I’d like to say a massive, “Congratulations!” to Ore Oduba on his and partner Joanne Clifton’s Strictly Come Dancing win at the weekend. His jive was sublimely brilliant and the improvement in his skill set through the competition was second to none. 
   However Mama J, Granny and Grandpa were all rooting for Danny Mac, as they felt he was the more accomplished dancer throughout all the weeks and at most times looked like a professional. Grandpa and Mama J were frantically voting for Danny and Oti on Saturday evening. They both used up their six Internet votes (the BBC were so generous and my family loved it) but at times it was a hair raising experience. Mama J couldn’t remember her BBC password and this vote, well it mattered, oh yes it really mattered!
   Once she was signed in after resetting her password, it was like she was a contestant on Countdown (everyone sing along to the Countdown clock music if you wish) and she managed to register her final vote just as Tess and Claudia announced the lines were now closed. I think phew would’ve being one of the Countdown words she would’ve come up with when the clock went boom.
   My family were slightly disappointed that Danny didn’t win, however they did vote so felt they could have a little moan about the result, unlike those that didn’t bother voting at all. I know who you are and Mama J will be paying you a visit! Just kidding!
   When I say Mama J had a little moan, she was very conservative in comparison to when Chris Fountain lost the Dancing On Ice final to Suzanne Shaw. This was a travesty in our house on the grandest scale. Mama J was so appalled by the 2008 final that she ranted on about it every year until the programme was taken off air. Everyone please blame Mama J for the popular show being removed from the January to March schedule. I think the producers heard her cries and got bored of listening to them every single year from there on in.
   Mama J’s shock was about the fact that Suzanne did too much flying and not enough actual skating in the flying section. It was meant to be Dancing On Ice not Flying On Ice! Mama J is going red in the face (think Eastenders Phil Mitchell prior to the jaundice look he has today) again while she’s explaining this to me for me to tell you about. I wasn’t even born when all this happened and even Marble was just a twinkle in his Mother’s eye, so it was poor Wesley that had to endure the Dancing On Ice hardship of that year’s outcome.
   I’ve got one thing to say to you Mama J and here it goes, “Move on! It was 2008 you sad woman!” Too harsh? Well, you’ve got to be cruel to be kind and seen as Mama J will be giving herself a Christmas hernia if she continues with this ice inspired rage, it definitely needs saying in a brutal Donald Trump manner.
All the Christmas presents are wrapped in our house. I didn’t offer Granny any help as fur (sorry I’m a Yorkshire Terrier I have hair, now there’s a gem of information for you. See you’ve learned something reading this blog, I could be a teacher on the next series of Educating Yorkshire) and sticky backed plastic don’t really mix too well together. “Here’s one I made earlier!” will not be an expression I will ever be making on the Blue Peter gift wrapping front. I better reject that offer of a presenting job on that programme, although they do always have a very cute pooch in the studio, a role that I would be very well equipped to fill. Mama J will help me send out my tweaked curriculum vitae later. Social media starlet? Big tick already! Now where’s my Blue Peter badge?
Thank you for all your support this year especially when Marble pawed over responsibility of this blog. I hope I rose well to the comedy challenge and you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it. All that’s left for me to do is wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I be back early 2017 with more Doggie’s Doing A Comedy Turn!


So Mama J who gets stressed out by little things at the best of times, has had to deal with some BIG (for her, minor for everyone else) first world issues… Tesco have done away with their Takeaway Texas BBQ Chicken Pizza!
   Mama J has spun so far off course due to this issue that she is now sitting on the moon. Everyone wave to the skies and shout and ask, “Hello when are you making your way home?”  I need cuddles from Mama J and her arms don’t stretch all the way from the moon. 
   The issue was first highlighted when Granny went into Tesco to get Mama J her fix (Granny sounds like some drug dealing baroness) only to find a replacement (minus its pot of BBQ flavoured wonderment) pizza in the fridge. Granny worriedly (for Mama J’s belly) questioned the member of staff filling up the fridges who said this was the new improved version. Granny came into the house looking sheepish (just what had she been up to at the supermarket? Did she flirt with the male Checkout Operator on duty) and told Mama J of Tesco’s pizza altering misdemeanour. Oh dear a look of pure pain was etched over Mama J’s face like she’d fallen over Weeble style and broken her leg. She nervously pulled herself back from the brink and together again, smiled and then agreed to try this new improved pizza that evening.
    Mama J and Grandpa were served up with the new improved BBQ pizza (who the hell stole Texas) to try. Grandpa is a bit like a human trash can, in the fact that if it’s edible he will eat it, all up! Mama J has a more discerning (okay darn right picky/fussy) palate and tasted it like she was a judge on Master Chef or was replacing Mary Berry as the new Great British Bake Off supremo. Hey Mama J I think that is too taller an order even for you. Mary is an absolute floral jacket wearing legend!
   As for Mama J’s critique well it wasn’t a favourable one at all, sorry Tesco. She said the base now tasted of cardboard. Yes, Mama J does actually have a rough idea what cardboard tastes like, as when she used to get her penny sweets from the newsagents round the corner from where my family used to live, her and her right hand man/next door neighbour Richard used to eat the paper bags too. They were such cultured children. They even used to eat doggie chocolate drops. Right Mama J now you’ve just confessed to that, you will have to be supervised by Granny or Grandpa when giving me Pooch and Mutt treats. I don’t want you gobbling them up, you cheeky thing! As well as the new and improved (yeah right) pizza tasting of cardboard all the flavour of the BBQ sauce was nearly gone too. Oh and there’s some weird brown stuff on it that tastes odd. I’m sure Mary Berry would give you a more comprehensive critique on the brown stuffs flavour but to Mama J it just tastes odd!
   So the search for a second holy grail of Texas (I swear that’s what it’s lost out on) BBQ pizza is now most firmly on in this house, as Mama J’s belly is grumbling for her weekly serving of half a pizza. Yes, tiny Mama J could devour that much of it all in one sitting. Along with her Granny lasagne large sized portions, I’m surprised she’s not taking up sumo wrestling. Now Mama J get your nappy now and be ready to fight. 
   This pizza must come from a supermarket though as Dominos and our local take away shop are a bit too over budget for a weekly fix of Mama J’s pizza habit. Wish her luck in doing her Lord Sugar style search for her next Apprentice/sorry pizza.

