You’ve heard a lot about Toby this week and almost nothing of Molly. Molly worships the ground I walk on unless I’m not there; in which case she worships whoever is giving her the most attention.
She is the most loving dog but she doesn’t do dog behaviour: Walk? No thanks; I might get wet/cold/hot/dirty. Food? Is it gourmet/heated/yours? Maybe, if you spend long enough coaxing me. Coat? Absolutely! And t-shirt, jumper, blanket as well. I’m freezing! It is August, after all.
She hasn’t done anything interesting of late (she has to be prised from my side for that) so I thought I’d re-post A Day In The Life, to give you a flavour of her character:
- Scratch at Mummy’s door but she can’t hear me over her avalanche impression.
- Go potty.
- Bark to wake Mummy.
- Watch her stand in my poo and go potty.
- Hide in the cushion like a cutie pie.
- Cuddled for reassurance that Mummy loves me despite what she is sure is a mistake on my part. Phew.
- Love Mummy. Love Mummy. Love Mummy.
- Demand breakfast.
- Turn nose up at breakfast.
- Let Mummy hand feed me my breakfast of expensive tinned dog meat.
- Love Mummy. Manage a sticky lick to her face.
- Love Mummy. Wonder why she’s looking a little nauseated.
- Sleep behind Mummy while she’s at the computer.
- Wake up, irritated by the noise Mummy makes when she falls off her little bit of the seat.
- Love Mummy: if I’m going to be awake, I might as well enjoy it.
- Watch Mummy trying to type one-handed while I sit on her lap for an extended belly rub.
- Sleep.
- Take the occasional sniff at Toby’s bottom, particularly when he wants a fuss from Mummy.
- Drool as Mummy eats lunch.
- Refuse to let her up until I get my share.
- Sleep, exhausted from eating my protection money.
- The dreaded walk…
- Tolerate grooming; harness, putting on of; coat, putting on of; coat, taking off of; harness, taking off of; coat, putting on of; harness, putting on of. I knew she had it the wrong way round but I didn’t tell her because it might start raining before she’s finished and then I have a legitimate excuse to refuse to leave house.
- Open door. See rain. Refuse to leave house.
- Tolerate harness, taking off of; coat, taking off of.
- Love Mummy. Love Mummy. Love Mummy.
- Sleep.
- Ignore the weird kid who sleeps in the room next door to Mummy, when he comes downstairs, eats, grunts, and returns to his hole.
- Drool as Mummy eats dinner.
- Refuse to let her up until I get my share.
- Demand dinner.
- Turn nose up at dinner.
- Let Mummy hand feed me my dinner of expensive soft pellets.
- Love Mummy. Love Mummy. Love Mummy.
- Sleep.
- Cuddle Daddy while Mummy’s busy, keeping my eyes trained at all times on Mummy.
- Love Mummy. Love Mummy. Love Mummy.
- Stick to Mummy like poo to her toes as she prepares for bed; she’s going nowhere without me.
- Wait patiently to be lifted on to the bed because I’m too feeble to jump up myself, unless she’s not there.
- Have extended cuddle until Mummy’s arms ache, her tea goes cold and she knocks her Kindle onto the floor while trying to reach around me.
- Love Mummy. Love Mummy. Love Mummy.
- Sleep.
- Disturbed by Mummy trying to get comfortable on her tenth of the bed.
- Wait until she settles then sit on the most awkward part of her body (varies according to whether she’s lying on her front, back or side).
- Sleep.
- Disturbed by Daddy giving me a goodnight cuddle before he puts me out of the room so he can go to bed.
- Give Daddy the evil eye for separating me from Mummy.
- Wait for Daddy to fall asleep and try to sneak back in; jump easily onto the bed and wiggle my way between them, sleeping long-ways to get comfortable.
- Daddy’s on to me: he shuts the door properly this time.
- Love Mummy. Love Mummy. Love Mummy. Can’t be separated from Mummy.
- Scratch at Mummy’s door but she can’t hear me over her avalanche impression.
- Go potty.
I have the funniest readers in the blogosphere (not necessarily ha ha…)