At the

beginning of this year we were contemplating getting a family dog.  Unsure of the idea I solicited advice from my

Facebook friends.  My friend’s sister

replied “Get a dog! Get a dog! Get a Dog!

 

Thanks for

that Catherine.  But WHY did you keep the

realities of puppy care to yourself? 

 

My family

had a dog when I was a child.  I loved Blanche

as I would a non-biting non-scratching sister. 

She was never any trouble at all. 

But of course, looking back, as I was only six when we got her I didn’t

actually do much to care for her.  I can

remember playing with her after school and taking her for walks in the

holidays.  So who picked up the poo and what

on earth did she get up to when I was at school or in the early hours of the

morning when I was tucked up in bed.  I

guess it’s a bit late to ask now!

 

So ‘the

dog’ is here to stay.  He’s lovely

really.  Most of the time.  However, he must speak English and have a

keen sense of retribution.  For after my

husband cursed him verbally and rued the day that he picked that cuddly little

furball from the litter, the dog fell sick. 

He did it to teach my husband a lesson, I’m sure.

 

After much

guilt tripping and a nice fat vet’s bill the dog is on the mend.  I’m sure it was only because he was poorly

that he kept us up all night.  He has no

excuse though for using me as a maypole, swinging around, teeth firmly clamped

to my left boot.  Maybe he’ll calm down

in time.  For now, though, I'll get on

with the cooking as I trail the snarling mass of dog around the kitchen floor

by my ankle.  At least it saves me

sweeping up!