Mama J’s second first world issue (oh yes this girls got real problems, inside her head) came about when she went in the shower and was attempting to get glossy hair by putting a Kerastaste deep conditioning treatment on. Mama J’s hair is golden blonde so she may have her work cut out on the glossy front unless she did a Sunset Beach and turned all the lights on full blast to give it the full glossy effect. 
   Anyway the treatment went on and then we all heard a crash and then lots of expletives that I being a lady with such high vocabulary standards will not be repeating on here, or anywhere else for that matter. Then we heard Mama J scraping the shower floor like nails running down a blackboard. She was trying to get the treatment back into the pot she’d just dropped while attempting to get the lid back on. Mama J was like a contestant on The Crystal Maze game show, however instead of trying to collect gold and silver tickets in the allocated forty-seconds (okay the time the treatment was washed away down the plug hole of doom forever) she was trying to gather up the very expensive treatment that was smearing all over the shower floor.
   Once she had gathered as much as was humanly possible and put it back in the jar then came another even more exciting problem for Mama J to encounter, this game wasn’t on The Crystal Maze’s course but was more akin to Dancing On Ice. Yes, now the shower floor had turned into an ice skating arena and Mama J was no Jayne Torvill. She was more like Todd Carty and she was screaming, “Oh! Ah! Help I need somebody!” Mama J had created Bambi On Ice mark two as she was sliding around with the shower hose firmly focused on the floor trying to aid her in her quest for stability.
   The shower was turned off after Mama J’s treatment had been on five minutes longer than its allotted time limit was washed off. Mama J came shakily out and vowed not to give ice skating a go should she want to try a new sporting activity in the New Year.


So today I’m going to get a whole lot sentimental (I should issue a free packet of tissues to all readers of this post) and some parts of my blog are going to be shouted very loudly from my roof top soap box. You have been warned! Although please don’t worry as I’m not an angry bird, (I’ll leave that to the highly addictive gaming app) my message is strong and comes from a very knowing and good place in my heart.
   Two years ago today I wasn’t laying on a leather Chesterfield sofa with luxurious tartan cushions to support and comfort my happy body. I didn’t have a multitude of coats for all weather types (yes Mama J knows that I’m a fully fledged fashionista) to keep my body snug and dry on my wonderful fun filled walks. I didn’t have toys galore to run around with and squeak as I pleased. I wasn’t given treats of the chicken, cheese or Pooch and Mutt variety every time I ran into the kitchen and stared at the cupboard and fridge doors where they are stored, thanks Marble for teaching me that trick before you passed. Not to mention I didn’t get to devour Granny’s lasagne every fortnight, yummy!  Also I wasn’t given hugs, kisses and a loving lap to rest my head on. 
   I was in an RSPCA rescue centre as my previous owner couldn’t take me with him when he had to move homes and my life was pretty miserable. I’d had my lady reproductive organs removed plus four bad teeth extracted. However before you reach for the gin bottle (I fancy a glass or five myself writing this downbeat start to this post) my story had the happiest outcome possible. Two years ago today I met my family and ten days after that I came from the mean streets of the city to my luxury country abode, where I get all the home comforts mentioned from my fabulous family.
   Yes, two years ago today Mama J having just lost her Harlequin Dutch lunatic of a rabbit, Cedric three days previous set about a search for a Yorkshire Terrier dog to live as a companion with the families handsome Cocker Spaniel, Marble.

She wanted a Yorkshire Terrier (good girl Mama J, Yorkshire is always best) as her former next door neighbours had such a lovely Yorkie named Lucy when she was growing up, the memories of how lovely Lucy was had stuck with her for all these years. A massive thank you to Lucy for being so awesome, I owe you a great debt of gratitude for the life I have today. My breeds temperament was also marvellous for my families needs and lifestyle. 
   After searching websites such as Pets4Homes and a mixture of rescue sites in the area for a few days, that fateful (for all concerned) Friday morning my image popped up on the local RSPCA website and Grandpa was set the task of ringing up for more information about me. My profile said I was loving, kind and got on well with other dogs. All very fine attributes in a dog. My family including Marble all drove there and then to the rescue centre to meet me. There was some concern as Marble hadn’t been neutered but at then almost 7 years old, it did seem a little unfair to put him through surgery when he was such a warm and gentle soul just to follow a recommendation. However the Manager of the centre after my Granny getting upset (she knew the loving life she and the rest of my family could offer me) allowed us a meeting and we got on famously well in the socialisation room. I was after a home visit, ten days and a lots of phone calls from my eager family to the centre later, on my way from the rescue centre to my new wonderful home.
   Two years on and I’m a Blogger with all the trappings of a social media lifestyle, thanks to Marble pawing over the reigns of his blog just before he died in February. So here I go on my soap box, this is my Eva (Evita) Peron moment, paw gestures and all, just to say if you can offer a dog/cat/rabbit/guinea pig/gerbil/parrot/snake/horse or any other type of animal I’ve forgotten to mention a loving home akin to the one I have today, then big PLEASE go down to your local rescue centre today and adopt. Mama J and I promise it will be the greatest move you’ll ever make. Alternatively if you are wanting a specific type of animal or breed, as I know certain animals and breeds suit different lifestyles better than others then please go to a reputable breeder.
   Okay that’s my preaching sermon over with for today. Thank you so much for reading this as it’s so important to me that all those beautiful animals, specifically the ones in rescue centres get a loving home as excellent as the one I have today.


