Sausage Sorrow

After lying in my basket all night thinking about going to Clive Ramsay to get a sausage for my lunch, I got so carried away at the V.E.T imagining its fine flavours, that I forgot to wince when I got my booster!!

Before I could say ‘Organic Pork’ we were back in the car and heading home; the smell of that succulent sausage getting fainter and fainter as we went further down the motorway.

In comparison the chew stick I got instead was just one step up from something stolen from the bin! Not that I’d ever lower myself to stealing from the bin, of course...

Not the Vet!

DD is back home and the whole hospital mystery has become clear – it was the way he smelled of the vet that gave it away. I hope for his sake they didn’t take his temperature the way they take mine!

I’ve got my booster on Saturday, so am already practising a slight whimper for when the needle goes in. If I do it well enough MM feels so sorry for me that she takes me for lunch.

She also has to take the dreaded V.E.T (I hate saying the whole word) a sample of my puppy piddle, so we should have some fun with this one!

Last year, I spend about half an hour dodging them - and their plastic bowl - before giving in because I was starting to feel bad about the way the neighbours were laughing at them.

Wet & Woeful

Being dragged out in gale force winds and driving rain is doing nothing for me and my reputation in the area as the canine Brad Pitt.

It also doesn't help when MM insists I wear this jacket...


But then, you should see the one she wears. And she calls herself stylish?!

Feline Friends

I know I call this my Dog Blog, but I’m more than happy to have followers of any kind - two or four legged.

I mention this, because I already have a couple of kitties on board and unlike a lot of the canines I know, I’m fond of my feline friends.

No-one can carry off ‘aloof’ like a cat can and you have to admit that their attention to detail when it comes to cleanliness is pretty impressive.

To demonstrate, here is a picture of my puss pal, Ginger, incorporating yoga and a morning wash on the sunroof of our neighbour’s car.


Now, I’m no stranger to yoga myself and can manoeuvre a pretty magnificent ‘downward dog’ - for maximum attention and a guaranteed tummy rub, this is best accompanied by a loud, long yawn.

But just take a look at Ginger!

You’d have to go to the Kirov Ballet to see a better leg extension than that.

Bothered & Bewildered

Usually I’m quite a clever canine, but a conversation with DD has got me confused.

Most days, MM & DD leave me for a few hours and go to Work. They’ve done this for years and although they take me almost everywhere with them, they don’t take me there.

Why not? Is it too far away? Would I have to go on the train (I hate the train)? If it’s so nice that they feel the need to go there all the time, why don’t we just live there?

Today, DD throws another location at me that I’ve never been to. Hospital...

Apparently, he’s going there on Monday for a while and I can’t go with him. Last year, MM went there for over two weeks and didn’t even come back with a tan! Actually, she looked awful when she got back and didn’t seem to have enjoyed herself at all, so I really can’t understand why DD would want to go.

Is this the start of separate holidays each year? And if so, can I get to go to The Barking Bedgebury when it’s my turn?

Top Tip For Autumn

I love this time of year.

The sun is low and bright, bringing out the best tones in my fur and it’s cool enough to enjoy long, leisurely strolls without getting sweaty paws.

But best of all, there are fallen leaves everywhere.

Little clumps of them are just perfect for picking up and dropping off your pee-mail and if you’re lucky enough to come across a load of them in a big pile, dive in and snuffle under them for a while. Bliss!

Be warned though... Only dive in if they are dry!

Wet, sticky and stinky leaves are like yellow snow - best avoided!

My Very Own Dog Blog!

I live with two people who see no shame in calling themselves Mutty Mummy and Doggy Daddy...

Add to this the fact that they make up songs about me, then force me to sit listening to them while they wail tunelessly and it’s enough to make a dog barf up his Bonio. It also highlights their complete lack of consideration when it comes to the sensitivity of my much heightened hearing.

But they love me (deep down in my little doggy heart, I love them too) and have decided that at the grand old age of seven, I’m mature enough to have my very own Dog Blog - to not only air my furry frustrations, but also to record my dreams, my disappointments, my dinners and my days out.

Well, I will start recording them just as soon as I master this keyboard / computer stuff; paws and technology are a tricky combination.

If I'm honest, I’d never have agreed to this if I’d known the ‘mouse’ was a fur-less, clicky thing that sits on a plastic mat. What’s the point if you can’t chase it and then hide it in your basket for a midnight snack?