Please excuse my lack of humour in this weeks blog post. I know it is meant to be my speciality but pulling it out the bag might be a Yorkshire Terrier paw step too far today. I have been awake since 3.45am (as has the whole household, so match sticks are required to keep our eyes firmly open at present) as I started with a hacking couch. I really should lay off my twenty a day Benson and Hedges habit and the Jack Daniels and Coke that dries me out. Just kidding I’m more of a puritan really rather than Rolling Stones style rock star, as I only drink water (tap though so thinking perhaps mineral is better quality, so may be a diva and insist Mama J buys me some Evian to sip on) and eat the finest meals Lily’s Kitchen has to offer. At first Granny thought I was going to be sick, well I did devour a little bit of steak last night which followed on from Rosemary focaccia bread courtesy of my always generous Grandpa. The mucky looks he gets from Mama J and Granny for giving me extras but I love it, so please Grandpa keep the tit bits coming my way. Mama J heard me hacking from in her room and came in like Florence Nightingale to make sure I was all right. Then it was Grandpa’s turn to give the dirty looks as Mama J was a little too enthusiastic with her sympathies for nearly 4.00am in the morning. She was cheering me on like a Cheerleader at the Super Bowl cooing gushingly, “Go on baby, cough it up! There’s Mama’s little superstar!” However as I was spitting dog phlegm (sorry if you are reading this while eating anything especially if it looks like custard) Mama J who is very good with positive words of encouragement is not so good with guts and gunk was moving away from me until Granny had safely seconded my spit onto the fleecy throw that I lay on, which is now drying on the line as I type. Grandpa took the Mickey out of Mama J then told her to go back to bed as she really wasn’t helping the situation. Oh ah missus! Granny rang the Vets first thing who think it could be Kennel Cough so we are off there later this afternoon. Although if there are any other dogs in the vicinity of the Vets I won’t be allowed to enter. They must have heard about the trauma I caused last week at Saltburn beach! Being serious Kennel Cough is high contagious for other dogs so the Vet may have to come out into the street to see me. I hope he/she has their full surgical mask, cap and gown on for dramatic effect. I’m sure they’ll have me right in a few days as I haven’t had a very pleasant morning. “Ah’s!” now if you please.
On a lighter note I thought I saw a Sparrow creeping up on me! I did, I did see a Sparrow! It was marginally better than seeing Flora the pussy cat in my front garden the other week but only just. No, it wasn’t Captain Jack for all you Johnny Depp fans reading this. When I went out to do my nightly nature call in my very glamorous toilet area there was a Sparrow staring right at me, in fact the poor thing looked a little startled. Well, that was after I jumped too and went into attack mode. Mama J keeps telling me to calm down, chill out. Will I listen? Will I heck! I chased this little baby Sparrow around MY yard (yeah remember that one birdie. Oh I sound like the female version of Tyson Fury) and behind the rubbish bin where it retreated for safety from my minus eight (and counting) teeth. Granny coaxed me back inside eventually (with a biscuit or two) to give me and the poor bird a chance to calm down, calm down! However by this point I was hyper and bouncing off every wall in the house. I ran up and down the stairs several times and back and forth to the back door. That little bird wasn’t going to get away with startling me in my own yard! When Grandpa came up to bed half an hour after yard incident, I was still on high alert only this time I was staring through the metal bars on Granny and Grandpa’s bed like a character in Bad Girls/Prisoner Cell Block H or Piers Morgan’s new documentary on jail birds all rolled into one. Well, I am certainly cheeky enough and my ratting instincts from the mill days are fully alive and kicking. Grandpa checked behind the bin the next morning and the Sparrow had flown off to see another day.
Now I really must encourage Chip the Yorkshire Terrier to stand up to his owner and say, “Oi Mama S keep your hands off my salmon and rice food! You know I don’t do sharing!” This is in light of Tennis supremo Serena Williams who got sick just before a tournament from “trying” Chip’s food. These athletes will give anything a go in their quest for vitality and good joints! She doesn’t need to try Winalot though as she’s done plenty of that over the years!