Mama J has been on another holiday from work this week and I was left in strict charge of her when Granny and Grandpa went away over night. That meant I could give her “the stare” and order walks on tap and demand parts of chicken from her Marks and Spencer's chicken pie. Ah the perks of being the boss lady. I might get a tattoo just like Tulisa’s saying, “Boss Lady!” it’s only right and proper, don’t you agree?
   Everything was going so well as Mama J had taken me out for our afternoon stroll. Although it was a wet one on Tuesday afternoon the breeze through my Terrier hair was divine. Following on from that and our pie, I had my usual Lily’s Kitchen and Chappie mix first so the pie was pudding for me, we settled down for the soaps and then it was wee time (for both of us although I do mine in the yard instead of in the comfort of an ensuite) and bed. 
   I was all fine at first as Granny and Grandpa go out quite often for evening meals with their many friends, leaving Mama J and I to our own devices. Rave time? Not anymore we girls prefer our Tuesday night Holby City fix along with lots of lovely sofa cuddles. It’s hardly Ibiza Uncovered in our house!
   At 10.00pm the landing light timer switched the light off so that made me jump to protective attention and run onto the landing to see if we had burglars. Unfortunately for Mama J, David Gandy was not stood in our hallway in his M&S underpants and there was no one else there for me to say a fearsome, “HELLO!” too either. I settled down again until 11.50pm when I like every other granddaughter waiting patiently for their grandparents to return from their day/night out began to worry and pace the landing demanding their return. I now know what it feels like for parents whose children have gone to the pub for the first time. Have they been abducted by aliens? That was of course the next fully rational thought that ran through my mind, as it does! I cooed and sat half way up the stairs. Oh dear I was turning into Robin The Frog from The Muppets. Shall I start singing, “Half way down the stairs?” Mama J heard my cries and poked her head over the bannister and asked me, “Elsie what are you doing there?” When I didn’t answer but just kept staring at the fan light for Grandpa’s missing Freelander 2, Mama J moved to the top of the stairs and persuaded me to come back to bed saying in a gentle manner, “Granny and Grandpa are in Durham for the night, they’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Don’t worry I’m here to look after you.” Now this Durham place is that a local restaurant that stays open all night? Granny and Grandpa aren’t much of all night ravers either these days. Anyway I was reassured and joined Mama J in bed for the rest of the night. 
   Anyway they did return the next day as Mama J had promised they would and I got lots of cuddles from them, so they were forgiven for making me worry as to their whereabouts. I was about to call Sigourney Weaver as I believe she’s very good at handling aliens! 
So I just like Frankenstein have created something of a monster just in the walking department and not in a fearsome horror based spectre as you’d expect. Just call me Frankie-Elsie Stein-Chelton for this wonderfully step charged mood that Mama J has acquired. 
   Mama J will be taking on charity events next akin with what Davina McCall did for Comic Relief a few years back. Although these charity events better just be of the walking variety as unlike Davina the only bike Mama J could ever ride, her trusty Stinger Aero is now only found in a museum. Yes, Mama J tried to find a version of her old BMX on the internet and found she could only pay to look at it but could never ride it again. When Mama J moved up to a better fitting (for her size) mountain bike she ended up going her bum sores as she slid backwards onto the back wheel, ouch what a burning sensation I bet that was!

Swimming isn’t Mama J’s thing either as I don’t think armbands or a rubber ring would look very good in a triathlon style event. Yes, definitely a walking challenge then. How about the Three Peaks next summer? Mama J is looking a little green around the gills just now. Think I’ll have to work on my motivational techniques some more for that one. 
   As well as taking me out more regularly which I always enjoy, Mama J went out for a walk without me on Friday afternoon. I was a little jealous as she went around some local gardens which are haven for tourists and residents alike. She came home telling tales of seeing squirrels and ducklings as well as other dogs. Ah now I was cross as I could’ve had fun showing them who was boss. 
   This all happened as Mama J was so early to meet her lovely friend for a cuppa and a good chinwag. She had already been to an antiques fair, (oh yes Mama J is getting cultured in her old age. She’ll be buying tat like Granny and Grandpa do next) a supermarket where she told two of her regular customers they hadn’t seen her, (this was a rival supermarket to the one where Mama J works nudge, nudge, wink, wink) a pet shop, (presents for me yippee. Please see my new fabulous friends at the start of this blog) an art gallery (more culture, you could have your own arty TV show at this rate) and then the gardens. There’s no wonder Mama J enjoyed a sit down and a cuppa after doing all that lot. 
   Mind you I must say that the walk around the gardens happened by default as Mama J parked her car near where she thought was the side entrance to the gardens only to walk to the main entrance and then have to walk the full circuit, only to finally realise that if she’d walked up the road about 5 metres she could’ve gone into the gardens and enjoyed a slight shorter stroll than she had.
   Also yesterday my family met some friends for lunch in our local city centre and more walking ensued. Due to the car parks being full of Christmas shoppers Grandpa had to park the car on the outskirts of the city centre. Mama J walked part of the way with Granny to meet Grandpa. I reckon that all the walking must’ve taken its toll on Mama J’s body though as she couldn’t get in the car when Grandpa picked them up. She was like Absolutely Fabulous’s Patsy and Edina, arms and legs flapping about after one of their drink sessions. Now come on Mama J was it really just iced water you were drinking with your chicken burger? 

I had a visit to the Vets the other week for my six monthly epilepsy blood tests. Mama J and Granny instructed the Vet to muzzle me. Mama J obviously liked seeing me doing my impression of Hannibal Lecter so much last time I went, she thought it would be highly entertaining to see it again. They’ll have me on stage next saying the word chianti! Anyway the Vet duly obliged Mama J’s whims, I reckon this was due to his hand already been in a bandage from another animal encounter. That or he’d just started boxing classes and his punching technique needs some improvement. My blood test came back just fine and the Vet examined a little lump on my belly that my family had noticed a few weeks prior to my appointment when they were rubbing my tummy in a loving way. The lump wasn’t attached the Vet said so probably wasn’t anything sinister. Mama J is under strict instructions to keep a watchful eye on it just incase it grows and has to be removed. Although he did say he wasn’t too concerned about it, phew!

My family really enjoyed watching Danny Dyer on, “Who Do You Think you Are?” the other night. Just like his Eastenders alter ego Mick Carter who he obviously tones himself down to play, Danny Dyer is a full on extra Cockney geezer! One of the entertaining parts of his fascinating family tree documentary was when he discovered that one of his relatives lives in a manor house with a drawbridge. He shouted out, “Geezers got a drawbridge!” Then was him saying to a Historian, “You could’ve a right rave up in here babe!” Anyway this tale took on many twists and turns including the fact that Mr Dyer is a direct descendant of not only Thomas Cromwell and Jane Seymour (no not Dr Quinn Medicine Woman) but also Kind Edward III. He was in his element and his wife was crying out, “I’m a Princess!” at the end as he jokingly told the camera crew to get out of his driveway just like Peggy Mitchell used to tell people to get out of her pub! 
   Mama J woke up on Friday morning and thought to herself, “Did that really happen? Is Danny Dyer really related to King Edward III?” Oh yes Mama J he is!


