Spring is Springing

Puppy on a shelf

Puppy on a shelf

Or whatever spring does when you are not looking.

Its that time of year when I get dragged up to the allotment on a daily basis. Actually, I don’t always mind as long as I don’ get abandoned in the shed, though I do have my own place. I need to sort it out a bit this year I think. It does have a rug for me to sit on, but it is not padded or anything sensible, and it is lacking in toys, auto-feed snacks and so on.  It is also right next to the petrol can, so that has definitely got to go!

Well, it smells.

Checking the Grass

Checking the Grass

On the allotment front, the Big Dog has already done the major digging which is good because that bores me stupid. Plus he always gets achy and complainy about it, which bores me even more. Then he goes and makes a racket with that digging machine of his.

I do have my own duties, of course, which I take very seriously. Checking the length of the grass when the sun comes out is very important. It is not a big lawn, but it is all mine. I do this with my tummy which is very sensitive to such things like blade length and tickleness….

Dog on patrol

Dog on patrol

I am quite territorial about the allotment these days; I really think of it as a home extension (albeit one without some of the luxuries that a young pup rightfully expects) and I patrol it vigorously.  Okay, so I have yet to see any squirrels, but we do get some particularly aggressive snails and those huge orange slugs and some of the leaves can really sneak up on you.

And then there is the cat.

Oh yes, that little pesky furry-handbag-in-the-making has a soft spot for some of the allotment’s soft spots and particularly likes digging holes in freshly composted raised beds. And if the odd row of carrots gets dug up, well, that is just karma, right? Wrong, buddy, and if every I get off the end of this rope, I will give you a right old karma that you will never forget!

Sometimes you just got to tell them


Listen up dear!


Look, I may be small, but that does not mean I do not get my own way!

Now, first we go for a walk (and you WILL need some of those bag things) and I want to be able to paddle in the floods, so be prepared for mud on the carpet.

After that, I want my dinner warmed up to room temperature and see if you can get the Big Dog to rattle up some home made gravy, capiche?

Once that has been gobbled up, I want to loiter around the dinner table, so make sure you accidentally drop lots of scraps, and then I want to rub off the dried dirt on the throw over the sofa while I watch some telly.

After that? Oh, I will let you know!

See, easy, aint it?


I really miss people when they are not here



I am sorry, I just can’t help it!

When people leave the house without me I start pining! Its like my little world has shrunken to nothing more than an empty walnut shell – all hard edged and hollow.

Okay, so I tend to forget that there are loads of other people still here, maybe sitting just behind me with those wretched camera-attached-to-phone thingies.

But my heart just thumps with loss and abandonment and abject loneliness and, and, and …… is that a biscuit you got there?

Sneaking a Peak at my Christmas Presents


You know how it is, you wander into the bedroom all innocent like, following the trail of one of your balls and suddenly someone is desperately trying to cover something up and pretend they were not doing something you were not meant to see.

Well, what is a puppy to do? I know the smell of fresh, unmawled, unchewed and still functioning squeaky green balls when I smell ‘em, even when they are hidden in a plastic bag. And what is this green monkey thing? Is that for me too?

Come on, you can’t fool me – the others are way too old for this stuff, it MUST be for me!

What do you mean, I have to go to my bed? Downstairs?

Spoil sport.

Now that is what I call ambitious!


Wott a Mix Up

Well, it seems that the rather brave Westie lad in the middle (Joey), erm, got frisky with Zara, the young lady Rottweiler on the right.

This was not a chance encounter, I should point out, they both live in the same home, but I have to say, that Westie has more gumption than many I have met!

And the result? Well, same as ever – a pile of pups which have been dubbed Wotties.  Those are going to be interesting little beasties – Rottweiler teeth with a Westie attitude? Good luck to the owners who adopt any of those!

The only thing I will say is that I am just glad they weren’t Resties  - and you can work the rest of that out for yourself!

More pictures in that rather yukky Daily Mail (or paw wipes as I think of it)



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