My blood tests have finally flagged that my Vitamin B-12 levels aren’t right. When I say aren’t right, they are none existent. The new Vet really went to town on the results looking microscopically at every level in minute detail asking for any queries he had to be retested. He was a man with a very definite mission and my wellness is his aim. He may not be Sir Bruce Forsyth’s favourite (on the basis of probably never meeting him) but he’s definitely my Mum’s. Now repeat after me, “Ah poor Marble!” as I have a deficiency, bless me! It is now working out what is causing my levels to drop off the B-12 Richter scale. They say it could still be a food allergy. So I’m playing Guinea Pig again to another type of hypoallergenic food that the Vet has prescribed for me. At least this time it’s a bit less bland than the I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here diet of chicken and rice I endured during last summer. Or I could have an intestinal infection/parasitise so I’m on antibiotics for that as well. Or it could be irritable bowl syndrome (IBS) for which I’m on steroids too. Oh I’ll be rattling like a shaken maraca soon. Or lastly it could be something scarier than Nightmare On Elm Street but we don’t want to go there in our minds just yet as Halloween is along time off and its best not to dwell until you have the full facts. To raise my Vitamin B-12 levels I have to have weekly injections for the next month, which Mum has “kindly” volunteered to give me. We went to the veterinary practice to be shown where on my body to inject. Oh the joys! When the Vet bought the needle through from the store room I think Mum thought we had walked onto the film set of a new Carry On movie. The needle and plunger (I’m sure there’s a fancy medical term that I need to watch Holby City to find out… Syringe driver Joolsy’s just informed me is the correct terminology) is absolutely MASSIVE! I nearly jumped off the medical table to run for the door and Mum looked most alarmed too. Anyway the Vet injected half my Vitamin B-12 concoction and Mum did a sterling job of finishing the injection procedure off. I promise to be a good boy every Wednesday for the next three weeks until I’ve finished my course. Unless my steroids do something to my brain as they can make you grumpy style aggressive. I once saw a report on the News saying that naughty weight lifters who don’t do things necessarily by the book can get all sorts of mood swings through taking such drugs. Well, at least I’ve got an excuse for been grumpy when its bedtime and I don’t wish to move from the extremely comfy sofa, for the next month or so anyway. Now there’s small mercies. 

With all this in mind and the fact that I don’t want this blog to turn into Marble’s Doing A Diary Of Doom. Like some Daily Mirror salacious exclusive about the woes of my illness. Poo splattering, family anguish, my extreme weight loss and all on a week by week basis. I’ve decided to paw over the creative writing reigns to Elsie until I’m body, mind and soul better. She has promised to give progress reports but won’t be remarking on my bum activities in minute by minute detail. She doesn’t believe its ladylike at all, in fact she says it’s most vulgar (hark at her)! So Elsie has been with her two Personal Assistants (Mum and Joolsy) or should that be glorified Bag Carriers outfit shopping this morning for when she takes over my writing duties next week. She says that power dressing brings more creativity to her mind, as it makes her feel more confident and in the zone. She came back with the dog equivalent of the female breakfast TV presenters wardrobe. So think Holly Willoughby and Ruth Langsford’s style wise, wearing their Roland Mouret type dresses and Oprah Winfrey wearing her Christian Louboutin red soled killer heels. What a diva! Well, good luck finding out if the Devil really does wear Prada over the next few weeks. I’m off for a well earned slice of what the British Army call rest and recuperation (R&R) in my warm and snug bed. Bliss!


G.I. Elsie Bear Cherub obviously got confused by her Navy Seal training regime. Even her shark like interaction maybe a paw step too far to go in one of Sir David Attenborough's wildlife programmes! 