Last Monday just after lunchtime and Mama J and I were home alone. Mama J is thirty-six years young and I’m seven-ish years old, so please don’t go worrying yourself about our wellbeing and ringing Esther Rantzen at ChildLine. Even Macaulay Culkin grew up decently enough after the perils of being left by his family. Granny and Grandpa were doing their best Chuckle Brothers impressions and completing their decorating duties at Great Granny BB’s former bungalow. Granny is quite the dab hand with a brush and a tin of paint now and what Grandpa doesn’t know about using a roller really isn’t worth worrying about.

So having finished last weeks blog posting earlier than anticipated and having a croissant (I even got a nibble too as Mama J is such a generous soul) for lunch, Mama J thought that a treat was in order for the two of us. Was it in the form of cheese or chicken? Ah a tasty doggie treat morsel or even better a new toy for me to run around the living room with, squeaking it as I went? No, this treat was better than that as it involved a car journey and a beautiful brisk sunny walk (thank goodness she didn’t pick today for our stroll, it’s a wet and cold one here in Yorkshire), oh my Mama J really knows the key to a Yorkshire Terrier’s heart.
   At first I thought just Mama J was going out as she foxed me slightly by popping my lead and harness on and then shutting me in the dining room while she moved her car down the neighbour’s driveway for a little convenience with having me in tow. I told her loudly through the keyhole not to leave me, so noisily that the TV Producers of Keith Lemon’s new version of Through The Keyhole almost called round with a film crew to see if someone famous had been locked up in my house! I’m infamous but will have to work on getting my reader numbers up to take the title of being celebrity famous. Mind you some of these reality television stars don’t tend to show much in the way of having a talent, I’m a Yorkshire Terrier with if I do say so myself an absolute talent for writing an amusing blog tale each week! 

Once Mama J had moved her Mini, Primrose on to the driveway she came back in to get me and in my fury mixed with excitement, I managed to promptly get my lead stuck under the dining room door. Help someone call David Blaine to get me out of this one, I want to go for a walk! Mama J turned into Debbie McGee and managed after having to unclip my lead from my harness (blimey that was a quick and slightly unmemorable walk) to push/pull my lead free from under the door (we were more like the Chuckle Brothers with our, “To me. To you!” than Granny and Grandpa were doing their painting and decorating jobs) With that we were off down the driveway. However as I tried to get to the roadside Mama J stopped me and opened the car door and ushered me onto the passenger seat and then clipped me securely in ready for the ride of my life. Yes! I get to ride up front when Mama J’s doing the driving. Thelma and Louise eat your hearts out… Just minus the cliff scene at the end please Mama J! 

You may recall me telling you a few weeks ago about being able to see the neighbouring village when Mama J took me out for a walk to the end of our village. Yes, I could see it from my Yorkshire Terrier vantage point as I have special powers of seeing through the hedges and undergrowth. Well, Mama J went one further and took me there for a proper wander around with lots of wee wee’s and a pooh to boot. We pulled up in Primrose and what surprised me and absolutely delighted Mama J was the fact that there was no one else around. We wandered through the fallen autumnal leaves that were on the ground, kicking them like school children as we walked and explored every corner of the exclusive estate. Mama J went into Real Mama J Of Yorkshire (it’s a new show where you can still live at home with your parents and don’t have to be a housewife, oh and it only has one star, my Mama J) mode and could envisage living up there and walking me in peace and quiet away from all the usual bark filled encounters I have with all the dogs in our busy village. 
   Once we were done there and Mama J had secured myself and just as importantly my pooh in Primrose we were off again to visit the old part of the village and its beautiful church yard for a slightly eerie walk around there. As we pulled up outside the church we could hear shouting and screaming coming down the lane leading up to the grave yard. I stood to attention and went into protective mode as I wanted to look after my Mama J as well as I could. I maybe little with eight fewer teeth (the joys of being a Yorkshire Terrier with less than perfect Rylan style pearly whites) than I should’ve but I can sure pack a paw shaped punch when necessary. 

Anyway my defensive mood wasn’t necessary at all on this occasion as it turned out that the young lady coming towards us had dementia and was out for an afternoon stroll with her carer. She had got excited as she thought she lived in the cottage next to the church yard and couldn’t understand why her carer wouldn’t let her go up the driveway and into the house. Mama J calmed me down so the lady could give me a little bit of a fuss and then after saying how lovely it was to meet the two ladies we were on our way for a look around the grave yard. Mama J you do take me to some weird and wonderful places.
   As the sun was starting to get lower in the sky leaving the grave yard looking even more spooky than when we entered it, we thought we’d better be on our way home. My constant sniffing reminded Mama J not to forget to take me pooh out of Primrose’s driver door and put it in the bin when we got back. Otherwise what a lovely aroma next time Mama J went out for a spin in her motor!


