Monday, 20 March 2017


So Mama J and I thought we’d recreate the 1991 hit movie Thelma and Louise last Wednesday morning. Minus sadly the newly single Brad Pitt and more fortunately the cliff, phew on that one! Although we did have to escape up a hill in a churchyard but more about that in a minute.
   Granny and Grandpa were out at a funeral so Mama J and I thought we’d go out and have some fun in the spring sun. As Mama J slipped on her coat, I at first thought I was going to be abandoned in the dining room with only the radio’s playlist for company then she went into my lead and coat cupboard. Yes, folks I have so many coats now courtesy of Mama J that I need a cupboard of my own to store them in. Ah being a doggie with a “wardrobe” makes life so marvellous for me, a style loving girl. With my harness and lead firmly in place and no coat required due to the warm temperatures we were off down the driveway to Mama J’s yellow Mini Cooper, Primrose. I do love a ride in Primrose so much.
We drove for about ten minutes to a local village’s park area, where we both jumped out the car for a wander around. Although we didn’t go to the park due to other dogs being exercised there. As you know I’m developing relationships with the dogs in my village, so Mama J thought we’d better not push things too much by adding pooch “friendships” in other villages. Instead we did a full on tour of all the village’s cul-de-sacs. In fact I think Mama J and I could do some amateur photography and produce a book on North Yorkshire’s cul-de-sacs. This could be an additional hobby for trainspotters, just not the Ewan McGregor (Mark Renton) kind. We explored every avenue of the cul-de-sacs and at one point we had to hide behind a blue car as there was a Westie passing the end of the road and Mama J didn’t want me to see it. On another cul-de-sac Mama J pointed to the ground and actively encouraged me to sniff the pavement and the air as she could hear then see dogs barking up ahead. We stayed sniffing (me the ground and Mama J the fresh air) until the coast was clear and we walked back to Primrose and started the engine to continue our road trip.
We started heading back towards home and Mama J shouted excitedly, “Wave at Magi, Radar and Monica!” Okay Mama J who are they? Mama J looked at me and saw the confusion on my Yorkshire Terrier face so she had to explain that we were passing the stables where she learnt to horse ride. I wanted to go meet her former Riding Instructor Magi as she sounds so lovely although Mama J thought I might not want to meet the horses in the stables so much if we had gone there.
   When The Cheltenham Festival was on the telly the other day, Mama J had a flash back due to horse-cam. Mama J explained that horse riding really is as scary or fun depending on your fear threshold as it looked from the horses back.
However we didn’t go back home just yet as we drove down to another village in our beautiful area. We pulled up just around the corner from the churchyard and got out of the car to the sound of drills and diggers. As we walked passed the Builders Mama J and I (two gorgeous girls) were slightly disappointed not to get a wolf whistle. Perhaps these Builders had been watching the Sally Metcalfe sexism storyline on Coronation Street and thought better of it.
   We headed up the road where we spotted a golden labrador in the distance so we decided to hotfoot it into the churchyard and to a high vantage point at the top of the yard where we could spy sorry watch and wait until the labrador was minimum safe distance away.
   Once the labrador coast was clear we headed up a dirt track and then over a metal bridge. I was not intimidated by the bridge although Mama J tiptoed on the concrete to the side of it, she feared she might get her foot stuck between the metal in a clumsy Frank Spencer manner. As we got to the top of the track there were two donkeys waiting to say a nay of hello to me. Mama J knowing that the donkeys were safely behind a large fence let me go and have a closer look. However as they spotted me they started to get a bit giddy. Oh the effect I have on other animals is simply magical! Their giddiness then spurred me on and I started barking at my two new friends. Mama J thought we’d better head back towards Primrose at this point as we didn’t want to be witness to the donkey version on The Grand National.

As we got back to Primrose I had a diva strop (yes another one) as Mama J wanted to go home for a lovely cup of tea along with a Malted Milk biscuit but I wanted to stay out and explore some more. In the end Mama J had to lift me back into Primrose as I had well and truly put my paw brakes on. Mama J has promised me more trips out very soon and believe me I’ll be holding her to that promise.