My bum is like the Trevi Fountain again! Sorry if you are indulging in your dinner whilst reading this, I must think on next time I post as to timings of the day and night. Mind you when isn’t a good time to eat? I can’t think of one! Thought I’d come up with a punchy opening line about my past week and that sadly was the first thing that sprung to mind. We have been on several walks and I’ve exploded all over the pavement! It is coming out of the other end to Lord Grantham’s Downton explosion last year and a slightly different shade of yuckiness but still not a pleasant experience for me, or indeed Mum and Dad. I’m surprised Mum hasn’t started carrying a packet of Kleenex (other brands are available) tissues to do her full on motherly duties and clean up after my browning of the concrete “sessions”. This has happened too many times now for no good Vindaloo reasons and sadly I not beefing up in my usual manner even though I tried a high protein diet over Christmas (well a few days of that then the explosions began again) then I have been back on my original food since then but we still have bombs not chock’s away. So on Thursday Mum and I trundled off to the Vets for a chat, a thorough investigation/examination, repeat blood tests followed lastly by yummy biscuits for my good behaviour. It was the Vet who gave Elsie her health check and booster jab that I saw and she being an absolute diva turned her nose up at the biscuits. I on the other paw know exactly where the barrel containing the offending items is kept and stared sweetly at it then back at the Vet until he gave me three biscuits. That’s how you play the game Elsie. You may have learned how to steal a finger of Fudge wrapper and all (don’t worry Dad was on it like a car bonnet and removed the fudge unharmed from Elsie’s jaws) but you haven’t quite learned to follow my lead in gaining the full positive experience at the veterinary practice. You are a sharp tool though, you’ll cotton on soon for sure. We are just waiting for the Vet to call us back as he left a message on the answer machine earlier this morning when Mum and Joolsy were out having coffee with a friend. I thought about answering the phone but thought I might be best leaving it to Mum as I’m not interested if it doesn’t involve the words walk, go get your rope, treat or dinner. If like the last time two times the blood tests come back showing up nothing then Mum’s going to ask them to do further tests until we get to the bottom (pardon the pun) of the situation. Ah I thought I was a Cocker Spaniel not a Guinea Pig!

Remember me telling of Joolsy’s filling antics at the Dentist last summer? Well, to counteract that and score polishing browning points when she goes for her next six monthly check up, Joolsy thought she’d buy an electric toothbrush. She logged onto her computer to research electric toothbrushes and read a few reviews and selected the “best’ one which being a glamorous girlie was the most expensive one, of course no surprises there then. Actually going to the Dentist for a weekly polish like a lady can go to the hair salon for a weekly blow dry would’ve been less money than the brush Joolsy chose. Having said that Joolsy was savvy and got the brush half price at £112 due to her research and cash back deals! Martin Lewis/Jasmine Birtles would be proud! The toothbrush was scheduled to arrive today but to Joolsy’s amazement Boots delivered it first thing on Friday morning. Joolsy was pleased about this but also a little upset as she always enjoys her window squats from the sofa on seeing a white van man drive by when she’s expecting a call (not a nature call, though she has them every five minutes on a morning due to her water tablets. What a pair we are!) So Friday night arrived and we could all hear buzzing coming from Joolsy’s ensuite. We didn’t hear it followed by screaming from Joolsy so it must be the new toothbrush in action and not a swarm of bees. Phew Mum and I had enough of them last autumn down the lane on one of our less enjoyable evening strolls. Two minutes later Joolsy emerged from her bathroom licking her teeth in a funny manner. This act went on over the weekend with the look on her face getting more and more pensive every time she finished her bi-daily brushing ritual. Then over dinner on Sunday night Joolsy enquired, “Mum, can we stop at Boots tomorrow? My mouth is getting more and more minging by the second and if I don’t get a manual toothbrush there’s going to be fluff and food festering between my teeth!” Oh what a vision to behold. I almost wanted along with Elsie in tow to stop them leaving the house this morning just to see the spectacle that was going to be growing in Joolsy’s mouth! Harsh I know but we could have called it a Heston Blumenthal food tech/science experiment to work around the rudeness of the situation. Anyway after cuddling us two on their arrival, Joolsy ran like Usain Bolt up the stairs, kissed her manual toothbrush (well they do say you can fall in love with animate objects. Shall I book the local church and buy a hat Joolsy?) and started scrubbing her teeth. This time she came out of the bathroom smiling and uttering something along the lines of, “Oh beautiful Oral-B I will never desert you again!”

