With the family

Dog life has been ticking along nicely, although there was a big hiccup a few weeks ago when the whole family left me at the dog hotel for, what seemed like, a very long time.  The came back all smiles with brown skin, so they must have gone somewhere where the sun was shining quite a lot.  It was good to be back home, and I kept telling them that too (they weren't impressed).  It was also good to get back to annoying Pepper - apparently he'd enjoyed his cat hotel stay very much.  He mentioned something about "lots of peace and quiet"!

Anyway, I've been out and about in the Land Rover helping the Daddy navigate the green lanes around here and the Katie has been making me do lots of jumping in exchange for nice (but healthy) treats.  I think I'm pretty nifty at the jumping lark actually - perhaps I should go in for some competitions next year.

I'm fighting fit and having fun

Since my nasty little hiccup of an op, the Mummy has changed my diet from dried food to half dried, half wet, so I'd like to pass on bucket loads of thanks to the vet for insisting I have wet food during my recovery period - it's the best ever!  The Mummy and the Daddy say I've got loads of energy (more so than before) and I think they're probably right.  It's either down to the new food or perhaps to the fact I've no longer got a piece of corn cob stuck in my innards!!

There's been lots of playing recently.  Ball play went down the pan for a while after my op, but I found a new and exciting game to replace this - catch the light.  It drives me up the wall (literally) - I chase this little light that flickers around the room (usually the kitchen cupboards) until I go so berserk all I can do it bark and bark to show my overwhelming happiness.



My folks have also come up with a new game which involves me getting some kind of yummy treat (they bought a load at the Burghley Horse Trials last week), or my favourite ball, out of an upturned plastic cup.  It's really easy to do (but I let them think it's quite hard, just so I get lots of praise and goodies).

My other new game is hunt the Pepper.  He used to hide in the airing cupboard all day so I always knew where to go to annoy him.  These last few weeks he's been shifting around abit for his day time sleeps so I have to mooch around the house looking for him.  His latest hideout (if you can call it that) is Katie's bed.  This is brilliant as the Katie used to have one of those really tall beds, with steps, so I wasn't able to get up there and see Pepper, but now he's within reach.  Things are fine until he starts to hiss and I start to bark, then the folk get abit fed up with it all and turf me out of the room.

Listen up folks

I've been a little under the weather these last few days, although I'm well and truly on the mend now, thanks to my folks looking after me and to the kind V.E.T. who sorted me out in double quick time.

Last Thursday morning I greeted my Mummy with a puddle of sick!  Yuck, I know but there have been other mornings where I've gotten a little bored of waiting I've left her a similar present to tell her off.  She got the hint eventually, and began to give me a bit of grub before bed, so the throwing up didn't happen quite so often.  This Thursday though, I didn't throw up on purpose, I did it because I was feeling a bit under the weather (although not so under the weather that I couldn't got for a morning ball play at the park)  The Mummy and the Katie went off to the stables as usual, and when they got home the Daddy correctly reported that I'd been throwing up the whole time they'd been out.  First it was my breakfast, then it was bits of apple that the Daddy had given me yesterday, then it was nothing but clear slime with lots of grass in it (the first time I did this, I managed to spread it from one room into the next - the Daddy wasn't impressed).  I tell you, it was hard work on my tummy constantly throwing up.  The look on the Mummy's face was enough to confirm she wasn't going to let this go on for much longer.  She got on that thing called the "phone" and talked to the V.E.T.

Strangely enough (and doesn't this always happen), I stopped throwing up once an appointment with the V.E.T. had been made (for early next morning - they're very popular V.E.Ts), and I began to feel a bit better. 

Next morning came and, as the V.E.T. had suggested, I got yummy chicken with not so yummy boiled rice for breakfast.  The Mummy was over-the-moon to find I could keep the chicken down and as I felt a bit better she decided to cancel the visit to the V.E.T.  Deep down I knew this was a bad mistake - my tummy still felt rather dodge.  Naturally I waited until she'd chatted to the V.E.T. and then decided to throw up the chicken and then an hour or so later I threw up a rather strange looking object which the Mummy called a sweetcorn cob.  Lots of head scratching going on now - apparently my folks hadn't had corn-on-the-cob for several months.  Obviously, being a pooch and not a human, I couldn't enlighten them as to where I'd picked it up.  That, my dear readers, will be my secret for ever more!!

Back on the phone and it seemed the earliest V.E.T. appointment was Saturday afternoon.  The V.E.T. didn't seem too concerned, especially as I was able to chuck up something rather nasty like a corn cob!  As it turned out, Friday night I just wanted to sleep and be left along - everyone was worried for me.  That good man, the V.E.T. phoned first thing Saturday morning, and demanded I be brought in to the surgery for further investigation immediately, rather than wait until my appointment.

