Friday, 10 May 2013

Quiet time

With my muses sprawled out across me, emitting unearthly noises from the front end, ungodly smells from the back end and leaving just one of my limbs free to stab the keyboard, inspiration is not forthcoming this evening.  Their lethargy is contagious it seems.

As much as the tearing around the park is thrilling to watch and their tricks are delighting, it is these quiet times that are truly magical though.  Most often when the terrible twosome have worn themselves out entirely they will retreat to their beds and let slumber encompass them completely, unabated by the nuisance that is me, stroking, petting, cuddling and squishing their adorable little faces.

However, Barry seems to know when a cuddle is required to make the world right again.  On nights like tonight he will lay with me and let me rub his chin, tickle his grubby paws and fondle his sumptuously silky ears.  He lets me love him.  He oozes contentment which seems to infiltrate through the pores on my fingers until I once again understand that nothing is as important as a belly rub.

Having ears so soft that they make this sometimes dark and often difficult life seem manageable once more... that seems pretty great to me.

Friday, 3 May 2013

Who would have thought..


Just one week in and I already have news of greatness!

It was a usual mid-week, early morning walk.  Perhaps slightly unusually the sun was shining and everyone was feeling chipper.  The blossom had finally arrived, tantilising us with the hope of spring and seemingly closing the dark winter chapter, hopefully for good.  Barry, Gerty and I had already met up with Mahi and Albous, who you'll no doubt come to know and love if you choose to continue to follow the antics of Barry the Wonder Dog.

We had ambled up and over the hill without incident.  Strode through the field and the still muddy puddles with little excitement and were generally having a merry time.  Upon entering the woods we happened across the lovely lab who must remain nameless because neither can I remember her name nor make up one that does her justice.  She has just given birth to a happy and healthy litter of pups and although being a marvellous mother and delightful dog, no one and nothing would be cherished more than her ball.

We know this dog well and so I remain relaxed as I have been assured that she never releases her ball for anyone or thing other than her master.  However somehow, amongst the melee of butt sniffing that occurs with every doggy meeting, no matter how many times they have met before, her dedication slipped.  I spotted the unattended, unprotected ball at the same time as Barry and my shoulders tensed.  Barry and I look from the ball to one another and in a mere matter of seconds he struck.

Like a viper he struck, like a nimble predator he plucked the ball from the ground with his floppy chops and my face fell.  My heart sank.  There we were again.  That lonely, shameful place.  Oh, how I loathed being the owner of a chronic, relentless and shameless ball thief.  The hours (ok, minutes but it feels like long, excruciating hours to me) I have spent chasing him, ignoring him, berating him, coaxing him to give up his stolen fruit all under the watchful eye of the perfect (boring) dog owners, tutting, glaring and oozing dissatisfaction at my inferior dog ownership skills.

However after 18 months of shame and misery I had had enough.  As Barry pranced around evading all attempts to retrieve his stolen prize I made a decision.  I was taking this no more.  I rolled back my shoulders and stood proud.  I planted my feet and filled my lungs before releasing a guttural cry 'Barry!  Drop it!'.

He didn't.  He did however stop dead and look at me with sorrowful eyes. He let me take the ball from his grasp and return it to its rightful owner.

My fellow dog walkers actually cheered! I fist-pumped! I felt a sense of empowerment I have not felt since I passed my driving test and realised freedom loomed near. Shortly followed by a burst of pride that I have never felt before. My Barry, my wayward hound had finally dropped a stolen ball at my request. As I hurriedly rewarded Barry for his magnificent behaviour with a delicious cheesy bite, Mahi's owner, Sangeeta, cheekily told me that I too deserved a treat. I took no offence and thoroughly agree which I why I'm enjoying a Southern Comfort and lemonade as I regale you my story. 

Now I know some of you may be thinking that this is a mind-bogglingly over dramatic account of a very minor incident. You are probably right, as most dogs manage this simple task within weeks of coming home. However, to me, this is greatness emerging.

Friday, 26 April 2013

Where to start? How to start?

I have no idea where or how to start and to be honest I just don't have the inclination to trawl through everyone's blogs back to the beginning to see how they started either. So here goes... Let's do it! 

Barry and Gertrude (or Gerty to her friends) are my two somewhat delightful and often delinquent dogs. They are Boston Terriers to be precise. Barry is nearly a year and a half and Gertrude about five months old.

Now I know they don't sound too amazing just yet and really, they're not. They're not particularly well trained and certainly won't be winning prizes at Crufts any time soon. Nor are they desperately and hopelessly badly behaved in a 'Marley and Me' sort of way. They are just your average canines but with slightly more squashed up faces. However their joie de vivre both invigorates and ages me simultaneously. To me they are amazing. They have taught me new things, made me new friends and revolutionised my life in just 18 months and now I want to make a record of some of their antics.

For now, I must wait as Barry just snores gently from across the couch and Gerty farts loudly beside me but I know that greatness lies within them and I will tell the world when it arises... I'll try not to bother you on the occasions it just turns out to be gas though.