Well, friends and fellow countrydogs, I'm signing in to briefly update my blog before we head off for the Christmas holidays. I know we are going on a trip somewhere - and I suspect it is to my grandparents' house up in the country. Clothes are being piled on the spare bed, loads of garishly wrapped objects are appearing around the place with bows and ribbons and tiny little cards attached to them, and there is much excitement buzzing about - a real 'Xmas Atmos'!!!!!
I'll let you now what Santa Paws brought me in the New Year!
Eddie xxx
Wednesday 23 December 2009
Friday 18 December 2009
Honey I shrunk the dog!
I had the freakiest day EVER yesterday dear readers, and I'm only relieved to be still here to tell the tale. At around 4.30pm in the afternoon I was frog marched into the now familiar torture chamber, whereby I am stripped of all my dignity - not to mention my manly tangles and musty smell - through a sustained routine of unimaginable water, shampoo and scissor based horror....
as I walked in, my human ignoring all my howls of protest, I saw something that made me tremble to the tips of my paws.... there, in one of the cages was surely an experiment gone wrong? It was a mini-me. The smallest blue roan cocker spaniel I've seen since I left the litter.... They have started shrinking us in the wash!
as I walked in, my human ignoring all my howls of protest, I saw something that made me tremble to the tips of my paws.... there, in one of the cages was surely an experiment gone wrong? It was a mini-me. The smallest blue roan cocker spaniel I've seen since I left the litter.... They have started shrinking us in the wash!
Thursday 17 December 2009
Santa is under house arrest
There has been much hushed talk about the imminent arrival of a certain 'Mr S Claus' who, I have discovered, will be sneaking into the house while the humans are asleep to help himself to the mince pies and brandy. Not on my watch he won't!
So just imagine my surprise when I got back from my long walk in the park and apprehended him on the sofa this week. I expect they will be very pleased with me when they get home from work today to find that I have him under house arrest...
So just imagine my surprise when I got back from my long walk in the park and apprehended him on the sofa this week. I expect they will be very pleased with me when they get home from work today to find that I have him under house arrest...
Friday 11 December 2009
Festive season
There is something very odd going on with the humans this past week. Our whole routine - which we dogs rely on as the very fabric of our existence - is being shot to pieces. Our normal day consists of pestering the humans awake at 6.45am for toilet, breakfast, back to bed for a snooze. 11am - walk. 12pm - chewy bone. Snooze. 2pm - play fight for an hour. 3pm snooze. 6pm - dinner and walk. 7pm - play fighting. 8pm - snooze in front of the TV with the humans. 10pm - bed.
But this week, the humans can hardly drag themselves out of bed of a morning (and when they do there is some grizzling and mutterings of keeping the noise down and acheing heads) so we have had to resort to sitting on them at 6.45am, and still we have been left to starve until 7.15am. Then we have been getting dinner at 5pm, no walk, and no humans until 9pm or so, when they come in and go to bed.
There is much giggling and swaying up the stairs on the way to bed, and hardly any of the fuss we are used to when we get there. Lights out. Snoring starts. And the breath!
I hear they call this the 'festive season'.... wonder how long it lasts?
But this week, the humans can hardly drag themselves out of bed of a morning (and when they do there is some grizzling and mutterings of keeping the noise down and acheing heads) so we have had to resort to sitting on them at 6.45am, and still we have been left to starve until 7.15am. Then we have been getting dinner at 5pm, no walk, and no humans until 9pm or so, when they come in and go to bed.
There is much giggling and swaying up the stairs on the way to bed, and hardly any of the fuss we are used to when we get there. Lights out. Snoring starts. And the breath!
I hear they call this the 'festive season'.... wonder how long it lasts?
Tuesday 8 December 2009
Welcome to the hotel cocker spaniel!
Oh dog, I'm in trouble again today. My female human came home from work yesterday pleased as punch with a new black and silver friendship bracelet she'd got from a swanky London store. I know what you are thinking - the dog ate it? Nope. He buried it? No. Worse.
