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!