I certainly didn't like it there as they whisked me away and I had to watch as the Daddy and the Ben walked out of the room.  This funny camera thing took a photo of my innards and then, without further ado, I was out like a light for a few hours.  It turns out a bit of that horrible corn cob had got stuck in my bowels - rather lucky that V.E.T. phoned wasn't it - could have been a bit nasty for me otherwise.

I've got this rather silly lampshade thing to wear now as I keep scratching my stitches.  To think the label reads "fashionable collar" - yeh, right!

So lovely readers with pooches - please make sure your faithful hound doesn't eat corn on the cob, it could turn out to be rather bad, and rather expensive too apparently.  And while I'm on the subject, the V.E.T. said dogs shouldn't eat sticks, socks or any other yummy looking object that's not been given to you in a bowl  - they can all make you blocked up.  Life's just so unfare.

My favourite window ...

This is the window Pepper likes to come in through.  I sit and watch it a lot, just so I don't miss him.  Mummy lifted me up to get a really good view out of this window the other day - boy you can see forever out of it!

Balls, and lots of 'em too

Not sure if I have mentioned this before, but, apart from food (a dog's priority), tennis balls are my top, top wonderful thing to own.  I own quite a few you know!  I was so lucky to come into a household where the Boy used to play tennis.  This means, yep, you've guessed it, that there were tennis balls everywhere, even new unopened boxes of them!  I whittled his big stash of tennis balls down to just a handful (if you have big man like hands that is).  Not sure what happened to the rest, I guess they're somewhere in the park, the garden, the house, even sinking into the marshes most likely.  Anyway, the ones I have left are special, so special.  They smell fab and are all slimey, chewed, dented and very well used.

The Mummy bought one of these small ball throwers a few weeks ago - amazing.  I can scoot across the park at break neck speed when the Family use it.

The Mummy is so impressed with my love of the little yellow things, she decided to add a tinsy winsy one to her latest craft work - "Patch plays ball" - although I'm a little put out that Patch isn't modelled on me!

A tiny food obsession

Oops, I've been caught a couple of times now!  I have a thing for hunting down food - well I am a dog you know and dogs are know to love their grub, even if it is scraps.

A couple of weeks ago, when it was really, really hot, The Mummy was sitting outside sewing and I was keeping myself busy looking for a lost tennis ball.  I couldn't believe my luck when I came across a stash of eggs lurking deep in the hedge.  After a bit of a sniff around and tasting session I had to dash off to tell everyone else about my wonderful find.  All I got in return was mega grumbles of an awful pong that was surrounding me (obviously it was a worse pong that my usual little wind problems).  That didn't deter me though, oh no!  Back I went to investigate the eggs further.  The Mummy was horrified when I sauntered up to her with my head covered in sticky yellow stuff - boy did she exclaim at the state of me and the terrible stench.  Goodness, all that fuss for a few eggs.  Mind you, she was pleased to discover that Gina (our recently deceased hen) hadn't stopped laying eggs at all these last few months, she'd just been laying them in the hedge!  The Mummy promptly gave me a bath (I have way too many baths for a dog you know) and kept saying "I hope you won't be sick after all those stale eggs".  I'm pleased to report that I wasn't.

This morning I managed to sneak into the chicken run to grab a bite or two of pasta The Mummy had left in there as a treat for Georgie.  Didn't realise she'd caught me (again) and captured the whole thing on camera.  It looks like Georgie's about to march up and give me a piece of her mind doesn't it, but I don't listen to chickens, they're all cluck and no action!

Cat problems

Everyone at my house is my friend, the cats, the rat, the rabbit and even the chicken (and of course the human beings too), but there's one cat that I'm finding extremely hard to understand and, to be honest, it's getting me and the rest of the family a bit het up.

The cat in question is Pepper. I'm told several times every day what a loveable hound I am, but somehow this young puss really doesn't like me, let alone love me. From the moment I set foot in my new home, Pepper would run off. Allie and Kandar usually just ignore me and quite often they're so quiet I find I've tumbled over them in my haste to get outside and play ball. We obviously have a silent agreement "I'm here, you're here, so let's just get on with it". If only that was the case with Pepper. Lately he's been aggravating me by hissing and whinging whenever he comes in to eat or sleep. The Mummy says I really don't help by jumping up and barking whenever I see Pepper at the window, but really, that cat gives me an evil look and lashes out at me with those horrible sharp claws - of course I'm going to voice my frustrations.

The other day I nearly had the fright of my life. A small black cat was sitting perfectly still on the bathroom floor. I couldn't believe my luck to start with, I thought perhaps Pepper had finally come around to my way of thinking and way going to let me sniff his behind. I inched forward (I wasn't nervous - no, really I wasn't) and eventually I was able to do the sniffing thing. I quickly found out it was a nasty joke - it wasn't a cat at all. I know this for sure because it certainly didn't smell of cat, let alone Pepper, and I'd know the smell of Pepper anywhere. Perhaps it is a stuffed cat!

Anyway, the humans must think I'm a bit dim or something because they kept putting this stuffed thing around the house expecting me to react. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

Now ... where's that cat.