I’m 13 weeks old now (plus two days - those make a difference of course). I’ve had my jabs, I’m allowed to walk, and go on nice long walks. And then there’s the training. Early on Saturday mornings, when the rest of the world has the sense to sleep in, my Pack-Family bundle me into the car, and drive for 40 minutes to then spend another 40 or so in a concrete hall, where somebody with red hair talks a lot to them, and I get to run around and do a bit of practice of what I can do already. Last week, I was the star of the class, as I could “stay” the longest. Actually, I was tired by then, but won’t admit it. I also badly needed a wee.
Class is fun, fun, fun! There are lots of hyper dogs there, most of them much smaller than me. I’ve stood on a miniature poodle before, without knowing it. He’s a little timid, though. We have a mat to sit on, and some A-grade treats - most of which I don’t comply with, of course.
Training also takes place every night (and on my walks during the day with PackMum) in the living room. Or so they think. I’m just after the treats, really. They click, I eat. Simple. Here’s some of the things we do -
Yeah, not sure why - but my PackFamily are meant to pick me up, and hug me. They then inspect my paws, eyes and
teeth, and hug me a little too tight when I wiggle. Both PackDad and PackMum say I’m getting too big now for all of this lap dancing, so I’m not sure how long my hugs are going to go on.
No smart comments about how I look like an old man sitting there like that, right?! That’s my PackDad, anyway…ruff!
They don’t click me much anymore on this, so because I’m not getting my food, I’m starting to rebel and make sure they know their places here. You want sit - then you darn well click!
We have this mat, you see. Somehow, it’s colour co-ordinated with my doggy bed, and bigger mat, but my PackMum says this is pure coincidence. I’m not so sure. It’s getting too small for me, but I’m meant to sit and stay on it. And Mostly, I’m meant to settle on it, but there are much more interesting things to sniff out in the living room than staying on a too small mat, anyway. So, I stay there for a little while, long enough to get a click out of it, anyway - unless someone walks out of the room - which is my chance to scratch and sniff.
Yep, not so keen on this one, but I do get clicked on this. I’m darned if I’ll have my chin combed, though.
How can it be re-call, by the way? Re is doing it again, isn’t it? That would signafy I’ve done it in the first place, which is debatable, and dependent on what’s in it for me. If I’m about to be locked up, then forget it. If I’ve got a more interesting thing I’m chewing (I can reach quite a few higher-up shelves now, I’ve found…) then forget it. If I’m out in that doggy field and running with a real doggy pack, then forget that too.
I’m not meant to pull, which seems a bit frustrating. Sometimes it takes me a while to work out that I’m not going anywhere, and sometimes I’m quite good at getting my PackFamily to walk with me to where I’m heading. We do go to very cool places. Last week I ended up walking through a big field which had white wooly things in it. They didn’t seem much interested in me, and admittedly, I found more interest in the lovely smell of other doggy pooh to roll in at the time. And of course, there’s the lake - I know my own way there now. And the doggy field, where I get to meet all the locals.
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When I Lick
I’m saying I love you
Or maybe that you are a bit smelly
Or that your face is tastey
It could be all of the above
But don’t complain about my love
Lots of Hoomans out there love my puppy kisses
When I Lick
I’m saying I love you.
When I Lick
I’m saying I love you
Even if it’s with lots of drool
And a bit of doggy bad breath
And maybe it’s a bit raspy too
Which doesn’t worry me in the least
Lots of Hoomans out there love my puppy kisses
When I Lick
I’m saying I love you.
When I Lick
I’m saying I love you
Too bad what the dog trainer says
Too bad about the cranky ol’ neighbour
Too bad about that bill you can’t pay
With me around, everything’s okay
Lots of Hoomans out there love my puppy kisses
When I Lick
I’m saying I love you.
