“My Hero” by Flossie

Hi all, Flossie here. I thought it about time I put in an appearance. It would seem that the Boss has been hogging the keyboard for far too long.

Remember me?

Not only did she disappear for a couple of weeks, leaving us to cope alone, but she has also been writing about it since she got back with nary a mention of yours truly!

There have been quite a few changes round here since I last wrote. Not least is the appearance of ‘Eddie’ (new kid on the block). I haven’t met Eddie properly yet because apparently, I am too boisterous for a tiny pup. I don’t know where they get this idea from, Doris was a pup when I met her – admittedly, she was already built like a tank and Eddie is, well, from what I have seen through the window, Eddie is on the small side. He belongs to the Boss’s eldest son and has visited just once so far.

Meet Eddie

This visit coincided with a visit from one of the little humans who is now crawling round the place and pulling himself up so that he is almost as tall as me.

I observed them all through the patio window as Eddie raced around and around as though running on long-life batteries.

I confess that just watching him made me tired.

As for Doris, now that one has grown too big for her boots to be sure! She is now as broad and as sturdy as she is likely to get and sometimes, between you and me, she is just a little too boisterous for me. I have to admit, she is as gentle as a lamb with little William though, her tiny human.

I haven’t seen as much of my four legged cousins recently so have had to make do with my woodland friends.

Today, The Boss takes Ol’ Keano and me to the nice part of the woods, the part where all the water and the best smells are.

Here we are, sauntering along, minding our own business when, Poof! Out of the trees comes Ellie. Now, Ellie is a large, two year old, German Shepherd. Ellie greets Keano with a cursory sniff and Keano ignores her. I would love to do the same but am not afforded the same courtesy.

Having spotted Ellie, I shrink back behind a tree and hope she wont notice me until she and her owner have passed.

Can she see me?

The Boss is greeting Ellie’s owner and laughing away at something or other. Meanwhile, I am cowering behind a bush, trying not to breathe.

Just as I think it safe to come out, Ellie spots me. She is here in a flash. I do that subservient thing of lying down and looking harmless. Sometimes this disarms Ellie and she leaves me alone. Not today. Today Ellie leaps in for the kill. Well, I exaggerate but then so might you if you had a great hairy monster jumping on top of you.

After a second or two, she backs off and just looks at me, daring me to move. Oh no, I am not going to fall for that old trick. One move and she’ll annihilate me!

I choose my moment carefully and roll over, playing dead. Ellie comes towards me and rather belatedly I think, her owner calls out,

“Oh Ellie, no, leave her alone!” Ellie glances across at her owner and then resumes her position of guarding me.

The Boss then does something completely ridiculous. She calls me. I mean, how can I possibly answer that call now?

The Boss then does something outrageous. She calls Ellie and you know what Ellie does? She trots over to My Boss and asks for a fuss. Unsure whether this will encourage Ellie to corner me in future, the boss pats her head while I take the opportunity to slink away into the trees. Has the Boss taken leave of her senses, getting friendly with that dog? I watch from a safe distance and Ellie goes to stand by her own owner who apologises profusely as she always does (this is a common event) and Keano suddenly appears (where were you, you old scoundrel when I needed you?)

The Boss and Ellie’s Boss, have been muttering things like,

“Oh, Ellie, no, poor Flossie,”

“She’s fine, don’t worry,” (that being my boss – how does she know I’m fine?)

With Keano between me and the devil dog, I am a little more daring and I walk back into the clearing. Ellie takes two steps towards me and Ol’ Keano, who can look quite menacing when he wants, turns and growls at her. Ellie thinks twice and runs back to her owner – hey, well done Keano! Maybe do that a little sooner next time eh?

The rest of the walk continues without incident, unless you count meeting up with Gimble, a large Labrador and his younger brother Gyer, (think Jabberwocky) and chasing round and round the trees, leaving the Boss and The Tess lady, clinging onto some spindly tree trunks lest one of us careers into them.

I have noticed something else about these walks of late too. The Boss seems to have found a way of keeping me away from the really deep, smelly water hole in the middle of the woods. We take the same route, we tread the same paths but then, somewhere along the way, the Boss makes a subtle detour and we miss the hole completely. There is plenty of other water around of course. Streams run throughout the woods and I make best use of them all to cool myself down but that hole, now that is something else – a particularly pungent treat! Alas, I have not yet worked out exactly what is going on but leave it with me. I will I am sure.

This stick looks a little too big...

As we walk back to the car, I see Ellie emerge from the woods some way away. Aha, she is on her lead! Keano sees her too and stops to give her a look that says,

“Don’t mess with me or mine,”

I stare back at her smugly before jumping into the open boot and wiping my paws on the towel the Boss has so thoughtfully laid there.

Keano, my hero!

Meet Doris

Hi, Flossie here,

I have been usurped. They told me her presence in my home was a temporary situation. I am not so sure. She was back again today.

Who is she? ‘She’ is Doris, an English Bulldog Puppy.

Meet Doris:

Meet Doris

Doris arrived with the little human they coo and ah over all the time. At first, she came with her own crate but she soon gave that up and, horror of horrors, is now allowed to climb into bed with Ol’ Keano.

Do you mind if I share your bed?

This is something I have never managed to do, even when I was a tiny pup. Keano would send me packing should I so much as put a paw on his blanket. Doris, it seems, has special privileges. She has her own bed, but prefers his.

Doris wouldn’t win any prizes for beauty. The boss seems to think she is pretty but hey, from a dog’s point of view? She looks as though she has walked into a wall at speed. She would scoop all the prizes for muscle though.

I must say, at 14 months, I retain some of my puppy playfulness so, for me it has been a bonus having a visitor who likes a rough and tumble. But goodness, can that girl pack a punch! I am having a hard time keeping her under control.

Luckily, she seems to have an in-built radar for avoiding trouble and has, so far, neither tried to steal my food nor bury my toys.

There are some things that Doris does that I am not so happy about though. Take yesterday for example. Yesterday, she allowed herself to be lifted onto one of the young human’s laps. Naturally, I tried to follow suit, only to be told I was far too big. Now when did that happen? When did I grow too big to climb on a lap? I asked Ol’ Keano that question but he just looked at me as though I was daft.