After wearing it all evening and retiring to bed - which, by the way, I've fully charmed my way back into after yesterday's attempts to make us sleep (shock horror) 'downstairs' were foiled - we all settled down for a kip. Me in my usual spot on the edge of the bed, with Mrs S 'spooned' up behind me, her head on my pillow behind mine, and her arm under my head helpfully supporting my neck.
I was busy dreaming about roast chicken when jeez - the commotion was enough to wake the whole street (and they complain about the odd woof from us!).... its her wrist, and its itching and burning and covered in spots....
Oh dear, I thinks. She's been had, this bracelet is a dud. Man, she's gonna be so cross. And then I snuggle back down and forget all about it.
Next thing I know, the room is floodlit and I'm being grabbed by the scruff of my neck and hauled into the bathroom for 'an inspection'.... apparently I have fleas! FLEAS!! I'm mortified. Horrified. Aghast.
I try to explain that if I DO have fleas (and at this moment in time it's still under investigation) we all know where I got them from - THEM BLOODY CATS! It's the hairy one. I know it.
But will she listen? Of course not, I'm hoiked back into the bedroom, forced to lie on a large floor cushion for the rest of the night and sleep only fitfully with their last words ringing in my ears....horrible, nasty, bitey creatures (and by this I assume they mean the fleas, and not the spaniels)....vets....flea treatment....it will cost a fortune..... and oh dear dog......BATH......
I will get my revenge - the cats will pay.
After wearing it all evening and retiring to bed - which, by the way, I've fully charmed my way back into after yesterday's attempts to make us sleep (shock horror) 'downstairs' were foiled - we all settled down for a kip. Me in my usual spot on the edge of the bed, with Mrs S 'spooned' up behind me, her head on my pillow behind mine, and her arm under my head helpfully supporting my neck.
I was busy dreaming about roast chicken when jeez - the commotion was enough to wake the whole street (and they complain about the odd woof from us!).... its her wrist, and its itching and burning and covered in spots....
Oh dear, I thinks. She's been had, this bracelet is a dud. Man, she's gonna be so cross. And then I snuggle back down and forget all about it.
Next thing I know, the room is floodlit and I'm being grabbed by the scruff of my neck and hauled into the bathroom for 'an inspection'.... apparently I have fleas! FLEAS!! I'm mortified. Horrified. Aghast.
I try to explain that if I DO have fleas (and at this moment in time it's still under investigation) we all know where I got them from - THEM BLOODY CATS! It's the hairy one. I know it.
But will she listen? Of course not, I'm hoiked back into the bedroom, forced to lie on a large floor cushion for the rest of the night and sleep only fitfully with their last words ringing in my ears....horrible, nasty, bitey creatures (and by this I assume they mean the fleas, and not the spaniels)....vets....flea treatment....it will cost a fortune..... and oh dear dog......BATH......
I will get my revenge - the cats will pay.
Monday 7 December 2009
My humans are plotting against me
I am living with a terrible foreboding today.
Why? I fear that my humans are plotting to make me sleep downstairs with the cats. WITH THE CATS!! Yes you heard it right. I am outraged. The rule of the world is that the humans are allowed to sleep in my bed, as long as they stick to the edges, Ruby can sleep there too as long as she sleeps by the foot board and not up by my pillows, while those horrible moggies sleep on the floor in the kitchen.
It started last night. Hushed whispers as bedtime approached and furtive glances between the humans as we snoozed on the sofa. Imagine my horror when I drifted back to consciousness a few hours later to find the humans had snuck off to my bed without telling me!
As I laid downstairs in the cold and the dark, behind a firmly closed door, wondering how they could do this to me, there seemed to be only one option. So I nudged Ruby awake, took a deep breath, and howled: AAAWWWOOOOOOOWWWWWWW........ YOWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW......WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!!
Sure enough, five minutes later I was back in my own bed. How they thought they would get away with it is beyond me. Fools.
But I fear I may not be over the worst as I caught snatched conversations this morning: 'Blah blah blah.....back to basics....' - 'blah blah blah....ear plugs blah blah' - 'blah blah blah crate training again blah blah blah biscuit when he's quiet....' (which caught my attention) and 'I'll put a bloody bag over his head, that will teach him....' (that got withering looks from my female human I'm pleased to report).