Joolsy has not only been excited by purchasing a manual toothbrush this morning but by something truly spectacular in her world that is due to happen in late spring time. Oh I’m really hamming this up here! Peggy Mitchell was in Eastenders again on Friday evening. Well, nothing new there then as bless Dame Barbara Windsor she has had nearly as many on screen come backs as Rocky Balboa. What he’s got another film out entitled Creed? I better dust off those boxing pads as Joolsy will want to reenact his moves after watching that film at the cinema. This time though Peggy broke the devastating news to her alcoholic son Phil that her cancer had returned and she was dying. Joolsy I must say you do get excited about the strangest things… Oh it isn’t that bit of the Eastenders storyline you are giddy about! No at 6.50am this morning we were woken up to a yelp of joy coming from Joolsy’s room and when she opened her door and Dad got up to feed Elsie and I we heard the words, “Hello Mum!” Don’t worry Dad doesn’t wear a wig and a night dress to bed and no Joolsy's mind isn’t playing tricks on her. This was the immortal line used by the iconic character Grant Mitchell last time actor Ross Kemp came back for a visit to the East End of London soap opera. This time he is returning to the role for his matriarch Mum Peggy’s final scenes and Joolsy and the people on Twitter who had a near melt down when the news broke couldn’t be happier. Dad on the other hand was less enthusiastic and said to Joolsy, “You need to get a life!” Well, I say, “It’s the simple things in life that give you pleasure!” I’m looking forward to seeing Grant as at eight years young I don’t know of he Mitchell hard man, although I don’t know about Elsie watching his on screen antics, it may give her ideas on terrorising more pooches in our neighbourhood! 


Ashley Banjo please watch these moves, as Elsie's back flipping for role in Diversity's next tour! That or she's trying her paw at a crowd rousing Mexican wave.