Not to be outdone by Mama J and Granny’s training regime, last Tuesday morning Grandpa felt my physical prowess in full force (whether he wanted to or not) and could’ve made a natural history documentary to rival Sir David Attenborough’s in the process.
   Grandpa and I were set to go for our morning stroll around the village. I was harnessed and leaded up with my red tartan coat on top. Grandpa had his Barbour coat on and his green Hunter Wellington boots on his feet. Not really an outfit to be taking a jog in but hey you’ve got to be prepared for all eventualities with me around! As he opened the door and we stepped outside I noticed movement from the area of the bird table. Was it a bird? No. Was it a plane? Not unless it was in model form. Was it Superman? Sorry folks there was no red cape or pants worn over tights in my front garden. No, it was Flora the cat waiting for the sparrows to come feast on the nuts and seeds Grandpa had just put out for them.
   On spotting Flora and more importantly Flora spotting me, I began giving chase after her through the open gate and up the grassy embankment towards Mama J’s car. This sudden spurt of energy from me caught my poor Grandpa completely off guard. He hadn’t had chance to secure my lead in his gloved up hands when I was off like a bat out of hell. Meat Loaf you can sing along if you’re reading this. I went faster than any other Yorkshire Terrier had ever gone! However Flora is obviously a descendant of a cheetah and totally out ran me and hot footed it back up her driveway and into the safety of her house without even drawing for breath. 
   As I was slowed down by my now trailing lead which was now nipping at my heels and the cries from Grandpa of, “ELSIE! STOP! ELSIE!” I decided that my hunt for the prey that is Flora this time was totally fruitless. Therefore I stopped and let my badly panting Grandpa (this man actually passed a beep test with flying colours on many occasions) take a hold of my lead (securely this time) and take me for my walk. Ah a morning sprint always does you good, eh Grandpa? I must blame Planet Earth II for giving me such a wonderful set of role models. It was those pesky racer snakes chasing the helpless marine iguanas last week that proved my inspiration in my hunt for Flora, that and my wild animal instinct that matches my equally wild hair!
After my sprint that morning you’d think the rest of the day would be relaxing for me and my lovely family. Well, it was until Grandpa decided to give me a tasty piece of chicken coated in (no people it wasn’t mustard sauce this time, Mama J is relieved by that point) garlic and coriander. Now it went down rather well and was total scrumptious until a few hours later when unfortunately it had a funny (it wasn’t too much of a giggle for me actually) effect on my tummy. Please don’t read on if you are eating (especially chicken in garlic and coriander) or have a weak stomach, this may turn it quicker than The Big Dipper in Blackpool. You have been warned! 
   Mama J was tucked up all cosy in bed and I went up to join her while Granny ran a bath. All was fine until I started to feel a bit peculiar in the tummy area. I decided to let Mama J know that I felt a bit peculiar by shooting up the bed to her side and then shaking like Ed Balls doing Gangnam Style on Strictly Come Dancing at the weekend. Mama J sat up and began cooing at me, “Elsie? Oh Elsie sweet pea what’s wrong?” With her loving words and caring caresses I spewed up all over the duvet cover! “Oh Elsie you poor thing, you’ve been sick!” Mama J said, her voice full of concern for my wellbeing. Now Mama J not being at all good at domestic duties just sat there pandering over me until Granny came charging in like a superhero, tissues in hand and cleared up my sick.
   Once my sick was wiped off the bed and seen as it was now 10.22pm Granny thought it best not to change the bed until the morning so blasted the bed, Mama J and I off with the hairdryer then sprayed the duvet cover with some perfume from Mama J’s drawer. Thank goodness Mama J doesn’t have midnight gentleman callers as I don’t think they’d be very turned on by the aroma de spew, do you?

Now I’m not going to be turning into a political activist here and challenging the result of the US election. I’m a Yorkshire Terrier and as long as I get my Lily’s Kitchen covered with some Chappie alongside the occasional doggie treat, oh and some cheese and chicken (not covered in garlic and coriander you’ve heard what it can do to a girl’s waistline) then I’m a happy pooch. 
   However Mama J found the whole thing highly amusing not least because she can’t say the name of the next First Lady, Melania. She kept trying to say it with Granny promptly her over and over again of election result day. Sadly over and over again getting it completely wrong. To Mama J it was like red lorry yellow lorry or she sells seashells on the seashore. A complete tongue twister!    
   Therefore if Fiona Bruce ever fancies an evening off presenting the BBC News it might be best not to give Mama J a call should there be an item about Melania Trump to talk about. 


So this last week I’ve been taking my Personal Trainer duties way too far. Not only have I got Mama J doing more exercise but now I’ve taken my quest to be the world’s greatest Personal Trainer to new and dizzy heights by working on Granny too. Granny and Grandpa are in charge of my walking activities in the main with Mama J picking up the slack where necessary.
   Mama J and I went for an afternoon stroll the other Wednesday after I gave her “the stare”. All educated dog owners will know “the stare” but for those unenlightened few amongst you and other dogs of high reading and writing intelligence such as myself wanting to perfect such a move, it goes like this:-Firstly sit in front of your victim sorry training partner. Look adoringly into their eyes (oh this sounds like a dating guide or perhaps an episode of the Channel 4 hit programme First Dates. Now where’s lovely Fred?). Then start cooing like a little sparrow sitting on a fence shooting the breeze. Here we go doing a bit of acting again, today it’s a sparrow but not of the Captain Jack kind, tomorrow it could be a wilting willow tree. Lastly jump at your training partner’s legs with your full force. If you are a Great Dane perhaps its best to give a gentle paw, otherwise Accident and Emergency will be the only place your owner will be hobbling into and then coming out with an appointment for the fracture clinic and some stylish crutches to boot. All too dramatic a way to gain some extra exercise.
   Anyway Mama J is very susceptible to “the stare” from me as she think I’m the cutest Yorkshire Terrier she’s ever seen. Being gorgeous and loveable has such massive advantages. So she popped her coat on, rustled around in the kitchen cupboard for some poop bags and we were off down the road and right to the end of the village. 
   On the way down the village Mama J’s attention was drawn to a gateway with a Beagle sat minding its own business, just chilling behind it. Fortunately I was only alerted to it after Mama J said to me, “Elsie I think we will cross the road on the way back just incase that lovely looking Beagle wants to say, “Hello!” to you. Or should that be you want to say, “HELLO!” loudly to it?” 
   When we explored to the end of the village, me sniffing and spraying my scent everywhere (it’s a different blend of perfume than you get in John Lewis or Boots fragrance department I grant you) I could see the neighbouring village in the distance and I wanted to go explore there too. Just imagine all the wonderful new dogs I could make “friends” with there! However Mama J had other ideas and turned us both around and then marched us over the road to avoid Beagle conflict. On crossing the road I was now in spitting distance of our village playing fields. I was all for climbing over the sty to give Mama J a run around the grass land. Mama J who hasn’t quite recovered from the experience of PE at high school said we couldn’t go on there as there maybe other dogs running loose and they may take exception to my over zealous barking. I just think that was an excuse and Mama J should go see a Therapist for her PE related anxiety issues. She clearly has post traumatic stress disorder from running around the school’s Gold Top twenty plus years ago.
   Now when I started this tale I said I’d given Granny some extra physical training too and this was done a more diva-ish way than just giving her “the stare”! Granny had taken me to clear up after the Electrician had done his latest work at Great Granny BB’s bungalow which is getting ready to be rented it out in the New Year. I sadly just like Mama J was no use to Granny whatsoever in the domestic duties department. I didn’t put an apron on, I didn’t get out my feather duster and I didn’t help with any vacuuming either. Ah Mama J you’ve trained me so well indeed.
   Once Granny was done it was about 2.30pm, so it was decided that we’d travel to a walking area just near the bungalow and I could have my afternoon exercise there. It was just half an hour or so earlier than I’d normally go out and with the clocks going back the other week it would be an ideal time for our stroll. 
   I enjoyed all the new sights, smells and sounds of the area and also enjoyed meeting some different horses behind a fence in the fields. However when we got home and Granny had settled down in the living room I started my demanding behaviour for my usual walk, at my usual time! I sat at the front door, cooed like a sparrow, pounced at Granny’s legs when she came to look for me until she took me for another walk. Mama J aptly named me Three Walks Elsie when Granny told her the tale of her increased exercise regime that day! What a Personal Trainer I am!
Mama J and Granny went out for some retail therapy last Thursday and on hearing the car pull up I started to get excited, not just about seeing them but also seeing what clothing garments they were clutching tightly in their hands. I’m a stylish pooch who loves looking at people’s purchases.
   Anyway outside our house is a grassy area and Mama J decided to walk down the slight embankment towards our house. Next thing I could hear was Granny enquiring, “What the hell are you doing?” With Mama J answering back, “Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!” She had lost her footing not once but twice in the space of thirty-seconds. This time unlike every other time may I add, Mama J turned into a Weeble and she wobbled but she didn’t fall down. Mama J on averting a bum wetting sit on the muddy grass then told Granny and I all the times when she tried in vain to be a Weeble, she wobbled but she did fall down, injuring her back, knee, both her ankles at the same time (that was quite some feat) and her wrist. She is going to watch The Weebles in action once a month just to keep up with their non falling manoeuvres. Definitely a fine thing to do for Mama J’s bodily parts and their safety.