Monday, 13 March 2017


Mama J went to the hospital last Thursday for a routine check-up on her heart. As soon as she opened the appointment letter she got palpitations and continued having them on and off right up until her appointment, three weeks later. Has Dr Doug Ross transferred from the ER and into a hospital right here in the UK? I reckon he must’ve done to give her chest moving action like that!
   On the day of her check-up Mama J went into a cold and clammy sweat. I don’t think Dr Doug would be very impressed by that glamorous look or feel as he gave her an examination. She sat at the opposite end of the sofa to where she normally sits and then kept jumping up and down randomly. Was she going to find out whether she had ants in her pants? Or was she auditioning for the part of a Jack In The Box. I think she would’ve won the role hands and paws down.
   She did ask me to go with her although Granny said it wasn’t such a great idea as monitors and me don’t mix very well. I just have to be laid on the sofa when Holby City is on and the musical noises the monitors make send me into a frenzy of barking. Holby City and I would make an excellent alternative choir, for deaf people to enjoy! It was deemed safer that I guard the house while the two other girls in my family went to the check-up.
   I can’t go into too much detail as I’ve got a data protection clause in my doggie blogging contract to do with medical information. Although I must tell you about one of the questions Mama J asked her Consultant Cardiologist. She told him about walking me and asked if she was okay to do more walking as she didn’t want to put too much strain on her heart. His reply was as follows, “Oh yes Juliet, I think walking your dog is excellent exercise and wouldn’t do your condition any harm whatsoever in fact gentle exercise would do it some good. So yes, walk your dog once… No twice a day!” The colour drained from Mama J’s face at this point as not only did she think of all the “lovely” exercise we were going to do but also that she would need to spend big bucks to get some decent walking gear to do it in. Granny was rubbing her hands together in glee and planning all the magazines and books she was going to read while Mama J and I pound the pavements of our area.
   I have the Doctor’s bank details and will be making a financial transfer right after finishing this post. Now I can fully train Mama J to reach her maximum athletic potential in full knowledge that medical professionals are right behind me, cheering me on!
So I threw a massive diva strop on Saturday afternoon. This strop would’ve beaten any that Mariah Carey or Elton John could ever have thrown, if strops were in fact a competition. My tantrum and tiara moment was all over where I laid on “my” sofa.
   I had just made myself comfy across “my” two favoured cushions for the afternoons Rugby match, when in strolled Granny and Grandpa armed with wine and rum and coke. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, I was ready to ring Alcoholics Anonymous about my pair of lushes!
   Anyway Granny sat towards the window end of the sofa and then with that Grandpa picked me up and plonked himself down where I had been laid. The cheeky bugger! With that I gave him “the look” and ran over to the other sofa, squashed down the cushion in sheer defiance and laid with my back to them both, staring at the back of the sofa. How dare they? Don’t they know that those are “my” cushions? Wait until “my” Mother gets home! I’ll be telling on these two!
   As the Rugby match progressed and England were scoring lots of tries my Kevin and Perry sulk moment kept getting interrupted by the noisy pair shouting and screaming with joy at the telly. I just kept glaring over my shoulder as if I’d changed from a Yorkshire Terrier, supporting England to an honorary Scottie dog and a fan of the Scotland Rugby team, just because I didn’t approve of my Grandparents pure cheek! 