I caught sight of my reflection in the water, in the woods today – maybe I am a little too big to be a lap-dog now. Doris didn’t come with us on the grounds that she is still little and, on a short walk the other day with the Boss, her owner and the tiny human on wheels, she had to lie down for a rest. I remember those days well.  (The Boss’s daughter says that on a walk in her home town a couple of weeks ago, Doris suddenly climbed onto the tray beneath the pram and lay there expecting a ride.) Since then she has surely grown too heavy for such carryings on.

There are some benefits to having Doris visit us. I have a constant playmate.

I am not quite sure why the Boss objects to us playing beneath the coffee table. It could be that Doris used to fit under it easily but is now in danger of walking off with it on her back. Judging by Doris’s stature, she’d make a good coffee table herself one day.

As we roll about with the odd snarl and playful growl, the Boss can be heard yelling,

“Out! Out!” at the top of her voice, in that ‘no-nonsense’ way of hers. Doris obediently runs (or rather waddles) out of the house, so, off I go too, just to show I know what is required.

All this activity takes its toll and both of us take time to recover. Doris seems to like curling up with me for her afternoon nap and who am I to complain? It’s really rather nice having a little pup around.

Afternoon nap

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am of course trying to teach Doris some of the things I have learnt over the past year. These include:

1. The art of looking cute – (sit and gaze soulfully up at the nearest human and wait for a reaction.) Doris is practising this one.
2. Never wee in the house – Doris has almost got this one sussed but just as I did, she sometimes confuses ‘outside’ with the dining room or the far reaches of the house.
3. Do not chew the human’s shoes, they wont be best pleased – this was working well until yesterday when she munched on a particularly tasty item of footwear found lurking beneath the sofa.
4. Come when called – I am ashamed to say that Doris seems to have caught onto this one far quicker than I…as the Boss is only too keen to point out!
5. Sleep in your own bed – sadly, Doris cannot comprehend this one at all and continues to climb in with Ol’ Keano who, to my utter astonishment, lets her!

...and sleep

At the end of a strenuous day though, it is rather nice to snuggle up together while the Humans watch the box in the corner and though Doris snores for England, I think we are all agreed, she is rather cute!

Lost in the Woods

Tuesday 26th: Flossie here – by the skin of my teeth!

I have had a traumatic day. The Boss seems to think she had the worst deal but what does she know? Was she the one bemused and lost in a sea of half familiar faces?

Let me start at the beginning.

The warm, sunny weather continues today and we jump in the car bright and early in readiness for our trip to the woods. The last few trips have been a pleasure. The Boss has taken to parking in a different place which is much closer to the burbling brooks and bluebells. She thinks it is aesthetically pleasing to stroll through the bluebell lined paths and watch me splash about in the streams.

Forest floor bedecked with bluebells

It suits me. My coat is a tad too thick for comfort when the sun shines. I make a bee-line for the water and delight in going as deep as I can. Sadly, none of the streams seem deep enough to doggy-paddle in but at this time of year, at least there is water in them!

This morning we arrive, park the car and Ol’ Keans and I leap out and I race off down the track. The Boss follows at a slightly slower pace. This means I have to stop and check she is still there from time to time. Ol’ Keans just trots along, sniffing here and rummaging there – he avoids the water and doesn’t do much running and jumping these days. Strange fellow!

We haven’t gone too far when Ellie the German Shepherd appears. Have I mentioned Ellie before? She is a few months older than me and has an owner who despairs of her tendency ‘to guard’. Ellie sniffs Ol’ Keans and they give each other a curt nod before moving on. I am desperate to be friends with Ellie. I approach slowly and crouch as near to the ground as I can to show her that I mean no harm. Ellie spots me.

Ellie lunges.

Before I know what is happening I am pinned to the ground, helpless, with Ellie’s teeth firmly gripping my neck. Ellie’s owner yells at her from afar and reluctantly, she loosens her grip. I begin to stand, she pushes me back down and growls.

Ok, I get the message. I will stay here for a bit.

The Boss is close by and calling me but I am powerless to go to her until Ellie decides to wander back to her owner. The Boss seems to know the owner and they exchange pleasantries. I am minding my own business but get too close to Ellie’s owner which causes Ellie to growl and pin me to the ground again.

The Boss and Ellie’s owner sort us out. I am not hurt but my pride has taken a bashing. Ol’ Keano obviously doesn’t think I am in any real danger because normally, if a dog threatens me, he will take a stand and scare it off. I secretly wonder if he and Ellie are not in cahoots with one another. Hmmm, I wonder.

The Boss deems it wise to walk on and I dutifully follow, not at all put off by the recent attack upon my person.

The Boss is admiring the bluebells that adorn  the forest floor. I am admiring a couple of Labradors who are lolloping towards me. We must play!  By the time I rejoin the Boss I am quite exhausted and need another dip in the cooling waters of the brook.

Thus passes the first half hour of our walk.

The sun continues to shine and other walkers greet us with a nod and a smile. As we approach a crossroads  where the various paths merge and those who have parked in West Walk Car Park often meet up with those who have parked in Wood End Car Park, the Boss greets a lady who, not so long ago, lost one of her dogs in these very woods. Sadly, he found his way to the road and was knocked down by a car. Such a sad tale. The Boss always greets the lady and stops to say a few words.  Her remaining dog, a gangly fellow, sniffs me and playfully chases me away. Ahead of us is a familiar looking Spaniel who joins us. Before I know it, we are racing round and round and The Boss is calling and walking on and the gangly fellow is racing off towards his owner and the Spaniel is daring me to follow him.

This is where I make an error of judgment.

I follow the Spaniel.

At some stage I turn round to check that the Boss is there. Horrors! Where is she? Where is Ol’ Keans?

I turn back to the Spaniel who has rejoined his owner and is walking happily by her side.

Well, one owner is much like another I suppose, perhaps this one will take me back to the Boss. I tag along hopefully.

I am a little worried after five minutes when there is still no sign of the Boss.

How am I to know that she is frantically calling my name and re-tracing her steps with Keano?

Spooky Upturned Tree Root

The old wooden bench

Did she go this way?

Maybe this way

Or maybe this way?

Or even this way?

