On being two…..
Hip, hip, hooray! I’m two years old today. It’s a rough old day, weather-wise, veering between sunshine, howling gales and driving rain. Oh, well. At least it will be memorable. And I’m nice and snuggly inside. I have a choice of three beds downstairs and four beds upstairs. Upstairs is where Mum and Dad spend most of the day, working on their computers, so naturally that’s where I like to be.
I have discovered that a family of mice lives in the bougainvillea which grows up the balcony rail…
Dad’s baked me a cake to a special doggy recipe, and apparently I will be allowed to scoff it at tea-time. I’ve even heard them saying that, as a special concession, I can eat my cake inside the house, today! Wow! I know there’s peanut butter in it, because I watched Dad very carefully while he was making it. Am I lucky, or what? I hope they don’t steal too much of it for themselves – it’s probably going to be pretty hard for them to resist, I know.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here, because Mum wasn’t very well for a while, and she wouldn’t let me near the computer unsupervised. Perhaps she thought I’d be logging onto all those naughty doggy websites while she wasn’t looking. Or, heavens forbid— looking at pictures of cats! I don’t really mind cats – I’m even pretty well behaved when I see rabbits (more later).
So, what’s been happening in my world? Well, I had a trip to the vet’s a while back, just to have my toenails clipped and generally impress them there with my gorgeousness. While we were in the waiting room, Mum made me step onto the doggy scales, and she seemed astonished (though in a nice way, I’m glad to say) by my weight. When Mum and Dad first collected me I weighed around 26 kilos – I was a very petite little boy. Now, Mum and Dad both swear I’ve grown taller, and I’ve certainly put on a bit of weight (though you can still see my ribs, so obviously I haven’t put on too much.) Anyway — what’s my weight now? 30.6kg. Wow! I am sleek and shiny and muscled (Mum’s words, not mine – though I can’t disagree with her), and I gleam when the sun shines on my blue coat.
After I’d been to the vet’s, Mum relinquished my lead to Dad, as she needed to go shopping, and Dad sat with me outside one of the shops at the end of town. I was wearing my GAP vest, and looking pretty splendid and pleased with myself (because Mum had bought me a new cuddly toy from the op-shop) and you know what? Dad says I was a complete chick-magnet! LOTS of people came up to Dad and me while we were waiting for Mum to come back. I was soooo well-behaved and very patient while people patted and fussed me. I only wish Mum had had her camera there to record the whole thing…
Now, what else… oh yes! The next-door neighbour has now been given a small black cat! I confess, I get a bit excited when I see him, and I pull in a very undignified manner, but Mum and Dad are very clear about the rules and say I am NOT allowed to chase him, no matter how much he taunts me by strolling round the front garden, where I’m not allowed to go off the lead.
That’s not all. As if the cat wasn’t enough to have to contend with, some other well-meaning soul then gave the next-door neighbour a rabbit! It’s white with black ears. How do I know this? I know because as soon as our neighbour was given it, it escaped from its hutch and took up residence in our front garden. Here it lived the life of Riley, munching on luscious long grass, fallen apples and feijoas. Why would it want to go home to a small hutch? I know I wouldn’t. Unfortunately that meant that every time I went out for a walk, we had to walk past the small white furry thing that I have been trained from puppyhood to chase, and which I am now expected to completely ignore. I tell you, sometimes life just isn’t fair… I think our next-door neighbour can’t like pets very much (*snigger*).
I amazed my Mum with my superior intelligence the other week. I was playing with one of my biscuits when it sailed – by accident, of course – into my water bowl. Unfortunately the water was too deep for me to simply stick my nose in and retrieve the biscuit. So what did I do? Not what my Mum expected, at any rate. I did what any intelligent hound would do. I simply drank water until the water level in the bowl had sunk sufficiently for me to be able to get the biscuit out without getting my face wet through. Simple, indeed. I still don’t understand why she made such a fuss of me… but I was happy to lap it up.
Until next time…