Monday, 6 March 2017


So Saturday mornings walk was an adventure of scary sized proportions as it actually managed to make my hair stand on end. Mind you that doesn’t take too much doing as I shake my head and look like Tina Turner, most mornings right after Granny’s given me a brush. I was like Mama J at the end of the Thriller video. You know the moment when the loud man (it sounds very loud in a nightclub setting so Mama J tells me, although I’m such a home bird (sorry pooch) that I’ll have to take her word for it. Also I don’t see myself getting passed any Doorman due to my small stature and youthful good looks) laughs and she goes into full on panic mode? It’s a sight to behold I can tell you. Folks if you are throwing a Halloween party ever and you invite Mama J please remember to play that song either before she arrives or after she’s left. We don’t want a melt down over the bobbing apples do we?
   Anyway my meltdown happened as Grandpa and I strolled up to the tree just at the bottom of our road. Grandpa let my extendible lead go loose for me to go look around the tree in an anti-clock wise motion (the devil’s in the detail my friends) just as coming in a clock wise motion (are you still with me here folks with the clock settings? No one please reply, “I use a digital clock” though as it will ruin my story) was a squirrel! We both jumped out of our skins as if we’d been plugged into the national grid and had had a surge of power running through our veins and then Grandpa jumped too for good measures and in a slight moment of panic at what might happen next.
   As all three of us collected our thoughts, the squirrel and I were still nose to nose (now this is a new animal to be “friends” with) and it was a moment of who would blink first. It was the squirrel as he turned his body by 180 degrees and shot up the tree to a good vantage point on a branch far enough away from my possible baying lips.
   I stood astounded for a minute at what had just happened and was only pulled out of my squirrel based trance by Grandpa trying to move me on from the tree. However by this point I wanted to know where that bloody squirrel had gone off to and why he didn’t want to be my “friend”?
   We continued our walk down the lane but on our way back I was still affronted by the squirrels bad manners (okay I might have wanted to eat him eventually but I didn’t give off too much of those vibes initially) at my kind offer of friendship. Honestly the natural world isn’t what it used to be or how it’s depicted in The Jungle Book!
On Thursday evening Granny couldn’t be bothered with cooking dinner and seen as my family were going to see our former neighbours in their new home (we still don’t know why they would ever not want to live next door to us anymore) they decided take-away fish and chips were the order of the evening.
   About half an hour after devouring the fish and chips Mama J went upstairs to re-touch her makeup and Granny and Grandpa did the washing up. As they were finishing the dishes Granny’s belly started cramping and she thought she’d better go to the toilet. Okay folks that is as vulgar as it gets as this isn’t toilet humour we are plugging here, I’d never be so crude about my very lady like Granny either.
   Anyway the next thing for poor Granny after her failed mission in the toilet was to roll around the bed with her legs tucked up to her tummy to try and make herself comfy and ease the excruciating pain she was now in.
   Grandpa was like the male equivalent of Florence Nightingale, think a younger version of Casualty’s Charlie Fairhead as he ran glasses of water, Gaviscon and pain relief up and down the stairs. At one point he thought he was going to have to call a proper Doctor out (his characterisation of Charlie Fairhead really wasn’t up to standard) or take Granny to A&E. 
   In the meantime as Granny was still in a lot of pain the decision was made that my families evening out should be cancelled until this Wednesday evening. As Grandpa rang to tell them why they wouldn’t be coming, Mama J and I sat in the relatives room (our living room doubles up as this in times of worry) with the telly off. We were so worried about poor Granny that we missed the first Emmerdale entirely.
   We put the television on as Eastenders started as Charlie sorry Grandpa said Granny was feeling much better and then about half way through the miserable show (come on people it is but doesn’t it make your lives seem so much better) Granny emerged cramp free and as if nothing had happened.
   Seen as Grandpa and Mama J were all right with the fish and chips we’ve just put it down to something they were fried in that didn’t agree with Granny’s stomach.
   On a positive note though I wasn’t left for the evening while they went galavanting, so every cloud eh?