Unaware of the drama that is unfolding behind me, I continue to follow the lady with the Spaniel. It is a familiar route – I recognise lots of things –

the old gnarled, overturned tree stump, the little bench where the Boss once sat to get a stone out of her shoe, the pile of logs that the tree fellers have left at the side of the path – surely this is where the Boss parked? I am not certain because we have used the other car park of late. Oh dear, I am suddenly very confused.

There are no bluebells here.

The car park is full of cars. I don’t see the Boss’s anywhere. Which way did she go?

The Spaniel’s owner  grabs my collar and slips something over my head. I feel a little better but not much. Several people crowd round and shake their heads when asked if I belong to them.

Not to worry, the Boss will be here soon – I am sure of it…

Unbeknown to me, the Boss has walked all the way back to Wood End Car Park and asked a couple of ladies if they have seen me. The ladies take her mobile number and very kindly offer to walk a little way round again in search of me. The Boss is very grateful. All three set off in different directions. I of course, don’t see any of them. I am now hot and tired and firmly attached to someone else’s lead.

I don’t see the Boss beginning to panic or notice her growing more frantic by the minute. The lady I am now with is looking at my dog tag and she dials the number that is engraved on it. I hear her talking to someone. She seems very nice. She is telling someone that I am here in West Walk Car Park and I am safe. I decide to just sit here and wait with her. The Spaniel looks at me with something akin to pity.

Meanwhile, the Boss, who, as luck will have it, is already heading in my direction, albeit from some distance away, picks up a call from Alex (eldest son) who just  happened to be at home and happened to pick up the message from the Spaniel lady. He tells her the good news.

I can hear the Boss’s footsteps. I hear her before I see her. When I see her I am ecstatic. My exaggerated tail wagging  brings the Boss closer. We are reunited!  Goodness knows how far away she was but it has taken some time for her to appear, out of breath, relief written all over her face.

I don’t hear the Boss thanking the other lady or notice the Spaniel raising his eyebrows and shaking his had at my stupidity. I just see Ol’ Keano ambling up beside the Boss.

I am overcome with gratitude for being found. Keano seems unphased and continues to sniff and search the ground. The Boss ruffles my fur and clips my lead onto my collar.

“Been looking for her for three quarters of an hour,” she is saying to another couple of ladies who have come over to share in the good news. The Boss is clearly happy to have found me but not more happy than I am to be back with her and Ol’ Keans!

The Boss seems tired and out of breath – she reckons she’s just walked five miles round the woods searching for me. I am sceptical, more like three I’d say. Thankfully, she is spared the need to walk back to Wood End.

Alex turns up just then and kindly gives us all a lift back to the Wood End Car Park in his van.

This is much better. This car park is much more familiar and look – there is the Boss’s car!

I jump in and lie down on the familar blanket.

What an adventure!

Safe and sound – Flossie and Keano sticking together

P.S. Wednesday 27th: An uneventful trip to the woods in which the Boss keeps her eye on me and I am careful not to stray too far. We meet Ellie and even she tolerates my attempts at saying, “Hello,” more than usual. Everyone is very pleased to see that I have found the Boss and I am very careful not to follow any Spaniels today.

Flossie aged one year.

5 ways to use an ‘Elizabethan Collar’ (if you are a dog)

 

Flossie here.

I have been convalescing.

(An operation of the female kind left me with some fetching stitches)

Elizabethan Collar

For two weeks I have been sporting a rather ridiculous Cone on my head. The cone prevented me from licking the said stitches. This would have been a very bad thing apparently. I know this because every time I attempted it, the Boss intervened and the aptly named, Elizabethan Collar, was brought out.

At first, I admit, this unusual headgear worried me. It did not seem to mean that I was about to go out for a walk – unlike the Halti which goes over my nose and can be annoying but is worth putting up with for a short while. No, the cone was attached to my collar and engulfed my ears and head for no apparent purpose.

The Vet told me it was for my own good and the Boss concurred.

Now, you might think I would do all within my power to get rid of this unasked for appendage. Not so. Once I had grown used to it I found it had its uses. So, for all you canines out there who might at some point be obliged to wear such a contraption, here are a few ideas for its use:

 1.    Your cone as the perfect meal protector

Ok, at first it was a tad difficult. The bowl of food was placed before me. I moved in to dine. Head down – where was the bowl? I could see the bowl through the cone but I was the other side. I moved forward, so did the bowl. Ah, the Boss saw my dilemma and kindly popped the cone over the dish. There you have it! The perfect private eating place. No other dog could steal my food for as long as my dish was encased in its plastic igloo. Granted, it was a bit hot under there but I soon got the knack of coming up for air and positioning myself so that the cone popped over the dish of its own accord.

2.    Your cone as a shovel

Like many dogs I love to forage in the garden for roots and balls and anything tasty – the muddier the prize the better. At first I was not quite sure how I could conduct such an exploration whilst thus encumbered. Aha! No problem – once I had mastered the art of positioning my mouth just ahead of the desired object, it was a simple task to shovel it up with the cone, lodging it safely inside until needed. This exercise did result in a quantity of mud and grass being scooped up at the same time and caused the Boss to attack  me with a wet cloth, swooshing it round the cone at every opportunity. I can only liken this experience to that of being stuck in the drum of a washing machine as the clothes spin round.  A very strange experience!

3.    Your cone as a game enhancer 

This has to be my favourite. The Boss thoughtfully provided me with me some new toys, one of which was a medium sized ball. This was just large enough so that it would not lodge beneath the sofa. I was prepared to overlook this faux pas, even though one of my favourite games is to push a tennis ball as far under the sofa as I can and then demand that the Boss fetches it. Strangely, this seems to be something the Boss dislikes doing.

I have to say that I display some pretty fancy footwork when playing ball. I can hold a ball in my front paws, passing it through my legs and stopping it niftilywith my back paws. I can pass it back and forth in this way until finally, it spins across the floor of its own accord, nudged on by my nose and comes to rest beneath the sofa. The Boss thinks I should turn professional. Unable to use my nose, I soon learnt to use the cone instead. With the ball trapped within the mouth of the cone, I managed to achieve perfect control as I dribbled the ball to its final destination.

