I shouted loudly as I awoke this morning, “Hip, hip hooray! I can see!” So okay I hadn’t lost my sight entirely but until yesterday morning I couldn’t fully see where I was going. I was walking into the sofa, the dining room table and trees (gosh an oak really is a might tree to do battle with) whilst out on my walks. However this isn’t an add-on to the Eastenders Dot Branning storyline, although I do think one of the soaps could highlight the doggie version of temporary blindness as a dramatic plot line. However my storyline isn’t from a soap opera, I just needed the fur around my eyes trimming.
My styling team, which girl on earth doesn’t want a team to call her own? Yes, mine is my Granny and Grandpa and they are very good at giving my fur a once over new look. Grandpa was in charge of keeping me calm and feeding me lots of scrumptious doggie chocolate drops (good job Mama J was at work otherwise she’d be begging for the drop or five as well) whilst I sat and stood on the dining room table as Granny snipped away at my fluffy bits. I know it’s not very hygienic however my small Yorkshire Terrier stature makes it difficult to trim me anywhere else in the house. I better add here that Granny dusted and vacuumed up right afterwards just in case How Clean Is Your House’s Kim Woodburn and Aggie MacKenzie happen to read this post and think we are filthy beggars!
Granny chopped and preened my fur not just with some average paper cutting scissors (Mama J has trimmed her fringe with those types of scissors in the past, please don’t tell her Hairdresser) but with my very own hairdressing thinning scissors as well as Grandpa’s clippers. My fur is being styled by the best scissors/clippers in the business, naturally for a loved and glamorous girl such as myself.
Following my chop (haircut wise of course this isn’t a new version of Nightmare On Elm Street with Granny playing the role of Frederica Krueger), it was up to the bath for the next session of my pampering day. Granny wet my fur with warm water and then massaged in my specialist dog shampoo and it foamed up all over my body. No pictures were taken (or ever will be as I’m going to get myself insured on this matter. If it is good enough for Cristiano Ronaldo legs it is good enough for me) of me in this state as I look like a scary drowned rat instead of my beautiful everyday look. After a rinse a radiator warmed towel was rubbed against me. I then ran downstairs to roll around the sofa to dry myself off further in my usual crazy manner.
I should really have got my hair done prior to Valentine’s Day as it might have increased my chances of gaining cards and gifts. Mama J and now my trucks must be driving around the countryside with our wares in their boots. Mama J’s truck has seventeen years worth of treats in it so will be collapsing now with the weight of all those cards, flowers and fluffy teddy bears. We are blaming our house for having a name and not a number above its door. Never mind the fact that every other delivery finds us no bother at all. It’s a conspiracy against love we think.
I have struck up a friendship with a new Labrador on our street named Billy. His family moved into the village last autumn and I was a little bit frosty towards him at first (a lady should always play it cool to keep the boys on their paw pads) but just recently we have become firm friends.
Billy’s Mum was walking him the other day and seems to very much approve of our friendship as she gave me a couple of yummy treats to show she was on side too. I’m hoping a play date (I’ll share my ever expanding toy basket with Billy of course) will be on the cards next to help develop our friendship further.
Now Watson of course is still my favourite boy as he was so welcoming towards me when I moved into the village but it is always great to have friendships with a variety of local pooches.