Monday, 27 February 2017


It is a wet and grey day here in North Yorkshire and I have just been snuggled up on Mama J’s lap having my furry face stroked whilst repeatedly giving her my paw to also gently caress. Life is good chilling here but I’m definitely stalling for motivation for this post to kick here today. Yes, even I a great Comedienne in a black and tan fur shaggy coat needs divine inspiration some days. Right Elsie (that’s me giving myself a kick up the proverbial) come on, let’s commence with the funny today!
It was Mama J’s lovely friend’s birthday last Tuesday and seen as she has been so kind towards me and Mama J, especially in supportive comments towards my blog (she’s got impeccable taste in the pawed written word that one) we wanted to show our appreciation and organised her a beautiful bouquet of flowers to be delivered. I even placed my paw on the key pad and selected the flowers I wanted to send (I’m a clever and extremely decisive flower ordering dog) then paid for them with my doggie treats (okay with Mama J’s debit card as I don’t think the Florist would take the Pooch and Mutt method of payment).
   On Tuesday when Mama J returned home from work we were disappointed that the delivery company hadn’t been able to deliver the flowers. We couldn’t even arrange for them to be re-delivered for the next day so Thursday was the new designated date for delivery.
   Thursday came and an email was sent from the delivery company to say the flowers had been delivered, yippee… Or so we thought! 
   Mama J text her friend who was now excitedly visiting her family for more birthday celebrations, to get her to get her partner to open the flowers so they could be placed in a vase of water for her to enjoy on her return. On doing this she received a text back to say no flowers had been delivered to her house or even the neighbours. The hunt for flowers not the Easter bunny was on!
   Mama J sent a very disgruntled email (oh she was giving them it with both barrels and I was hiding behind the sofa as she grumbled on in keyboard form) of compliant to get the reply of a picture of a shed with some boxed flowers in it. Mystery solved… Or so again we thought!
   On forwarding the picture of said shed to her friend it turns out that this was not the correct shed! Whose shed was this? Where are the flowers? Why did numpty Courier not put a card through Mama J’s friend’s door to say where they had left said flowers? Why didn’t they put them in a shed on Tuesday instead of having to re-deliver? Will the flowers ever be found? What state will they be in? There are so many questions to be answered here that I think this could be an off shoot storyline on tonight opening episode of Broadchurch. David Tennant and Olivia Colman please help us in our quest to locate the missing flowers!
We have been stressed out (I’m having to learn breathing techniques to calm myself down and saying a lot of, “Um’s!” and “Ah’s!”) as a family over the past few weeks. No, this isn’t due to workmen who don’t email back with quotes. Please don’t get me started, I’m already reeling with flower gate, that would send me over the edge! This is all to do with the England Rugby teams latest Six Nations campaign.
   They have put me, my family and the whole watching nation through the ringer every weekend they have played. My family have been shouting, screaming, hiding behind cushions and even not daring to turn the telly back on after the half time whistle has been blown.
   Yes, yesterday afternoon Granny and Grandpa whipped me out for my second walk of the day then lived in pure fear of pressing the big red button at the top of our remote control and seeing what was happening on the Rugby pitch. Fear not my beautiful family England were now winning and indeed won the game. 
   However this is a plea to Eddie Jones and his team of players, “Mr Jones and your wonderfully skilled chaps, please don’t give my family and the rest of the supportive nation a coronary next time you play. Win and win well in a calm and relaxed manner for all of us watching. On a personal note Mr Jones, I don’t want the black parts of my Yorkshire Terrier hair turning grey because of your on pitch performance. Thank you and good luck.”
Lastly I must say a huge congratulations to La La Land on winning the Oscar for Best Picture at last night’s ceremony… What do you mean they didn’t win it? I saw Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway and heard the announcement with my own pointy ears. Yes, folks this is todays fake news. Donald Trump must’ve been in his element watching the ceremony as the fake news phenomenon has moved from Washington DC all the way to “La La Land” Hollywood.

There we go people, I feel much better now I’ve got all that off my Yorkshire Terrier chest. Follow my therapeutic advice, express not repress!