Two years have passed since Joolsy and Mum moved from the dark side to the light side. No, I’m not talking hair colour here or even Star Wars. Patience on that score as it’s coming I promise! I’m talking Apple’s iPhone and in the two years since their technological awaking. Oh go on then let’s go the whole hog here and call it an epiphany! Joolsy and Mum have enjoyed the joys of Apps and Elsie and I have endured (sorry enjoyed) the effects of the iPhone’s camera been thrust in our faces. Strike a pose there’s nothing to it! Madonna, David Bailey and Mario Testino in their own unique ways have a lot to answer for. I think that every time the flash goes off while I’m trying to chill in my Chesterfield high back chair. I must point out that it is a Chesterfield just in case you thought I’d moved to the realms of a Shackleton high seater. Just because I turn eight years young on Friday and I’m getting less enthusiastic on my walks, doesn’t mean I want full on comfort over style just yet. Wait another year then I’ll be begging Joolsy to order me a tartan rug off eBay to cover my paws after another cold and wet walk. Joolsy was set a mission by Mum and yes she did chose whole heartedly to accept it and that was to find the best deal for their new iPhone 6S after they’d navigated their way round their friends over dinner and loved the new features on offer. Joolsy went on Carphone Warehouse’s website and got a very good deal on next day delivery. Very important for this impulsive pair who given Joolsy’s “want it now nature” she would’ve driven anywhere at lightening speed on Tuesday afternoon, had it not been for the fact that Mum had already been out all morning grocery shopping. Then as a matter of interest she went to their network provider to see whether they could match or better this deal. Now I don’t think the lady really understood the full art of negotiation, as every time Joolsy pressed her for a slightly better deal she came back with a less favourable price or a lower megabyte allowance. Somebody hasn’t been watching Dragons’ Den have they? Joolsy said in her own way that she was in fact, “Out” and went back to Carphone Warehouse to obtain a mobile for both herself and Mum. Wednesday came and Joolsy kept circling the living room window like Dad does every time we are expecting a visitor. He stands to attention even though it’s a very old time friend and not The Queen calling. Putting remote controls in the draw as he sweeps the carpet floor with his pacing feet. Well, he can’t close up the TV cabinet anymore, Joolsy put pay to that so the draw has to feed that obsession for tidy order now. Even though they had a time slot of 12pm, Joolsy jumped up each time a white van drove by. Seen as there is a very productive business at the end of our road Joolsy had done her quota of squats by the time there was an actual knock on the door. Now their mobile provider must have been notified of their change to contract as they had turned their old phones to “No service” the night before. They felt like naughty girls who hadn’t paid their bills and sadly couldn’t put another 50 pence coin in the meter. So when their new phones arrived and Mum insisted they put their old sim cards in their new phones even though they were issued with new cards just with different numbers on their packages. This Joolsy knew wouldn’t work and sure enough “No service” not normal service was resumed. Joolsy backed up her new iPhone with her old sim contacts as the five YouTube videos she had used dutifully for consultation told her to. Ah there’s always an expert or five out there with a video on hand and Joolsy is always glad of the advice. Mum was now getting frustrated, she feared she was plummeting towards the abyss of having to use… A LANDLINE once more! At least you don’t have to go outside to a phone box as that really would be old school. Clark Kent/Superman still uses one as his changing room. Now you don’t get that, not even in Primark! Mum had had enough and seeing old methods of communication flashing before her eyes she rang Carphone Warehouse for advice and was told that the new sim card would work in the new phones even though it had a different number and they were keeping their existing numbers. Hallelujah the ability to text and call was restored… Well, after they had worked out that they had to pop the nano sim out of it's packaging. While all the iPhone installation was taking place there was so much ranting going on you wouldn’t believe. Elsie, Dad and I just kept looking at each other then ducking for cover, under cushions and behind sofas we dived covering our ears all the while. Joolsy who was due to leave for the hairdressers piped up, “I’ve got to go get my roots done. I need this sorting!” Mum chirped back, “Never again. I’ll remember this next time we want to upgrade. We are going to the bloody shop! I knew we should’ve gone there!” Dad was trying to play mediator saying, “You always knew it was going to be tight time wise with your hair appointment.” This was as Joolsy was shovelling toast into her mouth and guzzling down her flavoured water in a manner that no doctor would ever improve. It really wasn’t good for her digestive system that lunchtime. Anyway Joolsy managed to gain full service and off she went to get her dark roots lightened once more. Mum proceeded having not backed up her old contacts from her old sim (you should’ve watched the YouTube videos Mum) to restore her old phone to factory settings so she could recycle it by giving it to Dad. We are very good in this house we do bottles, plastic, cardboard (when the local council lets us but that’s another rant for another day there) and now mobile phones. Deleting all the information led to yet more ranting that Joolsy could no doubt hear from the hairdressers eleven miles away. Mum had deleted all her contacts. Duck Dad, duck Elsie! We’ve got to take cover Mum’s going to blow and swear A LOT! She began manually typing them in from her written address book (see paper really is King) and managed to somehow find numbers she had texted over the last few months and text landline numbers of people she didn’t have to on hand to get their mobiles too. So after a stressful afternoon service, mobile and otherwise was restored. Joolsy ordered a wacky case for her phone of Slinky, the dog from Toy Story which arrived and Mum ordered a plain which leather one which she is still waiting for. Mind you Elsie finally got her collar last week which was ordered in November, Santa lost it I reckon! Sadly Santa is on holiday now after his hard work, so Mum’s been speaking instead to the company providing the case to sort it out, as she’s scared of using her phone over the kitchen/dining room’s stone floor.