 4.     Your cone as a battering ram

There is nothing quite as useful as a plastic cone for making sure you get first dibs on anything. I mean, who is going to stand in your way when you run full pelt at them, tongue lolling, ears flapping against the cone, giving you the appearance of a Triceratops at full charge? It opened doors for me in more ways than one!

..and the difference is?

5.    Your cone as a sympathy gatherer

Visitors just love to make a fuss of you if you wear one of these contraptions. Yes, they laugh a little but then they ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ and allow you to lay your head (complete with cone) in their laps while they fondle your ears. It seems to give humans great pleasure to delve into the cone and grab your head. Almost as though you are laid out for them on a plate! Time to use those big-brown-eyes that seem magnified by their temporary incarceration, to gain the biggest sympathy vote ever.

A sympathy catcher!

The cone was removed at intervals and returned to me in pristine condition. I used these windows of opportunity to carry out my ablutions while the Boss supervised lest I nibble my stitches.

After a few interim trips to the Vet’s – it turns out that I am allergic to Cat-Gut (used for one layer of stitches) Cat-Gut? is it any wonder? – more anti-biotics were required – but the stitches were finally removed and so was the cone.

Hooray!

Walks have been somewhat boring for the past couple of weeks and how galling it has been to see Ol’ Keano trotting off on his own while I walk sedately at the Boss’s side on my lead. This week, I am pleased to report that things have returned to normal and normal woodland romps are back on the agenda.

Mind you, I must admit that I quite miss that Cone at times – it certainly did have its uses.

Flossie AKA Puptales

Aged One whole year

 

Purple is not my colour…

Flossie here.

Oh my goodness – I thought we had cracked The Common.

It would appear, from this morning’s experience that we have not.

I don’t know exactly what went wrong. I just know that a series of events occurred which ended in disaster.

For one thing, there was a small Skye Terrier who took a shine to me. As soon as we got on The Common, the little dog spotted me. I had to run over and say ‘hello’ of course.

The little dog’s owner, clad in a purple coat, seemed very friendly and extended her hand to me. Her companion, wearing grey, ignored me. Perhaps the purple lady had a titbit in her hand? I reached up to check, my front paws only slightly off the ground when I heard the Boss’s sharp reprimand. I settled back on the ground immediately and waited. I hadn’t been going to jump for goodness sake but I think the Boss thought the lady might think otherwise. The purple coated lady went back to her conversation with the lady in grey.

I lost interest and ambled off up the embankment where I met a rather friendly Red Setter. Red and I set off at a fare pace.

Tongues lolling, tails wagging – both pleased to have found a playmate, we chased around for a bit. Ol’ Keano was somewhere behind me, sniffing and pottering as he does.

At this point, Red’s owner appeared and waved a good morning to The Boss. He seemed a nice man. It was just then that the little Skye Terrier ran up to us and begged us to chase her. I didn’t need a second telling nor did the Red. The three of us tore off across The Common.

What a treat to feel the wind and rain in my coat and the rain-sodden ground splash up beneath my paws. I may have rather short stocky legs but I can fly when I want to.

Now you come to mention it, I do recall hearing the Boss call me and I fully intended to return at any second. I could hear Red’s owner whistling and calling him too.  Well, we’d just finish the circuit and head back, no harm done.

Wrong!

It all happened very quickly after that. The little Skye Terrier seemed not to know where she was heading. The purple lady started yelling.

“Millie! Millie!” she screeched, her panic ridden voice echoing across The Common. Millie ignored her.

The purple coated lady began running – the Boss wouldn’t think this a wise move given that The Common was slippery and wet. The Boss wouldn’t risk running, I knew.

On we ran until both Red and I deemed it prudent to run back to our respective owners. The little Skye Terrier continued to run towards the perimeter fence. As one, Red and I turned and headed back to camp. I could see the Boss, resplendent in her cerise pink rain jacket, waving at me. The Red Setter could see his owner too. We picked up speed.

I don’t know quite when the purple apparition flashed across our path but suddenly I was forced to swerve. Despite the slippery ground underfoot, I managed to come to a halt quite  quickly without ever making contact. Not so, the purple apparition who continued to slip and slide until she gracefully sank to the floor in front of me. I stared at her, bemused for a moment. Red stared at her. What was the woman doing?

I felt rather than heard the Boss’s groan as she started towards us.

She was within an arm’s reach of my collar so I obligingly sat and allowed my lead to be put on. The purple coated woman had leapt to her feet, thankfully unharmed, waving her arms in the air and shouting at both the Boss and Red’s owner. Red appeared to find this behaviour confusing and made an attempt to jump at her – to calm her down I think. I on the other hand, have been taught to ignore such behaviour.

The Boss opened her mouth to enquire after the purple woman’s well being.

“Get your bloody dogs away!” shrieked the purple woman and aimed a few more choice words at us before marching off to where the Skye Terrier now stood sniffing by the fence.

The Boss seemed to hesitate. The purple coated woman glowered over at us one more time. The Boss decided retreat to be the best option. Red joined his owner and he and the Boss swapped rueful glances.

“I don’t think that lady was very happy…” the Boss said.

“No, no I got that impression. My dog doesn’t normally jump…or run off like that,” the man agreed shaking his head.

“Mine doesn’t jump up any more,” said the Boss, truthfully I might add (my one to one training has paid dividends). She didn’t mention the running.

We parted company, Red and I, him still leash-free.

The Boss kept me firmly attached for the rest of the walk. I don’t think she was quite sure whose fault the tumble had been and was definitely not taking any chances.

I fancy we will be going to the woods tomorrow then.

I much prefer the woods

I never have been keen on ‘the colour purple’.

Flossie aged 11 months (from the doghouse)

Goodbye to Moody Pants, *Welsh Woman and all!

It’s official. The common is not big enough for me apparently.

Now where the Boss got that idea from I do not know but ever since the second meeting with the Welsh Woman (she didn’t tell you about that did she?) and the run-in with the two Moody Ladies (nor that either?) not forgetting the fright of the Old Lady with the walking stick… she has been reluctant to re-visit that green and pleasant pasture.

Let me elaborate.