Monday, 20 February 2017


I shouted loudly as I awoke this morning, “Hip, hip hooray! I can see!” So okay I hadn’t lost my sight entirely but until yesterday morning I couldn’t fully see where I was going. I was walking into the sofa, the dining room table and trees (gosh an oak really is a might tree to do battle with) whilst out on my walks. However this isn’t an add-on to the Eastenders Dot Branning storyline, although I do think one of the soaps could highlight the doggie version of temporary blindness as a dramatic plot line. However my storyline isn’t from a soap opera, I just needed the fur around my eyes trimming.
   My styling team, which girl on earth doesn’t want a team to call her own? Yes, mine is my Granny and Grandpa and they are very good at giving my fur a once over new look. Grandpa was in charge of keeping me calm and feeding me lots of scrumptious doggie chocolate drops (good job Mama J was at work otherwise she’d be begging for the drop or five as well) whilst I sat and stood on the dining room table as Granny snipped away at my fluffy bits. I know it’s not very hygienic however my small Yorkshire Terrier stature makes it difficult to trim me anywhere else in the house. I better add here that Granny dusted and vacuumed up right afterwards just in case How Clean Is Your House’s Kim Woodburn and Aggie MacKenzie happen to read this post and think we are filthy beggars!
   Granny chopped and preened my fur not just with some average paper cutting scissors (Mama J has trimmed her fringe with those types of scissors in the past, please don’t tell her Hairdresser) but with my very own hairdressing thinning scissors as well as Grandpa’s clippers. My fur is being styled by the best scissors/clippers in the business, naturally for a loved and glamorous girl such as myself. 
   Following my chop (haircut wise of course this isn’t a new version of Nightmare On Elm Street with Granny playing the role of Frederica Krueger), it was up to the bath for the next session of my pampering day. Granny wet my fur with warm water and then massaged in my specialist dog shampoo and it foamed up all over my body. No pictures were taken (or ever will be as I’m going to get myself insured on this matter. If it is good enough for Cristiano Ronaldo legs it is good enough for me) of me in this state as I look like a scary drowned rat instead of my beautiful everyday look. After a rinse a radiator warmed towel was rubbed against me. I then ran downstairs to roll around the sofa to dry myself off further in my usual crazy manner.
I should really have got my hair done prior to Valentine’s Day as it might have increased my chances of gaining cards and gifts. Mama J and now my trucks must be driving around the countryside with our wares in their boots. Mama J’s truck has seventeen years worth of treats in it so will be collapsing now with the weight of all those cards, flowers and fluffy teddy bears. We are blaming our house for having a name and not a number above its door. Never mind the fact that every other delivery finds us no bother at all. It’s a conspiracy against love we think.
   I have struck up a friendship with a new Labrador on our street named Billy. His family moved into the village last autumn and I was a little bit frosty towards him at first (a lady should always play it cool to keep the boys on their paw pads) but just recently we have become firm friends.
   Billy’s Mum was walking him the other day and seems to very much approve of our friendship as she gave me a couple of yummy treats to show she was on side too. I’m hoping a play date (I’ll share my ever expanding toy basket with Billy of course) will be on the cards next to help develop our friendship further.
   Now Watson of course is still my favourite boy as he was so welcoming towards me when I moved into the village but it is always great to have friendships with a variety of local pooches.

