I'm interrupting this dormant dog-blog to write about my entry into the world of children's literature - there will still be the occasional mention of my erstwhile doggie companion who is still a pup in spirit, if not in size.

9 May 2012

Home Alone!

   I have started working – just a couple of days a week – and poor Pip has had to endure being HOME ALONE! 

   He’s actually coping reasonably well. The damage so far:
(1)    Destroyed one stuffed toy – which was his to destroy.
(2)    Ate part of his bed, chewed the foam out of it.
(3)    Chewed into small pieces several polystyrene meat trays which we sometimes serve his dinner on.
   I think we’ve gotten off pretty lightly. Anyway, he is super excited to see me and the kids when we arrive home at around 3.45. Bounces around, jumps on us – yes, muddy paw prints on my work duds – and uses very effective body language to let us know that he’s very glad to see us and can we go for a walk now please, huh, can we? Huh? Pant, pant!
   With one thing and another today was my first day home with him for quite some time. I took him for a reasonably brief morning walk and then when we were both getting bored with the computer we went for another walk. Ahem, yes to the Cheeky Cow.
   Sat out the front in my customary spot where you can tie your dog up with a water bowl. There I met a very nice lady with a 15-year-old Scottish terrier called Mimi. She said Mimi had put on weight because her companion dog had died a couple of weeks ago and rather than pining, she felt it her moral duty to eat his share of food. (She's also addicted to chicken-flavored toothpaste!)
   The lady was a lifetime dog lover and told me a wonderful story about a Great Dane she used to own called Winston. I asked if he was named after Winston Churchill and she said yes, because he used to get those bone shaped dog biscuits and hold it in his mouth, regally, as if puffing on a cigar. The thing about Winston was he HATED dog school. I explained that as Pip had been a bit naughty lately we were trying to rein him in with the Good Dogs of Australia course. She said Winston was an impossible dog and she had taken him to dog school in a desperate bid to train him. Poor Winston was so traumatised by dog school that he used to throw up all night after each lesson!
   But the funny thing was that once the lady gave up and abandoned dog school, Winston was a changed dog. They lived in the country and she said as they entered their verandah, they’d wipe their feet on a mat before entering the house. They'd say 'wipe your feet Winston' and he would. And when they had company they'd say 'wait for the ladies, Winston' and he'd stand off to one side as the guests passed through into the living area.
   Hmm, maybe there’s hope for Pip yet!

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