Some folk are very odd. I had hardly got onto the common and been let of my lead when I spotted a small springer spaniel running around ahead of me. Naturally, I ran off to say hello. I did the proper thing, crouching low as I approached so that the fellow would know I posed no threat. He was game for it – ran up and sniffed me, made friends and off we went. Behind him I caught site of a large white dog. One should always be wary of larger dogs, especially white ones, so I have been told. I again did the proper thing and lay down to show how friendly I am. I didn’t even approach him. I just waited and he came racing up to me looking slightly moody.

I admit that I was a little worried. He gave me a cursory sniff and then growled. Well, goodness knows what might have happened had my knight in shining armour not rushed in just then. Yes, Ol’ Keano trotted up with that,

“’Ello ello ello, what’s going on here then?” look on his face. You know the sort of thing, head held high, ears practically vertical.

As he neared the white dog he slowed down a tad. I just lay there holding my breath. Ol’ Keano sensed trouble and with a subtle step forward, barked in the dog’s face. The big white dog took a step back and then turned and ran.

Thanks Keano!

“Not sure exactly what went on there,” said the Boss to a nice man who happened to be walking nearby with his own dog.

“Well, that white dog looked very moody as he came towards us,” he commented. His own dog was a wiry little collie who was happy to run around for a bit. So we did just that and all was going very well until the collie ran too far and I followed and the boss caught sight of the lady with the walking stick.

The lady with the walking stick saw me coming and stood very still, balancing herself. She needn’t have worried, I wasn’t aiming for her though I concede that it may have looked that way to the Boss who was frantically calling me back. I intended going back, don’t worry but just then another dog joined in the chase and the three of us tore around a bit like you do. That’s when the two moody women appeared.

The Boss reckoned they were out of order. All I heard was them saying,

“You need to be careful of that lady with the stick, she looks very frail,” The Boss looked as though she wanted to say,

“Duh! What do you think I am doing, setting my dog on her?”

Instead she smiled and replied,

“Yes.”

I’ve not often seen the Boss grit her teeth.

At this point I had run back to the Boss for one of those tasty treats she keeps in her pocket. This is something I have learnt. If you run off for long enough, the Boss will panic and call you back for a treat. I have trained her well and can guarantee a treat within three minutes of being called if I don’t respond first time. Keano doesn’t even have to run off. He just stays by her side until I do something that merits that bag being pulled out of her pocket and then closes in so that he is to hand as the titbit is meted out.

As the moody ladies walked on, the big white dog claimed one of them as his owner. (It figures).

The lady with the walking stick made it to the nearest bench and sat down with her little dog. We carried on ambling around the common.

The thing with the common is that people don’t always follow the expected route. Sometimes they walk a figure of eight, weaving in and out of the trees and emerging when you least expect them. Thus it was with the moody ladies who emerged from a clump of bushes as we approached.

I was already running towards them at the time. Well, not towards them. I hadn’t even seen them when I started running you understand. I was running  towards something interesting which happened to be right behind them. They didn’t know this of course and for some unknown reason, supposed I was about to leap on them and wrestle them to the ground. Looking moodier by the minute, they threw furious glances at the Boss and called their dogs to them protectively as I raced past them to the source of my interest. Well, it had gone by then but I had seen something moving there, honestly.

The Boss raised an eyebrow, I know what that means. She is no mood for any nonsense. We turned tail and headed for the exit. Oh lordie, wouldn’t you know it? Our departure was intercepted by – The Welsh Woman.

“Oooh,” she quivered as I lolloped past. The Boss was not taking any prisoners today.

“Morning!” she said brightly and continued walking.

“Oooh, I get so worried you know when she runs up like that. A lady I know has still got pins in her legs…” (yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ve been here before).

The Boss made a suitably sorrowful noise and still walking, remarked,

“Don’t worry, Flossie doesn’t jump up these days. She’s learning.  She is very good for a six month old. They remain puppies until they are about two of course.”

I felt quite proud of myself.

The Welsh Woman quivered a little more and raised her hand as I wandered by as though to ward me off. I was at least three metres from her and had no interest in her at all. In fact I was with the Boss all the way on this one. We walked quickly on.

Unfortunately, I did the most terrible thing just after this.

We were within sight of the exit and the Boss called me to have my lead put on. I knew I should run back but I had caught sight of the lady with the walking stick and her little dog walking towards the gate. I just wanted to say “Cheerio!”

“Flossie – wait!” yelled the Boss.

The wind was against her and her words didn’t travel far but I have to admit, I did hear them. It’s just that I couldn’t stop myself you see. I knew that the lady with the walking stick would want to say goodbye.

I heard later that the last the Boss saw of me and the lady with the walking stick, was her walking out of sight around the shrubbery to the gate and me following, at breakneck speed, behind her. Next thing, I am coming back.

No problem really – no fuss required – lady with walking stick gone – me back safely. I wondered if I deserved a treat. Keano threw me a look that said,

“You have to be joking!”

The Boss gripped my collar and practically throttled me as she clipped the lead on.

“That poor woman!” I heard her telling the Dave man later, “She just disappeared. I could just imagine Flossie leaping at her and knocking her flying. For all I knew, when Flossie came running back, the lady with the stick was lying in the shrubbery!”

Now hang on a minute, notice any flaws here? First she tells the Welsh Woman that I wont jump, then she tells herself that I’d knock a poor old lady over and leave her lying there. I can tell you what happened if you are interested. I reached the lady with the stick and she shooed me away, going through the gate and leaving me standing there like a lemon. Well, she’d gone so I thought I’d better head back. Last I saw, she was walking to her car with her little dog and her stick.

“Well, I’m not going there again for a while, it’s too nerve-racking! Welsh Women I can handle but the thought of a frail old lady being mown down is too much,” the Boss decides.

True to her word we have not been back. Our daily walks now take us to the woods. This is actually far better. Take today’s excursion for instance.

Keano and I could run as fast as we wanted as long as we came back when called. Keano didn’t do much running of course. He is more of a wander-along-and-sniff type dog and he isn’t fussed about the water either. Imagine that! There is a lot of water in the woods at this time of year. All the brooks and streams are full. We met a lot of very friendly dogs and a lot of very friendly people so the Boss said it wasn’t a trial at all. I even came back when called, most of the time. The Boss thanked the people who stopped while she gathered me up and those who caught my collar for her. It was a whole new experience.

