Storm Imogen’s been blowing a gale down here on the Kentish coast. I have been busy measuring the wind speed and direction with my handy built-in fur monitor:
And as for Dad, well…the storm gave him a good opportunity to try out his new kite…
H x
Apparently it has quite a lot of lift to begin with, but then keeps crashing back to earth. Strange.
Those of you who know me well, or are regular readers of my blog, will realise that I’m quite a happy chappy. In fact, every day is an amazing adventure. But this weekend has literally been the BEST THING EVER! Granny and Grandad have been away visiting Uncle Matthew and Auntie Katie, so my best friend Molly (note from Hector’s Mum: not sure the relationship is entirely reciprocal, especially when the face barking is at its most intense, but hey) has been to stay with me for two nights. It’s been awesome!!!!!!!!!!!
On Friday, Mum took us both to the beach and we pulled her into the water with her favourite new shoes on. Brilliant. Then we both scoffed loads of sea water and promptly had upset tummies all over the promenade. That gave Mum a chance to show off her fancy new polka dot poop bags, so I’m pretty sure she loved our presents 😀
I’ll let Molly go first, that’s what gentlemen do. What? Who said ‘wimp’? I resent that accusation. Chivalry is not dead.
Let’s get a little seaweed facial while we’re here…
Next stop was the pet shop, where I chose a fluffy football…well, I pinched it off the shelf, carried it round the store and covered it in slobber so Mum had to buy it for me. I also negotiated a huge new dog duvet for myself. Who can resist my puppy dog eyes?
But when we got home, it didn’t turn out quite as I’d expected:
Still feels a little lumpy. One more super loud scratching session should get it perfect.
So, Molly has been sleeping on my new bed for the last two nights. But it’s OK. I let her because I love her. And she lets me waggle my bum at her and bark really loudly in her ears when I want to play…just like I did at 8 o’clock this morning. It’s a match made in heaven.
Not sure why Molly was wagging so much when we took her back to Granny and Grandad’s today though. But then, she is only a cocker spaniel. She doesn’t quite have the brainpower of Bordoodle. Simple minds, simple pleasures.
Ah, what it is to be me!
H x
Let’s start on a positive note for people who appreciate a cute looking Deputy Dawg. This is Eleanor’s favourite right now:
He’s getting big – all legs like a young gazelle. Kind of hard to believe he’s just 16 weeks old. This is most noticeable by how far he can reach when he jumps up at the kitchen counter – and not noticeable at all in this picture at all so I’ll try and take one later. Pretty soon, I’m going to have to put some shelves up or one of those Victorian things that’s on wheels and attached to the ceiling.
Still, he’s healthy and happy which is all you can ask for. There’s a line in the Alice Cooper song Eighteen that goes “I’m a boy and I’m a man…” which is pretty much where we find ourselves with Mr Meltdown. Life seems to be two steps forwards, one step back with him right now but that’s a better result than one step forward and two steps back I guess.
Here’s a comprehensive list of things he does that we’d rather he didn’t:
Biting
Apart from this, both of us could probably handle everything else because the rest is nothing more than him being four months old. It’s not just a nip to the hand either – an ankle is a good target, as is a good looking calf. If neither of these are attractive enough, he’s not beyond jumping for your tricep – and that one really hurts. It’s like some kind of doggie martial art but I’m putting it down to 90% teething/10% being young.
It’s not aggressive biting though – sometimes he absolutely knows where your sock ends and your skin begins but all the same, we might need to get some professional advice on this. I suspect it might be part of his herding mentality – then again, if you look at it with dog eyes, it does look like a pretty fun game to play. Let’s see how it goes for the next couple of weeks. If it is teething, we have plenty of socks soaked in water and then frozen to make ‘who cares if they get destroyed’ teething toys if you’re interested.
I make it sound like it’s all under control but every now and then, he can really take you so far to the brink of your patience, you can look over the edge and see it smoking. It’s not all doom and destruction though – far from it.
•••
Yesterday, we went down to the beach to see what he would make of the sea. That’s my cue for a video clip:
Seems pretty obvious to us that the beach is going to be a great place to go. He was so tired when we got back, he slept for hours and best of all, he smelled like a dog that had been in the sea instead of a dog that accidentally on purpose fell in the pond over at Eleanor’s folks house – but as I write this that’s where they’ve gone right now, so we might be back to square one again in an hour or so.
More later… I hear the car pulling up.
Hector's House 