It was Guy Fawkes Night over the weekend and I was agitated more than anything else by the fireworks. On the actual evening my family just turned the telly up louder to drown them out for me but Friday night was my actual nemesis as Coronation Street’s Platt family had their own private display in their back garden. 
   I thought we were under personal attack when the scenes came on and started barking, so instead of switching channels Mama J, Granny and Grandpa started singing (oh that’s what that cat strangling sound was meant to be) their musical scales to me. “La! La! La! LAAAA!” I don’t know what was worse for my pointy Terrier ears the blasting fireworks, Les Dennis’s acting or Mama J’s audition for The X Factor. Let’s put it this way I was in such shock at the noise that came out of Mama J’s mouth that I just sat and stared at her in the most bemused way imaginable. I’m so sorry Mama J but I can see why you weren’t allowed to learn the violin at primary school if you performed your scales to the Teacher in that manner! I’m getting myself some ear defenders for next year to drown out the noise in all respects!


We had fright night a week early as Mama J’s world nearly crumbled like a Digestive biscuit (other biscuits may apply in this crumbling process too) into a million pieces. No, she didn’t have an exhaustion, tear filled meltdown due to her busy time the previous week. Also she didn’t think the list of programmes on televisions planner was too great for eyes to watch. Although it was decided that my family would have to forgo this years The Apprentice as they thought that three hours worth of Lord Sugar’s latest business buffoons arguing was too much to bare. So why did my usually cool,calm and collected Mama J (she sounds like a James Bond character) have a meltdown? Her iPhone 6S broke! Such a first world problem! 
   Mama J first noticed the problem beginning when she went to delete her Facebook app and then reinstate it. She says that it maintains the storage capacity on her phone and keeps it at about a 7.02. Gosh this is getting too technical for even an intelligent Yorkshire Terrier like me to understand. Mama J worries, yes worries about her storage capabilities. Oh dear, may I recommend Ikea as they do some wonderful extra storage facilities, especially if you don’t have too much room? Failing that I think Mama J should get out more. On trying to reinstate Facebook the iPhone just said, “Open” however on clicking on this symbol Mama J found the app to be very much slam, shut closed! As there was no “cloud” to click on Mama J turned her phone off to see if there was any divine intervention. Yes, a bolt of lightening from the “cloud” that still wasn’t present on turning the phone back on.
   Mama J decided to leave the Facebook app to see if it corrected itself and looked on Pinterest at lots of doggie pictures for my Pinterest page. She clicked on so many doggie’s images sending them to the various sections that when she tried to reply to a friends text message the phone had a massive wobble and froze even more than Elsa and Olaf did in Frozen.
   Mama J hit the home button so violently that Granny told her to, “Calm down!” Then she “crashed” it by holding down the on/off button and the home button together. She left it to see if it would cool down from all her frantic pinning and then tried to turn it back on again. White screen, black Apple was all she saw. Mama J passed the phone onto Granny who was calmer in a technical crisis and didn’t just manically press buttons. Granny silently and serenely did a “crash” on the phone again but to no avail, the iPhone was slightly buggered!
   Mama J instead of completely freaking out went all zen like and regressed back to the days before mobiles were ever invented. Ah the joys of going out and nobody being able to get in touch with you. The days of Amstrad computers followed swiftly by the Sega Mega Drive and Sonic The Hedgehog leaping around looking for gold rings. Long before Pokemon ever went Go! When riding around on her Stinger Aero BMX and playing Blocky was the highlight of Mama J’s day. Oh and when Judy Blume not J. K. Rowling was the queen of childhood literature. Mama J’s phone was broken and she was loving it, temporarily at least.
   The loving lasted until the next morning when her iPhone still wasn’t showing any pears to go with her black Apples and she had to consult the oracle, no Google not me, to find out what to do next. Firstly she had to plug the phone into her computer then turn on iTunes. Once this was done and twenty minutes later when the latest version of iTunes was downloaded, Mama J’s iPhone was finally showing signs of life. Indeed Mama J could’ve played The Fray song, “How To Save A Life” and made the moment like a scene from Grey’s Anatomy.
   Anyhow the moment Mama J, Granny and I had being waiting for, the iPhone was turned back on and joyfully hadn’t wiped any of Mama J’s data. My image still adorned the screen saver and Facebook and the other apps were all in full working order. Mama J it’s time to put the Sega Mega Drive, the Stinger Aero BXM and the Judy Blume books away, oh and shout, “Blocky one, two three!” normal social service is resumed.

Hollyoaks and now Strictly Come Dancing star Danny Mac saved Mama J’s bacon and spared her blushes at the weekend by uncharacteristically over balancing on one of his dance moves. Whilst catching up on last weeks show, Mama J said to me when we watched his beautiful Rumba, that if Danny Mac didn’t get some 10’s this coming weekend, she would run down the road naked. She thinks the judges have been less than generous with his scores and this was going to be her way of taking them to task. Was she going to tweet them a picture?
   Anyway Saturday night came and poor Danny got his lowest score of the competition. Mama J looked at me and I looked at Mama J and we declared it nil and void as he did stumble slightly. I didn’t want the embarrassment of Mama J becoming the female version of the Naked Rambler when he didn’t do a performance that was truly up to par. We’ll leave it for this weekend but may I send a warning out to our neighbours that if you see a starkers Mama J running down the street, please don’t be alarmed, it’s only because Danny Mac has been under marked again on Strictly?