All this water - just for me!

Plenty of room for all!

Best of all, there were lots of dogs running through the trees, playing around and no one looking at us disapprovingly. The Boss told the Dave man that it was well worth the inconvenience of having a very wet and very muddy dog in her car that she had to hose down once we were home, just for the pleasure of enjoying a walk without bumping into Moody Pants Ladies, Welsh Woman or nice but frail Old Ladies with walking sticks. I have to agree with her.

The wood it is from now on!

Flossie aged 6 3/4 months a.k.a. Puptales

*The Welsh are lovely – this Lady is just annoying…

Flossie, THE JUICER and some ‘uncommon’ friends

See How I've grown!

The day started like so many other days as far as I was aware. The family began to emerge from those places where they spend their sleeping times, one by one. The Dave man arrived first. He made a fuss of me (always nice) and a fuss of Keano (essential or that chap may sulk for hours!) before going to the cupboard.

I like it when the humans ‘go to the cupboard’. Any cupboard will do, if it is in the kitchen. The thing is, you can always guarantee to get a tasty morsel to eat when there is a cupboard involved.

This morning, I crept close to the Dave man’s side and waited for something tasty to appear. The cupboard door opened. The Dave man reached inside. He pulled out a strange looking contraption – oh no, NOT THE JUICER!

I retreated to my bed and waited. All was fine at first. The Dave man set THE JUICER on the counter top and began chopping up fruit which he pushed into it. I had slithered to the furthest corner of my bed and was mentally calculating how long it would take me to reach the doorway when I saw that the stair gate had been fixed there and was shut. I was trapped. Help!

The Dave man’s finger was on the button, the button went down. THE JUICER SCREAMED. THE JUICER ROARED. I looked at the stair gate, I didn’t have time to think. As THE JUICER exploded into life I was already a hop, skip and a jump away from the gate and with all the agility of a racehorse, I lifted my body up, up and over the gate and high tailed it through the house and up the stairs. I flew over Keano’s inert form at the top, along the landing and into the nearest bedroom which happened to be Zoe’s, landing in a trembling heap on her bed. (I don’t think she noticed).

Well, it took all the Boss’s efforts to calm me down, though breakfast helped, I have to admit.

I am particularly proud of my athleticism since the stair gate is atop a step and not fixed at floor level. Alas, only the Dave man saw and he only glimpsed my fast disappearing tail when he looked up from THE JUICER.

I suppose every pup has its own nightmare and THE JUICER, it appears is mine. THE VACCUUM CLEANER only comes a poor second to this terrible device.

Perhaps I am still a little highly strung when the Boss puts both Keano and me in the car and drives us to the common for our morning ‘run’. I blame the Boss really though, for what happens next. The boss likes to secure me to the rear car seat as we drive (not sure why, as I wouldn’t dream of leaping through to the front seat, not unless she has THE JUICER nearby.) So, we stop in the lay-by next to the Common. The Boss gets out of the car and opens the door, still fiddling with keys, a plastic bag in which she keeps treats for us dogs and her glasses.

“Wait there,” the Boss mutters, but I think I must have misheard because I jump out of the car, still attached as it were. The lead is a little taut I must say. I can hear the Boss grumbling as she fights to disentangle the knot she tied earlier. I have to help. I back away, squeezing my shoulders in, under the car door so that poor Boss cannot do anything but watch as I slip out of my harness and make a break for freedom for the second time today. To my left is a small dog being stowed away in another car. To my right is the swing gate to the common. A couple of other canines have just run through it. Ignoring the Boss’s shout to ‘wait’, (I can see she is struggling, Ol’ Keano is still on the floor of the car behaving like a ‘grownup’ and the Boss’s sunglasses have slipped off their perch on her head and are hanging, crookedly, half way down her face.) She’ll be a while yet. I suppose, she may be mildly concerned that I might run into the traffic that is rumbling by but really, she should know, that a dog who runs from THE JUICER is not going to go anywhere near TRAFFIC.

I think she lets me go in the end rather than chase after me and I shoot through the gate and onto the field beyond. Not sure why they call this field, “The common”, very few ‘common’ types frequent it. Today for instance there is a very posh poodle, a well groomed sheep dog and a Great Dane awaiting me.

Maybe, I should have waited for the Boss. Nothing for it now, but to lie down, submissively and let those bigger guys check me over. I can hear them talking amongst themselves as they walk round me and sniff and prod,

“oh, a puppy I do believe,” the Poodle observes in posh, poodle tones,

“no manners, bursting onto the common like this…without an owner!” grumbles the Great Dane.

“Round her up! Round her up!” chips in the Collie, excited at the prospect of a stray he can bring into line. Thank goodness, the Boss appears on the horizon just then. Her glasses strategically placed on her nose and Keano at her heels, she carries my blue harness and lead and is waving them at me as she approaches. Now, does she expect me to run towards her with these great brutes only a whisker away? I stay put.

The Great Dane’s Boss beckons him away and he goes, surprisingly meek for such a big bloke. The Poodle sees the Boss advancing and throws me a disparaging glance before trotting off to rejoin her owner. The Collie continues to bark,

“Round her up! Round her up!” His lady owner arrives at the scene at the same time as The Boss.

“He loves to bark!” smiles the former, needlessly, as she hauls him away.

I let myself be refitted with the harness and lead and walk sedately by the Boss until we are out of range of the ‘A Team’. Keano has gone off on the trail of something, probably a rabbit, but I don’t want to follow just yet.

By the time the Boss sees fit to release me again, I have all but recovered from my exciting morning and race around with Keano, quite happily, until I spot something moving on the other side of the common – a little white dog – I begin to run, the Boss calls. I turn, I look at the Boss, I look back at the little white speck in the distance – The Boss raises her hand and lowers it swiftly,

“Here!” she orders. I need no second telling. I know what that raised hand means. I pelt back to The Boss and sit meekly by her feet waiting, as she fishes into the bag for a treat. Keano gets one too, just for being…well, Keano. I barely notice as she slips the lead back onto my harness. I walk sedately back to the car, climb in without a fuss and lie here, panting gently. I don’t move, not when she stops to post a letter and pops into the supermarket for milk, and not when she drives into ‘Scats’ to buy an extremely large sack of puppy food which she heaves into the boot with some difficulty. I remain quiet and still throughout.

