because there was soot EVERYWHERE.
Stair carpet is being cleaned at the end of the week. Maybe I can learn to do that too so I am a real Truff of all trades.
Marley got paint on his tail but I’m a much more experienced worker than him so it’s only dusty paws for me.
We have a very comfy home, me and my mum. There’s two cats but they don’t plague me like Domino (sits on me) and Missy (hisses and swipes). I’m not allowed upstairs – which is strange compared with the Irish Aunt’s place which is all upstairs – and I’m also not supposed to climb on the sofas which, again, is okay at boot camp.
But if I’m surreptitious, I can sometimes sneak a snooze while she’s not looking. She doesn’t like it, particularly when I snuggle into the embroidered silk cushion, but it’s worth the dark looks to have some special comfort. Otherwise I have to lie on the Persian rug…
Showing my appreciation in our favourite café – I got sossidge well before my mum was served!
Now that the sprog is in her teens I’m no longer mauled around and dressed up on a regular basis. That’s down to the Irish Aunt who today sought to make me look like different well known characters.
No guessing who this one is – HM The Queen, of course. My mum wants me to point out that when I left the house the scarf (proper vintage silk, no less) was tied as a neckerchief, not a regal headscarf.
Not satisfied with posing me for a royal portrait, she then tied it in another style and hey, we had…Vera Duckworth.
At last she allowed me the glamour I deserve with a pair of blingy sunspecs, rocking the Bardot chick in her heyday. Which is your favourite?