The family had a late morning date with Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher and the other cast members of Star Wars (I’m afraid not literally though that would be quite a coo) when they went to watch the film on Friday. Now I’m not going to spoil the plot for any of you who haven’t had the chance to see the new film yet. My family waited so they wouldn’t get bashed around by frightening looking children wearing Vader masks, waving around their Toys R Us bought lightsabers in an unskillful and unsavoury manner. The actors I’m sure were given saber training, little Johnny who got his off Father Christmas is probably trained only in the art of taking folks eyes out with his. Since they got back Mum just keeps saying, “They didn’t have to do that…Why did they?” about the fate of one of the primary characters. She said it as she ate of banana and peanut butter sandwich on Friday lunchtime and then it was obviously still preying on her mind as she ate her cheese stuffed crust pizza at teatime, quoting her lines again. Joolsy just wants a BB-8 droid toy. Dad who has a Talos figurine from Jason and the Argonaut’s, not to mention his American Civil War figures that he paints along with walls yes walls too, to one day create a full scale battle scene, was in full support and quoted the name of the shop nearby that had R2-D2 and may indeed have BB-8. Mum was less impressed and is now looking for the parental lock button on all the sites selling such a toy on all internet based devices in our house. We have 6 devices that keep disappearing like a Paul Daniels magic trick then mysteriously reappearing in he living room once more! Joolsy was impressed by Daisy Ridley’s character, the strong Rey. The actress must have done so much fitness training for that role as some of the fight/running scenes were so physical. This inspired Joolsy to do some stretches last night. Steady now Joolsy you’ll be running a marathon in oh twenty-five years time. Every time Joolsy watches a film with an action heroine in it, be it Star Wars, Tomb Raider or Kill Bill she wonders how the actress must have prepared for the role and whether their style of training would help her stamina wise. So to practice with she’s got a skipping rope, a cutlery knife (unsharp of course) and the attachment off the Dyson vacuum cleaner. All this before she gets herself some nunchucks, a Samurai sword and a lightsaber. Oh dear someone should’ve warned Joolsy not to try this at home, for our safety as well as her own!
Joolsy has been on holiday last week and has now seen the full power extent of the Smart TV’s capabilities in all its technicolor glory. Which was worrying for Elsie and I as 

Joolsy found a 2013 show called Extreme Dog Grooming. This compounded by the fact that I had scheduled appointment at the groomers at 9.00am this morning was an extremely worrying event indeed. I notice how Joolsy’s hair was done last week in its normal blonde hues unlike mine. I may come back looking like Dennis The Menace with a my white bits turned red to create the infamous Dennis jumper look. Or worse still in tribute to the musical icon David Bowie who sadly passed away yesterday, I may be getting a Ziggy Stardust inspired look. We know there is a spaceman waiting in the sky but I don’t think anyone is ready to meet me, a Cocker Spaniel with stars painted on my body and blue eyeshadow adorning my above eye area. Now I jest here but the groomers featured were in fact super creative and talented. The event shown was the annual Groom Expo Show based in Hershey, Pennsylvania and there were creations on mainly Poodles such as The Simpsons, Disney characters but the one that stole the prize winning themselves judges attention was a Geisha inspired theme and it was pure artistic magic. Joolsy tamely I was surprised by looked at Elsie and said, “You could be a fox! Shall we make you a fox?” Well, with her pointy features due to her undershot jaw she’s halfway there and if you backcombed her tail and squinted slightly, yeah I guess she could pass as Mrs Fox.


I've got all the gear and hopefully some idea. Now I've just got to find the best gym membership scheme in my area..To feel the burn!