Well, I have decided she needs a break.

Flossie A.K.A. Puptales aged 4 days short of 5 months

Paddy Power

The above photographs are of a particularly fine looking Spanador (Labrador/Spaniel) called Paddy. Apparently, had things turned out differently, I may never have found my home here. What a sobering thought!  This then is the story of Paddy…

Some time before my existence was known about, by either the Boss or any of her fast expanding family, the Boss took in a young stray. This young stray, apparently found lost and alone, close to the Boss’s office, caused her colleagues to drool and coo over him. To cut a shaggy dog story short, he spent a couple of weeks at the Dog Warden’s Quarters, during which time he remained unclaimed. Hearing this, the Boss was persuaded, against her better judgement, to give him a home and shelve plans to look for a cute, cuddly, golden puppy, like me for the time being.

 By all accounts, this dog, who arrived on St Patrick’s day and was duly christened ‘Paddy’, charmed the whiskers off all but Keano. For the greater part of his first day, he was the epitome of doggy niceness. The Boss began to think he might actually fit in and even Keano enjoyed racing round the garden with him and having a rough and tumble to boot. A slight concern was raised when Paddy growled menacingly at dinner time, guarding his dish by barking continually as he ate. The Boss had been warned of this behaviour and was sure it would get better once Paddy was settled.

If the Boss had harboured any doubts, they were swept away the next morning when Paddy, who liked to follow his nose, followed his nose out of the gate and managed to get himself lost. The Boss was beside herself. After all, she’d only agreed to look after the poor little fellow yesterday and now she’d lost him. Fortunately, Paddy was found by a kindly neighbour and taken to the local Vet, which happened to be the very Vet that the Boss always takes her four legged friends to. Hence, the Boss and Paddy were reunited and, as they were both at the Vet’s, Paddy received his vaccinations and was ‘chipped’ all in one go. The Boss was relieved to have found him, even though she was relieved of quite a bit of cash to boot. Home the pair came where everybody made him welcome a second time.

Then, it happened. Dinner time! Suddenly, this black, silky, long bodied, big headed charmer turned into the Devil incarnate. Keano stared in amazement as Paddy’s dish hit the floor. All pretence at niceness vanished as Paddy growled and barked menacingly, through every mouthful. The Boss decided to feed Keano separately (good move). From this moment on, Paddy proved himself to be affable and cute during the day but bad tempered and downright scary during the evening. His behaviour was tolerated for several days, partly because of his earlier disappearance and partly because the Boss had engaged an animal behaviourist to come and see him the following week. It was not long before the Boss and the family began to notice how Keano preferred to hide behind the sofa when Paddy entered a room and how Paddy tended to guard everything, especially the Dave man who everyone knows belongs to Ol’ Keans! “Something isn’t quite right… he needs some training,” Keano heard them agree. Then it was all charm and tail wags for the next day. If anyone could break your heart with a plea for a cuddle it was Paddy. Keano was not fooled. Clearly something had to be done!

Sadly, two things had to happen to make the family realise that this was no place for the Jekyll and Hyde of dogs. The first came one evening when Keano was minding his wn business, waiting for the Dave man to finish carving the family’s joint and keeping a very low profile, all things considered. Paddy appeared from nowhere, lunged at Keano, snarling and snapping. Too late, the Zoe human realised she was in the way and as the two dogs snapped and snarled around her legs, Keano trying to avoid Zoe of course, she was forced to leap up onto the work surface, legs dangling dangerously. Paddy ignored her presence completely and with a final and, dare I say, extremely painful lunge, sank his teeth into Keano’s chest and ripped out a chunk of hair leaving a bald patch to rival Kojack. Now, if you have ever heard a grown dog cry, you will be able to imagine how much that hurt. Mind you, Keano says that once the initial shock was over, it was almost worth it to have all those humans fussing over him and to see Paddy banished to the garden while they discussed whether to buy him a gold medallion or a fur patch to cover the bald spot. I must say, I would have favoured the gold medallion myself. Neither were forthcoming it seems.

The second incident occurred the following evening when the Boss was telling the Dave man that she thought we would need to part with Paddy, however sad it made her (The Boss has a soft spot reserved just for us canines). The Dave man was unsure and to be honest, Paddy had been so well behaved all day, wrapping his silky limbs round the Boss’s neck and dropping toy after toy into her lap wagging his tail madly, I can hardly blame the Dave man’s indecision. Even Keano found himself playing with him despite his recent injury. Then, in walked one of the Boss’s daughters. This particular little human left us some time ago apparently, and pops in from time to time as humans seem to do. Keano was particularly pleased to see her and made sure he made the most of his newly acquired status of ‘long suffering, wonderful dog’, showing off his bald patch shamelessly and enjoying the ensuing noises of shock and accompanying cuddles that came his way. No one but Keano noticed how the four legged newcomer’s expression changed when he noticed this new human. The Boss’s daughter bent to fondle the devil dog’s head whereupon, his head snapped back and he sank his teeth into her hand, drawing blood! Never, in his life had Keano been so dumbfounded. I mean to say, we all know that a dog may snarl and growl if his bone is about to be removed but to bite the hand that feeds you as it were? That is a definite ‘no no’. To make matters worse, later that evening Paddy bit the Dave man too.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Keano endured one more night sharing the kitchen with Paddy – who was strangely subdued once the lights went out. The very next day, the Boss tearfully said ‘goodbye,’ as Paddy was led off in disgrace to Doggy Borstal with the promise of a new home awaiting him after re-training.

Thus ends the story of Paddy – but not quite. Some amazing news reached us recently when the Boss and her cohorts enquired after his welfare. It seems Paddy responded so well to initial training, that he was picked for an advanced course and is now training to be a sniffer dog. Our Paddy will be working at the London Olympics, under the assumed name of ‘Sammy’, sniffing out drugs and explosives in 2012. Well, who would have thought it? Here’s to Paddy Power!

Flossie (4 months and 3 weeks) A.K.A Puptales

Flossie – Growing Pains

 

 Goodness, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror the other day and who is this large, fluffy dog standing staring at me? Surely I cannot have grown this much?