Today is Halloween and also my Granny’s birthday. Happy birthday to my fabulous Granny! Anyway my family just got back from shopping and lunch and as well as getting some bits and pieces of make up for herself, Mama J bought me two new coats and a new rabbit toy. 
   One of them is the colourful ski jacket I'm modelling at the top of this post. Now where are those ski slopes so I can do it justice and wear it to its full potential? The other is the fetchingly stylish animal print lined coat, which is all the rage with Mama J and Granny's wardrobes at the moment, that I'm wearing at the bottom of today's blog for you. How cool am I? I love it when it’s peoples birthdays and I get lots of goodies! Happy Halloween to you all and enjoy the trick or treating fun.


I have a guilty confession to make today. No, I haven’t been eating chocolate by the bucket load because as I’m a Yorkshire Terrier dog, I don’t think the Vet would be too pleased with me on that score and it’s always best to keep the Vets on side just in case I have another flare up with my very unpredictable teeth, the joys of being a Yorkie! My confession is far worse and involves cruelty towards a cushion and then unruly behaviour towards my Mama J.
   Here goes the tale of last Monday evening. I hope you are all sitting comfortably, Mama J wasn’t once I began my extremely cheeky antics! We all sit down to watch the soap operas as they are Mama J’s escapism on a night time. Granny sometimes reads a magazine or does a code word puzzle (ah she’s intelligent and likes to stimulate her brain, Mama J’s brain is stimulated with rubbish, well that’s what Grandpa says anyway) and Grandpa watches DVD’s of a very odd nature on his computer. I say odd nature as they are either Spaghetti Western’s or something with lots of martial arts content. I guess if you are a Clint Eastwood fan this might be perfectly expectable behaviour, Mama J thinks it odd, each to their own though I say. Failing finding a good DVD in his collection he reads all about war a lot. Oh and he has the sheer audacity to say Mama J’s popular tastes in television series are bad, um well no comment on that issue as I want to keep the peace in my household!
   So I start off laying on Mama J’s lap and when Granny sits down I move from Mama J’s lap onto my cushion in the middle of my two favourite girls, Grandpa’s on the floor merrily watching a fight scene, gun or fist wise it really doesn’t matter to him. 
   Well, it was last Monday and David had just been locked in The Bistro’s cellar area in Coronation Street so he didn’t do himself or anyone else any harm. Ah that one didn’t quite go to plan but this is Gail Rodwell’s wonderful family so we’ll have to let them off, as they have a colourful history of madness, especially Satan like David. Mama J at the point of Nick locking David in the cellar mentioned the words “right” and “bed” and that was my cue to pounce!
   I moved like a lion stalking its prey and my prey was the cushions behind where Mama J was sat. Firstly I shoved the cushion next to Mama J down with my paws and even my face, so then I could make my next move, which was a very cheeky move indeed. I started shoving Mama J’s back firmly with my nose and then with my paws. I was like a Burrower not a Borrower trying to get Mama J off the end of the sofa, so I could take up my rightful position on the two cushions at the end of the sofa.
   Granny and Grandpa looked on in not horror but with great amusement but they did all agree I was getting too big for my paws, sorry boots! Mama J who realised she shouldn’t really have mentioned the words “right” and “bed” as she knows they taunt me and my love for those cushions, decided to stand her ground on the very edge of the sofa until the closing credits of Coronation Street were rolling. At which point I was fully in place to watch the next programme on the telly before going on up to bed. See who needs Clint Eastwood’s shoot out showdowns or the soap operas weekly dramas when you have Mama J and I with our fight to cushion supremacy?
Mama J has had the busiest week on record and has been left wondering how at ninety years young Her Majesty The Queen has the stamina to keep up with her regal schedule. She has an even greater respect for our countries Monarch but says after this gruellingly sociable week, she would have to decline Prince Harry if he ever asked her to marry him. Oh dear here goes our very own fantasy Queen again with her delusions of grandeur!
   Last week started off with my family going out for lunch with my Great Uncle P and his lovely fiancee my Great Auntie S. They both retired a few years ago now so meet up with Grandpa, Granny and Mama J on a regular basis for a good old giggle and some yummy food. 
   The pair had recently visited a local garden centre and Great Uncle P had spotted a little temporary Christmas job that he thought might be right up his street, Santa Claus! Great Auntie S told him that his slim stature may go against him and that he might be better applying for the other vacancy the garden centre had of an Elf. Great Uncle P said that he didn’t want to be an Elf and that he wanted the top job! Over lunch he became quite adamant that Santa Claus or the top job as he saw it was the one he wanted. I think Actor Will Ferrell might disagree as he looked most fetching in his green and yellow Elf outfit. We shall have to see whether Great Uncle P decides to go for the top job next time Grandpa calls him.

Next up was a girlie lunch for Mama J and Granny on Wednesday with some old work colleagues of Granny’s. A girlie lunch? I’m a girlie pooch where was my invitation? I would’ve fitted in very well at the cafe/come deli place they went to meet and eat at. I could’ve given my expert guidance on which cheeses people should buy. Now there’s a job they should definitely create for me and me alone!
   That same evening and one of Grandpa’s former work colleagues came over for dinner and told us all about the joys of owning a data bank! “A what?” I hear you cry. Yes, Mama J did the same thing until our friend explained that it was a 1990s electronic organiser and Mama J realised after checking them out on eBay that she used to own one herself. Our friend was most upset that he had put all his data in his data bank then his data bank was no longer opening up for business. He replaced the batteries to no joy and tried it one more time, yes one more time (this was a frustrated man by this point in the data bank tale) and it finally started working. Mama J advised him to get a pen and a paper based Filofax to write his data down in future. Ah the simple things in life that are no doubt safe in the long run, data storage wise!