So I'll let you know how it goes, but I can assure you that I will not be sleeping on the same level of the house as the cats.....
Why? I fear that my humans are plotting to make me sleep downstairs with the cats. WITH THE CATS!! Yes you heard it right. I am outraged. The rule of the world is that the humans are allowed to sleep in my bed, as long as they stick to the edges, Ruby can sleep there too as long as she sleeps by the foot board and not up by my pillows, while those horrible moggies sleep on the floor in the kitchen.
It started last night. Hushed whispers as bedtime approached and furtive glances between the humans as we snoozed on the sofa. Imagine my horror when I drifted back to consciousness a few hours later to find the humans had snuck off to my bed without telling me!
As I laid downstairs in the cold and the dark, behind a firmly closed door, wondering how they could do this to me, there seemed to be only one option. So I nudged Ruby awake, took a deep breath, and howled: AAAWWWOOOOOOOWWWWWWW........ YOWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW......WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!!
Sure enough, five minutes later I was back in my own bed. How they thought they would get away with it is beyond me. Fools.
But I fear I may not be over the worst as I caught snatched conversations this morning: 'Blah blah blah.....back to basics....' - 'blah blah blah....ear plugs blah blah' - 'blah blah blah crate training again blah blah blah biscuit when he's quiet....' (which caught my attention) and 'I'll put a bloody bag over his head, that will teach him....' (that got withering looks from my female human I'm pleased to report).
So I'll let you know how it goes, but I can assure you that I will not be sleeping on the same level of the house as the cats.....
Friday 4 December 2009
Santa Paws
Dear Santa Paws
Apparently I have to write you a letter about how well behaved and good mannered I've been in order to get some nice presents this Christmas. So here goes:
I accept that perhaps my year could have started better, when on my first day away from my mum and litter mates I mistakenly chewed a glass vase. Giving my new mum a near heart attack and an unhealthy obsession with poo for a fortnight. But you have to say that I soon redeemed myself by learning that any self-respecting puppy should go to the toilet in the garden, not in the kitchen, hallway or front room, and that CATS ARE NOT FOR CHASING.
I'll also admit that I could be an early riser in the beginning, and that with jobs to go to to keep me in food and treats and the now customary vets bills, those 5am howls for attention might have got a tad annoying. But, the soulful whimpering did the trick in moving me out of the crate and into the humans' bed at night by about four months old, thus removing the need for the unsightly cage in the bedroom. And, I NEVER chased a cat during the night while they slept.
I'll give you the fact that my recall was, and still is, a touch unpredictable, but here I must blame my cocker spaniel genes and declare it not to be my fault that I go deaf when in pursuit of another dog or cyclist (or cat). It is hereditary and out of my control.
But on the plus side, I did manage to fool the obedience trainer into giving me my puppy and bronze training certificates with 100% pass marks. Thus making the humans look like good dog owners, albeit utterly perplexed about why I can obey all commands in class, but bugger all commands when in public. This surely shows canine initiative and commitment?
Finally, despite the humans' efforts to keep me half starved - two MINUTE bowls of dry kibble with the odd scraping of chicken or fish a day and none of the table scraps and leftovers that all my doggy chums in the park gloat about - I have never actioned the urges to leap on my humans and savage them for their dinner. I don't even do the sitting by their knees, mournful eyed and drooling, in order to obtain scraps by emotional blackmail.
Oh, and I think I know the house rule NOT TO CHASE THE CATS now, I've heard it so many times (at least, not when the humans are within earshot).
So, it's patently clear that I need a new ball on a rope (Dad threw the last one into a tree), a new squeaky sheep (Ruby systematically destroyed and de-stuffed mine), a large rawhide bone (I keep forgetting to hide them from the foxes) and my very own cat that I will be allowed to freely chase to my heart's content (I promise not to catch it).