 

The windswept look is so very 'now' - Photo courtesy of Rhys McCarthy

Parks, fields, woods and now the beach. I have been to them all. This rather fetching photograph of me was taken on a recent walk to a local beach and, though I say so myself, I do think it makes me look cute. The windswept look is so very ‘now’.

I have also expanded my group of four legged friends since last we spoke. To date I have met a grand old lady called Daffodil, a border collie, who paid me little heed as she wandered round my garden and investigated the flower beds, A  grand old man called Bailey who tells me he has been poorly but seemed to take a liking to many of my toys and more than a passing fancy to some of the Barbeque food, and a tiny little cheeky chappie called Milo, who looks all of eight weeks but claims to be two years old. Confusion reigns here, his name is Milo but I have clearly heard him referred to as, “that Jack Russell”. Finally, there was Sophie, a bit of an enigma Sophie, quite timid by all accounts, but friendly enough, oh and numerous versions of me of course. At least, I assume they are versions of me, they look vaguely like my mother and make the Boss exclaim loudly whenever she spots one.

“That’ll be you Flossie,” she can be heard to say as a grand old Golden Retriever chances by. Scary thought – I quite like being little enough to crawl under the Boss’s chair or climb onto someone’s lap. A horrible truth occurred to me this week though, I am growing – fast!

This realisation came to me as I tried to join Old Keano under the coffee table. It has always been his favourite haunt so, naturally, yours truly likes to join him for a bit of harmless play fighting. Oh what fun we have had under there, rolling about and biting each other’s ears, nibbling necks and the like. Unfortunately, when I tried to wedge myself in with him earlier this week, I seemed to have grown to such proportions that I could no longer get the whole of me under the table in one go. Clambering onto Keano’s back meant that my head had to remain on the floor and my feet somewhere outside. There was simply no room to move. The table moved though, much to the boss’s horror, with mugs of tea and an assorted array of nibbles wobbling dangerously on top. I now know what it would feel like to be a tortoise.

Of course, there are advantages to my new, plus size figure. I can now reach things that I once could not, thus my trips upstairs continue to be ever more fruitful. The Boss and the other humans are trying to retain their sense of humour as they retrieve the various undergarments, stolen from their bedrooms, which I like to leave in the middle of the living room floor. I have also found I can reach those tasty towels and sheets that are hung on the whirligig thing in the garden, though have been thwarted more than once by a stern word from the Boss.  The Zoe human was slightly distressed to find that I had carefully chewed the edge of one of her new flip-flops, placed on a shelf she had thought to be ‘out of reach’  but I have a special, doleful look, reserved for just such an occasion, which melts the hardest of hearts.  I can run almost as fast and for almost as long, as Keano and, if I put my mind to it, I can be on the sofa in one bound. This last is not to be recommended if a human is already sitting there. This scenario generally results in me being deposited back on the floor with an indignant reproof before I have even had time to blink.

On reflection, maybe growing bigger wont be quite as bad as I thought.  I should probably keep some of my new found abilities to myself for now though. Something tells me, once those humans know exactly how high I can jump, they are bound to place obstacles in my way…

Until next time,

Flossie 16.5 weeks A.K.A Puptales

Works of Art, Tooth Fairies and Fluffy Ducks

The Boss has been talking about me all week. It seems I possess hidden talents. Well, if that is what the Boss thinks, who am I to argue?

It started with a new game I have made up. The idea is to rush up the stairs to my favourite bedroom, belonging to the young human they call ‘Zoe’, and find something interesting. I manage this with ease most mornings though am always a little put out when Zoe spots me before I can make my getaway as she almost always removes my find and sends me packing.

Assuming my mission has been successful and I have found something interesting, I must get down the stairs with it as fast as I can and place it somewhere safe before racing back up the stairs to repeat the exercise. I hadn’t realised anyone else was interested in this little game, until the other day when the Zoe human was distracted and I managed four trips up and down the stairs without being caught.

I was about to embark on my fifth trip when I heard a commotion from the living room. There was the Zoe human with the thing she takes photographs with, aiming it right at my pile of ‘treasures’. I just sat there watching as she went on about what a clever dog I am (that’s a first, being told I am clever for stealing things).

It appears that the Boss and the Zoe human were not particularly impressed with my agility at negotiating the once impossible stairs, nor with the way in which I had carried each object down without being spotted. No, they were waxing lyrical about the way I had laid out the objects. It was puzzling to me. I had simple brought each item down and laid it on the carpet. Now, here they were, saying that my ‘work of art’ should be hung in the Tate! I haven’t a clue what ‘The Tate’ is and can’t begin to imagine why anyone would want to hang a pile of chewables up, but, there you go, humans are very strange creatures.

Folder, Fluffy slipper. tasty sock and a rubber glove

I think I shall call it, ‘Chewables in Pastels’

Sadly, having praised my artistic abilities until I almost blushed, the Boss then removed all the objects before I could get so much as a nibble.

Mind you, I think my nibbling days may be almost over.  Is there a tooth fairy for dogs? If there is I need one – fast!

It started with a good old tug of war game with Ol’ Keano. You know the kind of thing, he picks up a fluffy toy, I pick up the other end and we tug, tug, tug until one of us caves in.

We have tried running down the garden thus co-joined before now and though I must look an odd sight, ears flapping and legs getting in a tangle trying to keep up, it is extremely invigorating.

Anyway, there we were, tugging away for all we were worth when I felt something wobble in my mouth. It continued to wobble through three games of rough and tumble and a bout of wrestling with a plant pot. (Apt to get stuck on one’s nose, plant pots, but still highly recommended).

Finally, just as I was about to bite into a particularly succulent piece of leather, (oops, think that was someone’s shoe) one of my razor sharp front teeth fell out! I wasn’t particularly perturbed by one tooth falling out, but the thought of losing them all is a little unnerving. I lost another today and I’ve never seen a toothless dog.

I did think that maybe I’d stop chewing and playing tug of war but where’s the fun in that? I may as well make the most of the teeth I have left while there is still time. When the last tooth abandons ship, I can always take up art.

Ok Keano - bring on the fluffy duck!

So, come on Keano, bring on the fluffy duck!

Flossie aged 14.5 weeks

A.K.A Puptales