Our New Year’s Eve was celebrated with three of our lovely neighbours who came down for all manor of flavoured pizzas and cheese cakes. That shopping trolley was sure full of fun! Olivia Twist (Elsie) and I got out our begging bowls and said in our sweetest doggie whines, “Please Sir can we have some?” You notice how I didn’t say more here as we didn’t want to push our luck too much after we were given a bite of a cheese filled crust slice of pizza each. It was lush be the way. A lick of cheese cake was however a paw press on our guests jeans too far and we were told to, “Get down now dog-lets if you please.” After the pizza we all moved into the living room to play a rousing game of CHAV which caused Joolsy all manor of upset. It started well for her as she teamed up with our friend and the money was rolling in like an Apprentice candidates win total. Two players down, like skittles at a bowling alley and it was the paired up twosome versus Mum and then the fun really began. Joolsy kept landing on “Minted” and this turned out to be a double edged sword as every time they landed on it they were sent to a part of the board owned by Mum and made to pay a Mum a fee for the privilege. “How is that minted?” Joolsy started ranting, “I’d rather be minging!” Steady on Joolsy I don’t think you are really thinking this through and are getting your mind twisted in all of your competitive rage. I must explain Minging is where you pay a fine to the Banker in CHAV and Minted is where you get a “reward”. Two hours down and with New Year dawning and Joolsy’s competitive face looking more and more dower by the millisecond it was decided that we would call time on this game and add up money and assets. Joolsy and our neighbour had a respectable total of £955 however Mum had a total of £1005 and was declared the Queen of CHAV. I recall last time our two families played this game that Mum won as well. As with the newly honoured star of Luther and The Wire Idris Elba, my Mum had also learnt all her swagger on da street! Now show her some bling bling man!

Joolsy was working on New Year's Day for a few hours and went into the kitchen to prepare her lunch of some cheesy bread. Mum and Dad were taking the Christmas tree and decorations down as the twelfth night comes a little too slowly for Mum’s less than traditional liking. All we heard from the kitchen was swear words then, “… This bread!” When Dad went to investigate all CSI style and he found Joolsy with a knife in her hand with a bit of mangled slightly buttered bread on the end of it. Then he looked down at the bread board to see papier-mâché… Oh no wait it was more mangled up bread. Was Joolsy auditioning for a role in the stage version of Mary Poppins? The scene being feed the bird tuppence a bag, tuppence, tuppence a bag! No, it turns out she was just trying to butter the bread and making a crumbling mess of the whole event. Then to Dad’s pure disgust she started almost pureeing it into the bread board. “What the hell are you doing? Don’t rub it into the bread board like that!” Dad shouted sort of amused and at the same time confused by Joolsy’s weird antics. Joolsy quickly piped back, “Well I’m not a Chef!” Mum came in the kitchen at this point and started giggling along with Dad at Joolsy’s extremely sincere and profound employment statement. Now I must say as a highly talented Cocker Spaniel I’m sure I could butter a bit of bread without turning it into something that resembled a Roman ruin. However Joolsy feels this is indeed a skill too far for an untrained professional. I think we should send Joolsy on Master Chef or into Hells Kitchen, it would make TV comedy gold. Joolsy would learn a whole new list of swear words to use in the kitchen from Gordon Ramsay! In fact I think it would properly tip Gordon over the edge and he’d need a stay in The Priory on seeing Joolsy’s culinary skill set. It would definitely be a Kitchen Nightmare!

Now in just over a year Elsie has become the Daniel (son) to my Mr Miyagi. When she arrived Elsie was a quiet soul who didn’t say boo to a goose. Within two days she was a fully fledged member of my choir. Adding her dulcet barking tones to my vocal ensemble. Then if you recall we egged each other on into stealing Joolsy’s lovely Mini Primrose (artistically of course) and taking her for the joyride of our lives. I have indeed inspired and corrupted Elsie again with my behaviour last week. Remember my mince pie and Malted Milk opportunist moments over the festive period. Well, in my eyes Elsie went one paw step better on the tea leaf front this past week and stole the holy grail, a Cadbury’s Fudge wrapper and all! She went into the open and these days tiny chocolate box (ah you don’t get as many as in the good old days when chocolates came in a tin) down by the side of the sofa and then made the fatal mistake of parading it around in her mouth like some latter-day Romeo parading a rose in front of his Juliet. Mum said to Dad, “She’s got something in her mouth!” Dad turned all Crocodile Dundee and prized Elise’s mouth open to release the fudge. “She’s got some bite on her even though she’s minus a few teeth!” Dad exclaimed popping the lid firmly back on the Miniature Heroes box of treats. I was silently cheering inside, “Go on Elsie. That’s my girl!”