Cats are very interesting things. They excite me. And I’m starting to work out that one of them gets me in trouble.We have three cats in my house, but I never see one of them. Another is so old that when I go up to greet him - in my garden, mind you - he simply hisses. This is remarkable work, as he doesn’t have any teeth he’s so old - so how he makes that noise is beyond me. I bark and jump around him a little, but it soon gets boring.
On the other hand, there’s my buddy, Bert. Bert is so much fun, I can’t believe my luck when he comes around the house to play with me. He does this about four or five times a day, just arriving in my garden. He comes up and sweeps around me, and then we’re off. If he can’t find me (admittedly, I’m often sleeping) he will meow for me until I wake up and pay attention. When we play, he jumps on me, I jump on him, do a lot of barking (which apparently annoys the Pack-Family, but what’s a dog to do, yeah?) Until I nip him too hard, and then he gets a wild look in his eye.
What I can’t work out is why, despite his look of pure craziness, does he come back, and back and back to play some more with me? Not that I’m complaining or anything. There’s apparently a name for that in human-world, something to do with a cockeral and teasing, but in my world, it’s just a little ruff and tumble.
Apart from Bert, cats generally seem a bit of a waste of space. They have very good eats, though. Anytime I do have the chance to nip in and grab some of those gocats they just leave around in their “special” bowls all day long - well, there’s a thousand starving dogs in Africa (literally, I believe) so no use that good grub going to waste also. It’s much more tastey than my boring ol’ kibble, for a start. Okay, so it does bad things to my pooh, and my PackMum is getting annoyed with having to clean that up - but at least I get her to do that. The cats don’t. Huh!
I get all the attention too. So there, Bert!
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With due respect, I do not follow the rules. I am not a Dog by the Book .
In fact, anything a book might suggest towards me will be guaranteed not to “work” with me, for me, or for you - for that matter.
You can try that clicker training, crate training, kong stuffing and toilet training. You can try that mat training, constant surveyance and nice quaint introductions to other pets. But it won’t work like the book tells you it should.
I say this, even when I don’t actually read.
I will not be ruled by the book, I will write my own.
Even at 10 weeks.
This is the doggy right.
| Good Things |
| | Bad Things |
| ||||||||||
Real Live Bones | Stuffed, or not. Throw this dog a bone, any bone. Four paws up! |
| Kongs | All the books say we should develop a chewtoy habbit. How can you do that when you can’t get the food out of the stupid holes? | ||||||||||
Bert the Cat | He insists on being chased. How fun is that? |
| Any other cat | Boring, aren’t they – all they do is hiss and kissy fit. | ||||||||||
Bare Naked Fur | As god intended |
| Collars and Leads | Hoomans wear bras, we are made to wear these. In both situations, I’ve got to ask – why? | ||||||||||
Cheese and Liver Treats (Premium quality only) | I only deliver the goodies, if you deliver these goodies. |
| Kibble, smell-less packet-bred doggy treats | I don’t do kibble and I don’t do plastic substitutes masquerading as doggy treats. | ||||||||||
The Kid | She screams and squirms, and makes my tail wag |
| Pete, the next door neighbour | He couldn’t even be bothered saying hello to me. Grumpy old git! | ||||||||||
Accessible Gardens | So I don’t have an “accident” on my doggy bed |
| Set Toileting Places | I will not have my freedom to roam stopped because someone thinks (wrongly) that I need to go do a wee-wee in the same spot-spot. Not, not! |
Today (so far) has been awesome. I’ve spent it alone with PackMum, after getting up frightfully early in the morning
because PackDad and The Kid were going off to work or school or something. And I’ve done nothing.
But PackMum gave me a huge doggy to play with, not to mention my little doggy which I always chew in my special garden place (photo available to the right). And I’ve managed to kick about with Bert the Cat, on our driveway, after PackMum took me for a walk on my stupid lead.
Now, about leads - that’s something I am going to later philosophise upon, because I think we dogs need to really stick up for our rights here. Although it’s a great idea (see my tail wagging?) to go outside the house, enticing me on a lead is not so hot. In fact, it’s making me dizzy, all that twiddling around at the end of that piece of cord, wondering where I’m possibly going when I seem to have stopped - abruptly!