Eddie x
Apparently I have to write you a letter about how well behaved and good mannered I've been in order to get some nice presents this Christmas. So here goes:
I accept that perhaps my year could have started better, when on my first day away from my mum and litter mates I mistakenly chewed a glass vase. Giving my new mum a near heart attack and an unhealthy obsession with poo for a fortnight. But you have to say that I soon redeemed myself by learning that any self-respecting puppy should go to the toilet in the garden, not in the kitchen, hallway or front room, and that CATS ARE NOT FOR CHASING.
I'll also admit that I could be an early riser in the beginning, and that with jobs to go to to keep me in food and treats and the now customary vets bills, those 5am howls for attention might have got a tad annoying. But, the soulful whimpering did the trick in moving me out of the crate and into the humans' bed at night by about four months old, thus removing the need for the unsightly cage in the bedroom. And, I NEVER chased a cat during the night while they slept.
I'll give you the fact that my recall was, and still is, a touch unpredictable, but here I must blame my cocker spaniel genes and declare it not to be my fault that I go deaf when in pursuit of another dog or cyclist (or cat). It is hereditary and out of my control.
But on the plus side, I did manage to fool the obedience trainer into giving me my puppy and bronze training certificates with 100% pass marks. Thus making the humans look like good dog owners, albeit utterly perplexed about why I can obey all commands in class, but bugger all commands when in public. This surely shows canine initiative and commitment?
Finally, despite the humans' efforts to keep me half starved - two MINUTE bowls of dry kibble with the odd scraping of chicken or fish a day and none of the table scraps and leftovers that all my doggy chums in the park gloat about - I have never actioned the urges to leap on my humans and savage them for their dinner. I don't even do the sitting by their knees, mournful eyed and drooling, in order to obtain scraps by emotional blackmail.
Oh, and I think I know the house rule NOT TO CHASE THE CATS now, I've heard it so many times (at least, not when the humans are within earshot).
So, it's patently clear that I need a new ball on a rope (Dad threw the last one into a tree), a new squeaky sheep (Ruby systematically destroyed and de-stuffed mine), a large rawhide bone (I keep forgetting to hide them from the foxes) and my very own cat that I will be allowed to freely chase to my heart's content (I promise not to catch it).
Eddie x
Wednesday 2 December 2009
Now here's a thing...
...why do we cockers always get into so much trouble when we try to help the humans? Last night Mrs S was undertaking more of that DIY activity and I noticed that she had left a paint brush and cloth on the hallway floor, so I thought I would help out by tidying up for her. The next thing I know there's all this commotion and I'm having my chops and ears washed out with a wet cloth. Something about me having unwanted extra white roaning all over my face? I give up.
Tuesday 1 December 2009
Back again
Well, my Uncle Daniel reminded my mum today that I've been neglecting to keep this blog up to date. So with this chastisement ringing in my spaniel ears, I'm putting paws to paper with renewed vigour and a pledge to blog each and every day now (lest I have no readers left!)...
So what's been happening lately? We've been decorating the hallway - but I get the impression that the humans are none too impressed when we try to help with the clearing up by moving the wet rollers and brushes - and we've been loving the wet weather - although there seemed to be some trouble when we dried ourselves off in said decorated hallway on Sunday... I honestly don't think there was any need for such bad language!
But our main concern lately has been Mr Fox - who appears to be availing himself of our rawhide chews and bones every night. I know we are not supposed to take them out in the garden, but it's what we dogs do. Except when we go back out to retrieve them the next day they've been pinched... anyone got any advice on how to get rid of him?
Chow for now! Eddie x
So what's been happening lately? We've been decorating the hallway - but I get the impression that the humans are none too impressed when we try to help with the clearing up by moving the wet rollers and brushes - and we've been loving the wet weather - although there seemed to be some trouble when we dried ourselves off in said decorated hallway on Sunday... I honestly don't think there was any need for such bad language!
But our main concern lately has been Mr Fox - who appears to be availing himself of our rawhide chews and bones every night. I know we are not supposed to take them out in the garden, but it's what we dogs do. Except when we go back out to retrieve them the next day they've been pinched... anyone got any advice on how to get rid of him?
Chow for now! Eddie x
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