The fudge incident sadly wasn’t the only thing Elsie did to blot her copy book last week. She had an appointment at the Vets for her routine MOT and booster injection. Off her, Dad and Joolsy went in Dad’s Freelander 2, as it has been such a wet festive periods here in Britain that Joolsy daren’t take Primrose or Mum’s car which is also a Mini Cooper only the posh S version (see my Mum’s not so common after all). They got to the Vets and as they walked up the road Elsie did a costumery wee leaving her scent on the pavement. Then when they got inside the Vets a whole minute later she did another wee in the reception area. This from a girl who can hold her bladder for more than fourteen hours at a time where necessary. Ah she obviously wanted to show the other dogs who was the boss lady of the practice. While they were waiting a lady came in with a beautiful (Joolsy thought so, Elsie less so) West Highland White. Elsie was quiet at first then began snarling and barking. Those dog training classes really were a waste of Joolsy’s money. Dad picked Madam Elsie up and moved to the doorway to give the Westie a break from all the barking. On doing this they were called in by another new Vet for Elsie’s appointment. It is standard practice for the Vet to check you over when you go for your annual booster. I always look forward to mine as I am conditioned now to look for the treat box on the side. However Elsie didn’t realise that it was standard practice to let the Vet do his thing and examine her first by having a listen to her heart with his stethoscope. As he placed it on her chest Elsie’s neck craned around like a Barn Owl on parade and promptly tried to have a snap. Oh dear it’s a good job that Mum had warned the new Vet what Elsie was like when she made the appointment. Fortunately the Vet had the reactions of world champion boxer Tyson Fury and managed to escape unharmed by Elsie’s teeth. He decided instead of doing the usual checks on teeth (already checked those I guess) and eyes that he would go straight for the jugular and give Elsie her booster jab. This part went well and Elsie was offered a peacemaking couple of biscuits by the Vet. She turned her nose up at these. Silly girl, you could have bought them home for me to eat. Dad decided to wait in the car with Elsie while Joolsy paid the bill. You would have thought that would have been the end of Elsie’s escapades but oh no Elsie had one more trick up her furry sleeve on the way home. She jumped down into the foot well from the back seats and the next thing Joolsy and Dad knew she was climbing on the hand break, across the gear stick and onto Joolsy’s lap. Yes, Elsie is the Harry Houdini of the dog world. She won’t tell me how she managed to slip out of her fitted harness but she’s told me to tell you all that she will be performing in venues across the UK this summer if you are interested in seeing her perform more death defying tricks!

After their eventful trip to the Vets, Dad decided to watch a movie and his chosen film was the cult classic Stanley Kubrick’s Space Odyssey which turned out to be a favourite with us dogs too, Elsie was particularly captivated by it all. Now I don’t know whether watching Major Tim Peake’s rocket blasting off had inspired the wonderment of space in Elsie or it was the lights and the music that sent her into a trans like state. She just stared at the screen while the music blared out (Dad needs his ears syringing again I think). Please nobody show her footage of the 1990s rave movement on YouTube or we’ll have Joolsy wishing she was a punk rocker with flowers in her hair and Elsie Bear wanting to go back to an acid house party. Elsie will be requesting Marty McFly’s mobile number to see if the DeLoren is available to transport her back to the heady heydays of Manchester’s The Hacienda nightclub to give it some “big fish little fish cardboard box” whilst wearing a t-shirt with the famous smilie emoji on it. Of course Diva Elsie will also want to go to Manumission as well when transported back in time to get a flavour of the 1990s Ibiza club scene with Fat Boy Slim on the decks. Then when the DeLoren brings Elsie back to the modern day, poor Joolsy will be pestered paws, begging brown eyes and all to get a bar licence to reopen the famous Hacienda club for Elsie along with the youth of today to enjoy. Right with the vision of my wild haired raving pal firmly in your heads I’ll leave it there for today.