I’ve done a bit (okay, a lot) of sleeping, too. Now that I’m finally settling into the routine of going to bed late at night, and sleeping through (I did wake my Pack up last night at 12:40pm, however - a stupid cat came into my room and woke me, so it was only fair to share the grief) I’m getting the hang of all of this. My routine looks like this -
6:00am Woken up, go do a wee-wee. Or not, if I’ve already managed to find my way to that doggy pad they keep on the newspaper in my room.
6:05am Dumped outside, because I haven’t done that wee, and they need to do something about washing, for pete’s sake!
7:00am Everyone gone, except PackMum, who spends an inordinate amount of time washing things, including some lovely smelly clothing which would much better be given to me, rather than that darn washing machine. We spend some time outside running around - well I do anyway, while she watches.
8:00am Back to sleep, after chewing my big ol’ dog.
9:00am Run around again, go for a walk out the front (I’m apparently not allowed on real walks yet - something to do with only having one jab, which reminds me of a story for later).
12:00noon Remind my PackMum that she (actually me) needs to stop and eat something, anything.
1:00pm More sleep
3:00pm More playing, this time with cheese. Some training where I get tastey treats for making PackMum click a little metal box. It all seems a bit barmy to me, but whatever floats her boat - and gets me that cheese. Apparently later this is the time that PackMum has to go get The Kid from big school - whatever that means. But if it involves kids, then I’m in!
6:00pm Hometime for PackDad (sometimes)
7:00pm I spend some Me-Time while The Kid does the terrible Bath Time. Except I currently don’t really appreciate enforced Me-Time outside, so often spend the time practicing my vocalisation. I know it’s a bit worrying for PackParents, but they’ll learn to appreciate my tunes, I’m sure.
8:00 - 10:00pm Yawn. Grooming, out to wee-wee on demand (I don’t do demands, so make them do this at least three times in a row before they learn that ultimately, I am the winner!). Some more training with cheese, my favourite. And slowing down for the big ol’ sleep in my doggy den (ie kitchen).
Let me state this just fine and clear. Collars suck. I’m an old english sheepdog in the first place, and putting something like this on me just will mess up the lie of my perfect hair. Not only do they suck bigtime, they are itchy and scratchy, and I have to stop to scratch - all the time! Other hoomans seeing me do this think I have fleas. I certainly don’t have fleas. What I do have is a whopping big and uncomfortable strap of bondage placed around my neck so that hoomans can grab me. This is a despicable indictment towards the fact they can’t properly train themselves on how to deal with me without said bondage implement.
Ban collars!!
Make a dog happy in your life.
]]>| Item | Cost |
| Deposit for Simon | £100.00 |
| Dog bed | £50.00 |
| Toys, kongs (3), chewy bits, Books (6) | £90.00 |
| Dog Crate – portable | £49.95 |
| Doggy Toilet (good for the environment), Pooper scooper | £20.00 |
| Puppy Food and Toys (Discount Puppy Club, 15kg) – free posting | $39.95 |
| More toys, puppy treats, clicker bits, Kong Stuffing | £60.00 |
| Doggy Magazine subscription, per annum, 6 issues | £13.96 |
| Collars, leads, doggy poo bags (more collars, as the first didn’t fit) | £60.00 |
| Full Fee for Simon (less the deposit already paid) | £600.00 |
| Vet Health Check after pickup (contractual requirement) | £26.00 |
| 2 x Puppy Social Classes @ £10.00 each | £20.00 |
| Vet Visit – Second Innoculation + Micro-Chipping | £60.00 |
| 6 x Puppy Training Classes @£15.00 each (guestimate) | £90.00 |
| Pet Microwavable Pet Pad (what was my PackMum thinking?!) | £21.00 |
| Munch Mat Training Mat (because the Puppy school has them) | £15.00 |
| Stuffed and hollow roast bones (because I don’t do rubber chew toys) | £20.00 |
| Dog bowls, combs and brushes for grooming | £35.00 |
TOTAL SO FAR | £1370.86 |
Some notes of defense on the above:
This collage was taken when I was five weeks old. I’ve grown a lot since, but at least you can see my new Pack in here also. They’re a relatively unfancy bunch, I would suggest. Here’s my summary.
