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.