Saturday, 11 February 2017


Here I am! Yes, I know I’m two days early in posting but I really must tell you all about the miracles (okay they are weenie minor occurrences in most peoples lives) that have happened since I last blogged. This Yorkshire Terrier is dead excited, can’t you tell?
Mama J has reached the dizzying heights of having an organised life. You didn’t think I was going to say she’d conquered the grand scale of Mount Everest over this two week period did you? Remember we are still working on her putting one foot in front of another and gliding swiftly and effortlessly (yes that means with ease and grace Mama J) across the pavements in our vicinity.
   Mama J has bought herself (the drama is palpable here) a diary and an address book! Okay you can stop those drums rolling now please, my ears drums are buzzing like a city centre filled with drunken revellers on a Saturday night. I know most people have all their data such as diary dates of interest and contact information stored on their mobile phones these days but our Mama J likes to keep the stationery sector going in a traditional old school manner. Well, that’s my reasoning behind it all and my way of thinking Mama J is keeping the economy afloat following the Brexit leave vote last summer. Mama J’s reasoning is that having all this information stored in her mobile phone eats not so elegantly into her data and watching it going down was starting to bring her out in full scale panic followed on by a heat filled anxiety rash. Crack open that address book and diary, grab a pen and start writing Mama J, we can’t have you having data filled panic attacks can we?
   On receiving her new diary and address book Mama J proceeded to fill them in using her finest handwriting skills. I say started as after a few hours (yes Mama J knows an awful lot of people and their vital statistics) of penning peoples information down and popping in her holiday dates her handwriting turned from almost legible (she writes like an eight year old at the best of times) to spider scrawling across the page at the end of her mammoth data entry session.
   Now Mama J’s organised I do fear that she maybe taking things too far as at 10.47am every day she jumps up and goes to the toilet for a wee. Then she goes into the kitchen and ticks it off in her diary to say that she’s been!
Last Friday evening the ice age hit our lives. Don’t worry you haven’t missed out on some apocalyptic event while watching the six o’clock News. This event only hit three people and an extremely cute Yorkshire Terrier, who were plunged by a faulty boiler into realms of coldness they’ve never felt before. Okay so Mama J did ride a horse in temperatures of minus fourteen before but she’s an absolute loony so that really doesn’t count.
   Yes, on Friday evening Grandpa said to Granny enquiringly, “Why isn’t the heating on?” On checking the boiler all the lights were off (well apart from a very telling yellow warning light that is) and it wasn’t playing its usual show tune. On pressing the yellow reset button the boiler would fire up for five minutes then not work. They tried this a few times, as well it works so hard and may need a rest, only to be met with the same issue, the boiler wasn’t performing that night and its show Director okay the Plumber needed a call.
   Grandpa found our trusty Plumber’s number and dialled it with such gusto to be told, “I’m just packing to go on holiday for eight days.” Our Plumber is fantastic and knows our heating system inside out, however he’s an extremely galavanting man. Let’s just say he’s a work to live kind of a guy and we definitely needed this to be the opposite way round in our moment of crisis.
   He did say that a part may have gone and advised Grandpa where to find this part and how to fit it (yes because my Grandpa really is a Super Mario Brother). On sourcing the part early Saturday morning and fitting it, Grandpa fired the boiler up for all of ten minutes (our timings were improving ever so marginally. The Great British Cycling Team would be so impressed with our marginal gains) then it died a death again.
   The next thing we did was ring a twenty-four hotline boiler repair company. Their twenty-four response is obviously on a different time scale to ours, as we are still waiting for a call back from them a week later.
   Grandpa had one more solution while we all shivered and shook our way through the weekend and that was a clay pigeon shooting buddy of his who is a Heating Engineer. Chris visited our home at 5.35pm on Monday evening and he has been given the title of this weeks Miracle Man. He had worked out the solenoid had gone and replaced it with a new one and after a nervous minutes wait the boiler fired up and has continued in its mission to fire up ever since.
   I have stopped wandering around like a chilly snow woman in my largest hoodie coat and the irreplaceable in our lives blow heats have gone away back into the loft. The only thing we do need our Plumber to take a look at when he returns from his latest holiday auditioning for the role of Dirty Dancing’s Johnny Castle (yes he likes to shimmy his way around the dance floor) is the fact that when the boiler isn’t firing up all the lights are off, even the power one. Is it just that my family is now totally boiler obsessed and it has always done this or do we have another heating crisis waiting to happen?
The last miracle happened yesterday lunchtime when Mama J found the Holy Grail!  You may remember in January me telling you all about Mama J’s quest to find the perfect red handbag and that she didn’t have any luck in finding one better than her pink Fossil one. You may also remember her in the end giving up and getting a black one, in the same style as her pink one.
   Well, yesterday while on a shopping trip with Granny the pair decided to go into Fossil and there almost with a glistening halo over it on the shelf was a perfectly different but equally pocket filled red handbag. Mama J’s eyes lit up as she and Granny looked around the bag in pure wonderment. Mama J walked grinning as she stepped to the counter and purchased her new bag. She then wandered around the rest of the shopping centre exclaiming, “It is fate! It is destiny! It is a bloody miracle!” 
   See folks the moral of this story is that when you stop really wanting/looking for something it always turns up. So Mama J doesn’t want to own a Porsche or indeed want to win the lottery, no not ever!

