Tuesday, September 26, 2006


You might have noticed, if you've been reading my lady's blog that last week she and her sister took off to someplace called France. I've never been there. The week before that she went to someplace called TheWedding. I've never been there either. She goes all over the place. She flies up in the sky, and crosses water on boats, and I've never done either of those things either. When my lady goes to these places, I get to go to The Kennels. The kennels is a place with a lot of dogs, basically. There are cats, too. And horses. When I get to go out for my run at the kennels, I get to roll in horse-poo. Fun!!! It's not the worst place in the world. I'm warm and fed. And I get the occasional cuddle. But know what? It's not home. It just is not home.

Now, I know I shouldn't be looking for too much sympathy. It's a cross of my own making in many ways, because if I could bring myself to enjoy travelling in the car - or to simply tolerate it without making a horrendous din - then I'd probably be brought on some of her trips. I'd get to visit the Dad, who loves dogs, and would love to have me visit. I'd probably get to go to the pub with him, sit under his table and get fed tidbits from the barman. But I can't tolerate a 5-mile journey, never mind a 220-mile journey, so I get to go to the kennels, while she traipses off all over the country for her weekends, her workshops, her family "things".

I'm only writing this, because I've been brought home (out on some kind of temporary parole) for a few days! Really! She collected me yesterday, and now I'm hearing mentions of Thursday travelling. This is ridiculous! Am I, or am I not, her companion-animal? What kind of companionship is that? Will someone please let her know that I'm not happy about this?

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

This is just here to help with some technical stuff over at GreenishLady. The things I have to Do!

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Where Have I Been? And on the subject of Walks...

I've been here. Sleeping a lot. This couch, the sitting-room couch, my little igloo-bed (when my lady is out), that sunny patch on the hall carpet, and of course, THE Bed, too. I told you I was getting old. Well, now I know it.

I said I'd be talking about walks at at some stage. That they deserved a post all of their own, me being a dog and all. Well, it seem talking about walking is all I'm going to be doing from now on. There was a very humiliating event on a Sunday. I know it was a Sunday, because she was getting the paper, and she said, as she always does, "Well, Trixie, will we go get the paper?"

[Aside: Truth is, she doesn't always say that. Often, if it's raining, windy, cold, foggy, frosty, damp, or threatening to become any of those things, she takes the car, but that ruins a good story, so stick with "as she always does". OK?]

Because I'm quite deaf, I rely on a lot of other signals to tell me what's being said, but the emergence of my lead (and a plastic bag) from the hall cupboard told me that indeed we were going walking. I was Happy. I mean HAPPY. I love walks. I love getting out and sniffing under escalonias, and checking out the lampposts, and seeing that Jack Russell up the road thinking he has some chance with me. (Huh! Not a chance!). I always jump up and down. I always do my little "puppy-dance", and she says "Shush. Stay still. If I can't get your lead on, we can't go for a walk", so I quieten down, she puts on the lead, and I set off to take my lady for her walk.

We go right. We always go right. We pass the open gardens, and the fences. I detour under the willow at the corner house. (I love that extending lead she got for me, and that I get "free rein" unless we're near traffic). There are children, who ask about the "puppy" Puppy! Me! , and my lady always proudly tells them that I'm twice their age, or all their ages added together, depending on the ages of the children. (I'm no judge of that. I trust her judgement though). Sometimes I get a patting, and I've been used in Anti-Dog-Fear therapy by quite a few mothers in the neighbourhood. "Look at the cute little Dog!" I am cute. I am little. Some children who wouldn't go near a Spaniel will come check me out! I enjoy it. But they're never allowed to give me chocolate or crisps!

When we emerge from the circle of houses, onto the Thorn Road, she reins me in a little. I know better than to step off the footpath, but there could be other dogs. There's a dalmation, and a boxer who walk here regularly, but they're on leads, and well-behaved. It's that Chow who runs free, and darts into the road to bark at me that has my lady worried. What if I take off after her, and a car comes? So I content myself with checking out the rubbish that's blown under the hedges. Juice-boxes, crisp packets,

[pause, while I follow a natural urge, and my lady responsibly deals with the resulting waste matter. Ahem!]

And at the top of the road, we have to cross the main road. I know about this. I know about Wait, wait, wait. We wait. Cars pass. And then there's a gap, and she says Quick Across, and we run. And once we're on the other side, five minutes from home, I realise I'm exhausted. Did we go the long way round? Why do I feel so tired? Oh, I could just lie down here and rest a little bit.

Friends. I got carried home. Luckily, I am small, and luckily, my lady loves me. But I have been on my last outing to the shop, it seems. From now on, a gentle stroll up the path, and down the path is all I'll be doing.

Walking is wonderful. While you can do it, get out there and do it. And if you have a dog, or can borrow a dog, take them along, and think of me as you go. Enjoy!