Now for the main event of Mama J’s week and the one that her work schedule had to be tailored around causing her even more confusion over what day of the week it actually was. No, the main event wasn’t who died it Emmerdale’s spectacularly nutty car crashes, that came a very close second though but it was a wedding.
   Mama J was invited by her lovely friend to attend her daughter’s wedding and had been excitedly planning her outfit since getting the invitation back in February. She’d decided to wear her beautiful Chinese design Karen Millen dress that she’s had for a few years now but fits her so well and makes her feel so good when wearing it. There was only a slight breath holding moment when she tried her dress on with her new bras (we thought Bob at Debenhams might be getting worried about her bra ordering fetish again should the bra not fit with the dresses neckline) as the band was marginally thicker than on her old ones, however all was well.
   On the day of the wedding the glam squad descended, okay that squad was just Mama J with Granny’s expert help with necklaces and furry scarves. Mama J came downstairs with a hint of a gorgeous dress but also with her work hoodie and £4.00 pair of Matalan slippers on, her slippers weren’t even kitten heel in their style. Not really the look I think you should be going for Mama J but if you’re sure?
   Anyway just before she was due to leave Mama J slipped off her comfy slippers and hoodie, put her red lipstick on and was ready for the off. The wedding was at a local castle that reminded Mama J of Downton Abbey. The staff on duty were almost as well trained as Carson and Mrs Patmore, (Grandpa and Granny) I say almost as they have very high standards indeed.
   At the wedding Mama J was sat with two other dog lovers so my ears were definitely burning with all the conversation of my wild antics.
Right that’s it for this week folks as Mama J wants to try and get some TV programmes off the growing planner list. Great Uncle P said that he and Great Auntie S get stressed when their planner gets too full of episodes of The Chase. Those two must have a Bradley Walsh fetish going on!


I Elsie Bear Cherub am defender of my house, road and universe no less. I’m knackered just thinking about all I prevail to defend. Last Thursday though instead of curling myself up on the sofa, I should’ve escorted Mama J to the Doctor’s surgery as she was brutally attacked by a Phlebotomist wielding not one, not two but three needles.
   Mama J has to get her blood levels checked every so often (okay more often than she would like) to make sure her warfarin and thyroid levels are all fine and dandy. Last time she went it took four attempts to get her very awkward blood to start flowing and this time it took three.
   Firstly the Phlebotomist (she’ll remain unnamed just in case other patients become afraid of needles just like people are getting frightened of clowns, with the non friendly clown saga that’s engulfed the world at the moment) sat Mama J down and joked that she’d had her first “funny” patient in first and once Mama J was done she was on the up. She could help write this blog for me getting laughs like that. 
   Secondly she proceeded to pull out a fine butterfly needle (ah this is getting technical now) as  Mama J has such fine veins and asked if Mama J had had plenty to drink that morning. Vodka isn’t really a morning drink so Mama J answered that she’d had a glass of milk and not a Russian Bride cocktail! She then went in for the kill stabbing the back of Mama J’s hand. After a few minutes the blood just wasn’t flowing out. Oh dear! The Phlebotomist then started getting agitated and was apologising profusely as she was going to have to prick Mama J again, this time in her arm. As she couldn’t find anymore butterfly needles she pulled out a contraption that looked like it should’ve been in The Beamish Museum. It looked more like a plunger than a needle. Into Mama J’s arm it went and out of Mama J’s arm blood did NOT come.
   The Phlebotomist was getting a sweat on now and Mama J (yes the one having the needles in her arms and hands) was gently telling her that everything will be okay, she just needle, sorry needed to breathe!
   It was decided (by Mama J) that the waiting room full of patients cueing up to meet their blood loss maker could wait another minute so they could just give the back of Mama J’s hand another go. This time the plunger/needle went in and blood was delicately extracted in a slow and steady manner. Hooray this job was finally a good-un!
   As Mama J left the surgery she could hear the Phlebotomist telling everyone that she’d had a bit of bother (that’s Mama J all right always causing bother) but things were back on track now.
   When Mama J arrived home all cotton wooled and taped up I was so worried as to what had just happened. I jumped on her lap after her “trauma” as Granny described it. I sniffed at her hand and then looked into her eyes just to make sure she was okay. The Rembrandts theme song to Friends was ringing in my head. Next time Mama J, “I’ll Be There For You” and that is going to be in less than two weeks time, as Mama J’s warfarin dose was amended. Oh dear that poor Phlebotomist may need a day off that Thursday or Mama J better do lots of PE style star jumps to get her blood boiling up in her veins.

After telling Grandpa of her trauma (she’s milking this just slightly now. However Grandpa does have a mild phobia of needles and would’ve become more than a little faint if he were to have such a three needle event happen to him) Mama J was given another huge shock when she walked in to find Grandpa and I watching Star Trek. It shouldn’t have come as too much of a shocker as I really enjoyed the sci-fi film 2001: A Space Odyssey when Grandpa had it on over last year’s festive period. Yes, folks sci-fi is definitely my genre and not all the soap operas that Mama J subjects Grandpa and I to each week (saying that, I’ll get more treats at meal times from Grandpa’s plate, ah there’s method in my madness).
   So Star Trek was brilliant as I felt such a bond with one of the characters that lit up my television screen. Spock! He has the same ears as mine. We are such kindred spirits, soul mates in another life form. He’s pure magic and I think I’m in love. Sorry Watson you can be my earth doggie boyfriend and Spock can be my one in space. Mama J is trying to get me an outfit just like his so we can look the same whilst we are Star Trekking across the universe. I also liked the Cling On’s, Mama J said that’s because I’m like the family’s shadow, especially when they are set to go out. I cling on to one of their legs for dear life. Anyway Grandpa and I will be fighting Mama J for the telly remote from 6.00pm each evening so we can enjoy watching our Star Trek and my lovely Mr Spock.

We all enjoyed Anne Robinson’s Britain programme last Thursday evening as it was all about the nation’s habits with their pets. As a very pampered pooch, I fully supported the lady featured methods with her many Dachshund dogs. I was slightly jealous as they got to go for treatments at a local beauty salon. I just sit on the dining room table, how is that fair? As I was in a huff by this point, Mama J had to explain to me that because I’m not always that great around other dogs that it might not be a very relaxing experience for all concerned if I was booked in for a spa day. Okay point made, its back to the dining table and family bath for me.
   One other thing Anne thought was extremely amusing was how obsessed Britain was with getting their pets on social media. As a growing social media superstar thanks to my wonderful team (Mama J) and their encouragement (“sit there and give a Vogue pose Elsie”) I have to take umbrage at Anne’s humorous mocking of a cat that made live streams to its massive Facebook following. Ms Robinson you are the weakest link, goodbye!