Dog Blog
What puppies do and what puppies don’t do
“There is,” says our mum, “a lot to be said for adopting older dogs.” But then, just because some of us are older, it doesn’t mean that we weren’t daft young things once upon a time, chewing and charging around, defecating and destroying at will, discovering and digging … and then sitting down, head cocked to one side, grinning and panting, eyes shining, asking the perennial puppy questions:
What’s up with you? Why are you flat on your back with a pillow over your head? Why have you switched on the gas but not lit the burner, opened the oven door and stuck your head inside? Why is your finger bleeding? Why are you wearing ancient jogging trousers every day? Why are the jogging trousers in shreds around your ankles? Why are your ankles bleeding? Why are you buying extremely absorbent kitchen rolls by the 100s? Where are all the flowers in the garden? Did your back garden always have so many craters? Where are all the plants? Why do the chickens spend so much time hiding in their luxurious chicken house? And why have they stopped giving the gift of a daily egg? Why have the goldfish disappeared to the bottom of their little pond and it’s not even frosty outside? Why do none of your friends or family come to visit any more? Why is your left eye twitching? Why are all the other dogs in the huff? What is wrong with a bit of mud in the kitchen, in the utility room, in the dining room, in the sitting room, in our nana’s bedroom? Have I done something wrong? Don’t you love me any more?
Yes, puppies, we still love you, come and have a cuddle …
Puppies poo, puppies wee, puppies run through the wee and poo, puppies jump in the wee and poo, puppies are fast, small and fast, puppies are cute, puppies are furry and sweet, puppies have the knack of stopping in the middle of puppy-created-Armageddon and giving you a sly little look of adoration, just enough to fool you into a momentary forgiving sigh before continuing relentlessly and recklessly on their chosen path of puppy purgatory, puppies give you grey hairs and wrinkles, puppies lacerate your digits and then chew your last packet of plasters, puppies attack food like they have never, ever, been fed before, puppies overturn feeding bowls and then scuttle around picking up all the bits of puppy biscuits scattered everywhere, hoovering up unfortunate flies and other assorted beasties in their relentless pursuit of shoving things, anything, into their puppy mouths, puppies eat everything in sight and then throw up on your fireside rug, under your sofa, under your bed, anywhere, in fact, except outside the house in your decimated and destroyed garden, puppies are smug when they wee and poo outside and not in one of your slippers because they know you think you’ve cracked the whole training thing but they know you haven’t, puppies think cats are potentially tasty morsels, puppies paddle in water bowls or pick them up and run around with them, but only when they are full to the brim, puppies sleep …
We think our mum thinks that the sleeping bit is the best bit. At night she pops the bairns into their little safe haven, closes the door, switches on a soothing CD, switches off the lights and creeps upstairs, dithers about sticking in some earplugs but decides against it in case of puppy emergencies and sets an alarm instead.
Puppies howl as well. Did we mention that? What don’t puppies do? Basically they do everything they are not supposed to do and not a lot apart from that.
We are thoroughly fed up of puppies. Did we mention that? But we suppose we will put up with them for the time being because we love the woodburners, we love the telly, we love our walks, we love the woofer sofa(s), we love our games in our garden and our field, we love our paddling pool and the little river near our house when we fancy a splodge, we love sitting outside the kitchen door with our mum when it is nearly dark and the bats are dipping and diving, we love the bread oven and pizza parties and listening to the crack when friends visit (if they ever visit again …) and we love our mum and dad because they take care of us and because mum never turns her back and says no to a needy dog, or cat, or chicken, or goldfish …
Fortunately puppies sleep now and again
Our mum says that puppies may well ‘drive her to drink’, whatever that means.
October 12th, 2012 at 19:31
I wish I had grown up with dogs, but it was cats in our family, and I can’t have any pets just now but love to read your tales of tails!
October 13th, 2012 at 09:57
Three babies! Is there just a touch of alsation…….
Only a year to struggle through and they will all be perfect.
October 13th, 2012 at 10:20
Hi Cousin i will come and visit you tomorrow mayhem or not you know me puppy love xx
October 13th, 2012 at 11:05
The mention of the Magnificent Seven may be explained in a snap of dozing dogs. Yes, I think I see a Marnie but two other little bodies aren’t familiar. I think there’s tale of rescue still to be told and “What our mum does” just might be an alternative title….
October 13th, 2012 at 11:39
Puppy love? That’s a good one. Puppy exasperation? Puppy mayhem? Absolutely!
October 13th, 2012 at 11:44
Yes, Ruth, there is a Marnie there. A tale of rescue of a kind, but not the usual one. The babies are the result of dad’s longing for another GSD and our poorly girl, Breaghah, having had to be spayed for health reasons. We hope she’ll make old bones, very old bones, despite her problems but every day is a gift at present.
October 13th, 2012 at 11:50
Aye, Susan, mum is counting the days. “It’ll all be over by Christmas.” Or Easter? Or next summer? Or next Christmas?
We probably won’t be blogging for a while – we’re all hiding in cupboards and barns or behind trees and want to move in with the (depleted) flock and Ronnie.
One of our Eggwinas passed away a couple of days ago. Old age, sadly, but she died in her bed and not lying under the storm clouds or in the rain.
October 13th, 2012 at 11:51
There are a couple of cats here that would jump at the chance of a new feline-friendly family …
October 13th, 2012 at 13:08
Just goes to show how special you are Breaghah when two have appeared.
October 13th, 2012 at 13:41
Special, our Breaghah? Irreplaceable, and the bairns already know not to even try!