More dog tales...

Thanks to Vic the Vicar for his comment on yesterday's blog post. It is always great to read comments, indeed reading other people's reactions to my ramblings is often more fun than the rambling itself!

I wasn't planning on blogging this morning but as Blogger has seen fit to repeatedly refuse to let me respond to comments, I thought I would write another dog related post in response.

We have ended up (by chance rather than by design - although I think God is more likely than chance personally) with two very amusing and slightly dotty dogs. We adore them both even though their actions are sometimes beyond our understanding. Bobby is only 9 weeks old, he is forgiven for chewing, mouthing, weeing in the wrong places, etc. These are not personality quirks they are just the behaviours of a puppy. Monty on the other hand is, at least physically, an adult dog. He has many idiosyncrasies (although we do not deny our part in creating them as we have raised him).

To answer Vic's question, Monty does indeed sleep upside down. This is his favourite and most relaxed position - a position he rarely adopts when we are in new and unfamiliar surroundings. It is a little off putting, especially to guests or when one is eating, as in this position all modesty is lost and his "gentleman's area" is displayed in its limited glory.

In answer to the question about opening doors, no we haven't witnessed Monty open a door. He has been known to move the table we use to block the stairs when we are all in bed. The reason the table is there in the first place is due to Monty being completely incapable on letting us know when he needs to go to the toilet. If he is desperate he will push past and go downstairs to leave a puddle by the back door. These days I have become accustomed to this, and so like a parent alert for their child's cry, even the slightest movement makes me leap out of bed and rush downstairs to open the door for him. Very relaxing....NOT.

Many years ago, when I lived at home, we did have a problem with animals opening doors, but even then it was discovered the cat and dogs were working as a team. The cat threw himself on the door handle to release it and the dogs pushed, and all hell broke loose! Mum asked a friend to help, and for years all our door handles were vertical!

Monty loves to run off the lead and has brilliant recall, if we happen to have a ball. He would play fetch all day given the choice. He is occasionally distracted by squirrels or rabbits and careers off after them at speed only to return minus the ball which he has dropped in his excitement. Then some frantic searching later and we can continue on our way!

He loves to swim and is now quite accomplished and he doesn't chase the ducks (unlike one of my parents labs). However he hates the bath!

Monty sleeps on the floor in our bedroom on his mat, and at the first sign of us stirring he jumps up on the bed and goes back to sleep. He's very fond of sleep.

Monty is an accomplished thief, although again I have met worse. These days he is only likely to steal if he feels neglected. The kitchen sides have to be completely cleared before we can go out and leave him otherwise he will clear them for us. We came back from church one Sunday morning to find he had chewed and spread all over the floor a very large pack of filter coffee - it was everywhere! He is also partial to sponge scoureres, tea towels and the odd plastic dinosaur. The first time he ate a marble I was very nervous untill it passed safely through - and no Mother I did not disinfect it and return it to the child!!!

He has reeked some damage in the study as a puppy, but only destroying an old chair. No cloak eating here! A childhood dog once ate my Dad's Parson's Pocketbook - He caused weeks and weeks of confusion and phone calls to funeral directors and wedding couples which included the phrase "Sorry, the dog ate my diary...no, he did really eat my diary!" We have got off lightly so far.

I hope you enjoy the dog antics, no doubt I will have more as Bobby grows - it's double trouble now!

Pants in the Pond

There was a discussion on Twitter today centred around how one mum would sort out her children's accumulated clutter. The consensus was that the best way to sort it was to put it all in black bags (adult clutter included) and charge a 1p tithe to release it to its owner. A very good idea, and one that we could do with using in this house from time to time (I would owe a lot of money)!

This discussion amused me, particularly as from the ages of 5 - 21 I was possibly the least tidy person that God lovingly created! I have gradually improved but that is mainly thanks to the influence of a certain Curate of my acquaintance whose own tidiness borders on excessive (in my humble opinion). However during the years above I lived with my parents and then in various student digs where my untidiness knew no bounds!

One particular incident from adolescence is worth sharing (although those of you with teenagers should look away now in case you are moved to follow my Mum's example).

I had gone for tea at a friend's house a couple of streets away, and I received a phone call. It went like this:

Me: "Hello Mum, what's up?"
Mum: "Oh nothing, I am fine now, but you need to come home immediately!" Said in an calm and slightly scary voice.
Me: "What have I done?"
Mum: "Come home now!"

I raced all the way home, my heart beating ninety to the dozen to discover my fate. I had no idea what i could possibly have done to be in trouble but I still felt guilty. When I arrived home, Mum was still calm and she said "I was appalled by the state of your room today and so in a fit of anger I have thrown all the things that shouldn't be on the floor out of your bedroom window and you need to go into the garden and collect them. Now!"

I scuttled off into the garden to retrieve random items of makeup, magazines, soft toys, and most embarrassingly discarded items of dirty laundry. Most of the laundry (mainly pants to my shame and disgust) had already had a pre-wash cycle as my window was directly above the garden pond!

When I came back in and apologised for my room and the mess and assured Mum I would try harder in future, she accepted my apology and we continued our evening in peace. However when I went to bed that night I discovered that she hadn't finished my 'unusual' punishment. As I got into bed I squealed at a strange noise - Mum had filled my duvet cover with my discarded sweet wrappers! Needless to say they went in the bin (where they should have been in the first place) immediately.

So teenagers, if you are being berated for the state of your room, or not taking your washing to the laundry bin, just remember it could be far far worse

Are you taking the mickey?

I'm into banter, I like good hearted friendly teasing, I relish the opportunity to find a joke! That's me.

When I was a child I was so insecure that the accusation 'you can't take a joke' was often levelled at me, along with being reprimanded for 'smart' remarks. Not a good combination. I learned to give as good as I get and am quite happy to be the butt of friend's joke as long as they know they will receive the same treatment, anyone who knows me will testify that I do just that! The longer you have known me the more ammunition you have stored!

It is a sign of friendship for me, a good-natured ribbing, I only tease when I am on safe ground, when I know the person well enough that I can be sure it will be taken well, and when the person concerned knows me we enough to recognise the joke. I make witty (or at least they amuse me) asides and often my humour is self-depracating, and when I use the latter I am not looking for sympathy - just a giggle.

I tend to be drawn to that kind of person, one who can take a joke and return it ten-fold. They become my closest friends - you know who you are... This kind of ability not to take oneself too seriously is an amazing thing as far as I am concerned, and understandably only shared within the closeness of friendship, it makes a person vulnerable.

When I am cross or disapproving, I try not to speak at all. There will be no sarcasm because once I have started I can't stop and it will hurt. If I get on with a person and understand them and that feeling is mutual then the jokes are shared as naturally as the rest of the conversation. If this is not the case I am as clear as I can be, there is no room for humourous asides which may be misconstrued or only funny to one party.

You see, the thing is, my kind of humour has to be shared through mutual respect. Otherwise witty becomes rude, teasing becomes bullying, and people become hurt and that is in no way funny.

NB:Many thanks to Dave Walker for the use of the Cartoon :-)