His name is Peter. And I love him already. He gives me lots of cheese, and on my first night when I was scared as hell, and very very lonely, he came down at 3 o’clock in the morning, and went to sleep with me. Did I say how much I love him already? He’s way kewl, and I want to be his bestist pal as I grow up.
I just wish he’d wash less often. He gave me one of his stinky t-shirts, and this helped me remember my new PackDad until I accidentally wee-ed on it one morning.
Her name is Michelle. She is kind of warming to me, I hope, but keeps being quite stern with me also. I have to go onto a stupid lead, and she grooms me also. She’s currently threatening me with something called “a bath” which I don’t like the sound of at all.
PackMum left work last week, to take care of me. I think this new domestic kick of hers needs urpsurping and this is my main aim in life at the moment. I want to make her clean up all the time, and it appears to be working just as I planned it.
They reckon I should be the bottom dog in this whole thing, but they’ve got another thing coming. I know she’s cute - but she’s even cuter when I pull on her dress, and she has to stand there with her arms in the air and screams a lot too. She makes me very excited. I love her! *Double Woof!!*
I have the joy of sharing my new Pack with - can you believe this! - three cats! What a useless bunch of creatures they are too. Except for Bert, who teases me by running up to me, just so that I can express my vocalisation of the situation, and chase after him.
Rocky is a cat I’ve hardly seen, and then there’s Frank, who is far too dignified and despite my best efforts, still comes in to demand she be fed before me. She’s too good at hissing and whacking me across the nose too. Not a fun person at all.
I just discovered the other day that there are things called budgies here too, and some funny looking fish in a big tank. None of them bother me, so I tend to leave them alone for now. But Bert does, so I’m going to deal with him later.
]]>Firstly, I think it rather bad form that I am forced to show you my baby picture. I’ve been told that parents normally hold these sorts of things up for ransom when you’re a teenager. And I’m not! But I’m still having to do this, and believe me - my PackFamily will know about it at some point in the future, where I will deem to take my revenge. So, turn your head now, because it’s not pretty. And thankfully, I’m kind of hidden anyway, behind all the rest of my littermates.
Okay, that is me at 12 hours old. Get over it!
I was born on 17th June 2007, and don’t ask me what hour, as I’m not into all that zodiac stuff and telling me my future because of my birth time. I just arrived, okay?
The 17th of June happens to have some kind of significance for my new PackMum. She had her fortieth birthday on that day (although obviously didn’t know I was being expelled out into this world at the time), and all I can say is - how old is that! Forty! I can’t imagine how old she is, but somehow she saw my birth as some kind of sign that she should come and see me.
I shared a small house, and a sunny backyard with my doggy family, and three adults from Europe, who worked as doctors in Cambridge - that’s pretty prestigious, huh? They had a little girl, too, who was very good to trip over. We had the run of the place, but my mother was very good, and cleaned up after us most of the time. Until she got sick of it.
I had ten other littermates, and most of them were snapped up by other packs who wanted them immediately. I wasn’t,
which saddens me a little, as obviously I AM the most handsome of them all, and surely of show potential. Fortunately, my soon to be new Pack came and visited me when I was five weeks old. And although they only had two left to choose from - a sister and me, they chose me. Remind me to thank them at some point.
Here’s a photo from my album of some of my littermates on the day, taken by my soon to be new PackMum. She’s quite good at photographs, she tells me - but I can’t get her to proove it. She says we all won’t stay still long enough.
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