Monday, 30 January 2017


I made Mama J RUN! Yes, that really is a statement and a half but it is exactly what happened last Monday afternoon, whether Mama J wanted it to or not.
   Granny and Grandpa went out to look at an Everhot cooking and heating system for our kitchen re-design that’s happening later this year followed by a cheeky pub lunch (how come I never get invited for some yummy nosh) leaving Mama J and I to our own devices. When Mama J put her coat on I said to myself in my Yorkshire up Dale accent, “Here we go again. I’m about to be left for a spot of clothes shopping.” Then Mama J grabbed my tartan coat, harness and lead out of the cupboard and I realised we were going for a walk. Aww I knew there was a reason I loved my Mama J so much. Yes, okay you can have a sick bucket if you so desire, I’m getting too gushy mushy I know.
   As we headed out the door I was pulling right to go on mine and Mama J’s usual route down the village however Mama J had other ideas and took me to her car. Oh dear we aren’t off to the Vets again are we? As we headed towards the neighbouring village I realised this a trip of pure pleasure for me instead of an annoying medical trip. Yippee!
   When we got to the next village I got so excitable as Mama J was getting me out of the car I nearly pulled her arm out of its socket. Well, that’s what Diva Mama said would happen being the medical expert that she is. 
   Now this is where my pure joy for fun took over me. I think it was the sunshine that made me feel all hedonistic (don’t worry I was high on life not narcotic drugs) but as we walked down the road I wanted to feel the breeze blowing more swiftly through my wild strawberry blonde locks. The sheer pleasure came over me in a massive wave and I wanted to run, yes RUN faster and faster! I took off strutting my stuff with Mama J trotting and trying ever so hard to keep up behind me shouting, “ELSIE SLOW DOWN! ELISE PLEASE SLOW DOWN! MUMMY CAN’T COPE!” As I looked back Mama J was huffing and puffing and her face was going the shade of a British post box, red ever so red indeed. I thought to myself that I better slow down as I’m really enjoying myself today and I want more fun walks with Mama J in the future. Also I want Mama J to just still be alive after this experience!
   Mama J’s skin tone returned to its usual shade of healthy pink plus her heart rate scaled back down shortly after we stopped running around the village. She confessed to me when we got home that she hadn’t ran anywhere since she left school… Oh that was almost twenty-one years ago now. Ah yes think I better go gently with her exercise routine in future. Remember slowly, slowly catchy Elsie, sorry monkey. What did Mama J just mouth at me? I am the monkey! She’s a cheeky monkey too but as we found out last week she can’t catch me just yet so I don’t have to be so liberal with my language. That doesn’t mean I’ll be going all Donald Trump with my outbursts though so you needn’t worry.
After a few stressful walks with Granny and Grandpa, for them not me, to do with my behaviour it has been decided that I need to make more doggie friends in the village. No, I don’t get a say in this but it is going to happen whether I want it to or not.
   Mama J consulted the oracle otherwise known as Google and she came up with, wait for this, I’m building the anticipation as I type, doggie hypnosis! I’ll just call Paul McKenna and see what he can do for me. It will go something like this, “Look into my eyes. Yes, into my eyes not around my eyes and sleep! You will be the wonderment of calmness and joy whilst out on your walks. You will spread joy to all you meet, both humans and dogs alike. You WILL (see the emphasis on that word) make friends with every dog you come across. One two three and wide awake!” 
   This isn’t the only thing that could help me in my quest for pooch friendship as the oracle that is Google also said to combine hypnosis with classical music. I’m more of an Eminem girl than a Mozart fan coming from the mean city streets in my previous life so I will need to tune into a different musical beat. Mama J then scoured iTunes and found two gems entitled Canine Lullabies and Canine Classical Dog Music. These albums are meant to have a calming influence over dogs as their pitch and tone is akin with a pooches ear for sound.
   So on Saturday night when I was already chilling out watching Will.I.AM’s whacky antics on this seasons The Voice my ear drums were infected by Mama J playing Mary Had A Little Lamb through her iPhone. I didn’t care about Mary or her bloody Lamb nor did I care about London Bridge falling down, sorry residents of London I know you maybe affected if you are cut off from your homes but I just wanted to watch The Voice. 
   Mama J was enthusiastic though as she found a song entitled Furry Elsie. This is it, it’s a sign, a beacon of light from the universe. Furry Elsie was going to chill out furry Elsie. I do actually feel most honoured to have a song named after me. I mean before Kaiser Chief’s wrote Ruby or Dire Straits penned Romeo and Juliet there was indeed Furry Elsie. Okay Mama J if I have my very own song I guess I could try getting in the zone and giving this classical music a go. Grandpa also found me one of his classical music albums that is meant to be relaxing in its theme.
   Now we can play the classical music in the house, I get how that would work in calming me down but am I going to get a pair of headphones small enough to fit my Yorkshire Terrier head and ears? Granny suggested a bandana with earphones strapped in. Oh how cool will I look strutting my stuff? Every dog will want a pair, I’m such a groovy trend setter. However Mama J’s old school suggestion of a ghetto blaster on her shoulder was just as cool a look. People do I go retro or move with the times in my playing of Furry Elsie?
I'll be away until Monday 13th February 2017 while I get used to the hypnotic sounds of classical music. I maybe in a zen like state when I return. Start humming and chanting with me now!