Wow, left at home all afternoon while my mum was lunching so what a surprise when she said we were going out for dinner. Two proper meals in one day, unheard of! She meant she was having dinner, of course, but I had some lamb leftovers from her lunch which were delicious.
Of course she was unable to eat everything so I got chunks of pheasant which had been pan fried with wild mushrooms, onions and cream – though no sauce came my way.
Then is was a wonderful romp on the floor with Philippa. I love Philippa, she knows how to play with me.
We came home with more wild mushrooms and mum has marinated them in avocado oil with lime juice and zest, thyme, garlic, salt and pepper. I’ll not be having any of those – they’re a vegetable, aren’t they, sort of? I don’t do vegetables.
Marinated St george’s mushrooms, foraged in Northumberland
Mmm, my mum had a Cornetto after dinner and it smelled so good I couldn’t tear my eyes and nose away from it. I’m not normally given bits of dessert but tonight she obviously took pity on me, couldn’t resist my appealing look, so I got the last of the cone which still had some strawberry ice cream in it. Now that’s the sort of fruit I like. Yummilicious!
Mum says I have to include the song from the advert. (Maybe if Walls see this they will send me more!)
Passed my post op x-ray at the vet surgery with flying colours. I’m healing just they way they want me to and can slowly increase the amount of exercise. Got to go back in another four weeks for a final check but my mum is so pleased and treated me to a homemade chicken and rice dinner, just the same as she was eating, when I got home.
I was pretty bushed after the anaesthetic so didn’t do much last night other than sleep but today I’m off to bootcamp and the Irish cousins. No galloping on the stairs, though, that has to be on the lead. An no balls or running, just gentle gambolling. And I thought only Wombles gambolled…
I’ll be back home tomorrow cos there’s a street party and the promise of lots of lovely food. We had a street party for the Queen’s diamond jubilee and it was fantastic – lovely people and doggy friends. My mum is making sausage rolls, flapjack and a lemon and blueberry cake in a new Nordic Ware tin she brought from New York. I can smell the butteriness from here.
A treat, says my mum, as she tosses a hard pink thing into the yard, not to be brought indoors. You’ve been such a good patient and been on your own a lot while I’ve been living it up in New York (hence no dogblogging), so I’ve got you an extra special treat.
I take a sniff – nothing familiar about this. Look at her and question: ‘but…what is it?’
A marrowbone, you fool, a raw marrowbone full of nutrients, she replies as Marley comes, has a sniff and starts licking the end. Hmm, if the cat likes it, maybe I will. He was caught pinching my wet food straight out of the can last night so, to me, cat/dog food seems to be dual purpose, though my mum says not.
After he gets fed up I investigate; maybe it will be good after all. It had better be; she’s closed the door and shut me in the yard. Hope Marley doesn’t come back and try to muscle in…
Nearly May and it’s been snowing so, after a brief foray this morning, we’ve been indoors all day. My mum has been doing some woodwork painting, I’ve played with my toys and had my dinner, plus a few sleeps. I’m just having my post-dinner rest then I’ll forage in the toy basket again and play with my mum so she doesn’t get bored.
Such a busy day and I’m dog tired. We went for a lovely muddy walk along the waggonway and that meant a hosedown when we got home but I stood there and behaved myself cos I don’t want my mum to think I want to avoid mud because I don’t like the hose. Afterwards I get a rubdown with a soft towel then wrapped up in my Surf Dog robe to dry off completely. I’ve had my dinner and now I’m ready for some serious rest. Can you tell?
My mum says I’m spoiled rotten and I have to agree. We went to the pub for Sunday lunch and what do you know – I was treated to beef, again. Oh, it was super delicious, great thick slices with lashings of gravy. I had to dig through the sprouts my mum moved off her plate so it was slow going but I managed to scoff every bit. Except the spouts. If my mum hates them, why does she think I would feel any different?
I waited very patiently while it cooled – see, no dribbles.