So I’m pleased to announce that I’m fully better and absolutely fighting fit after my virus the other week. Go me! With my newly found zest for life renewed by my illness. Yes, I know it was just a tummy bug but I’m going for a dramatic epiphany moment here, so please play along with me. Following my poorly belly I’m now looking for love! It’s what we all want right? I’m no exception to this rule and after my brush with death (more drama) I feel the time is now to carpe diem/seize the day and go after what I want romance wise.
   I know I have my two boys Watson and Billy from down the road and although they are both extremely handsome, they are more play mates than anything else. What I am after is someone totally on my wave length and someone who knows the trials, tribulations and rigours of living in the public eye. A man who is comfortable with social media and its many trappings. I think I may have just found him!

This wonderful chap seems more than confident in front of the camera and with having the spotlight shone brightly on his wet little nose. My only concern is that he lives in a notoriously dangerous area of Manchester. 
   Now as you all know I’m originally from a mean and badass city environment myself. However my paws have gotten so used to walking the rural pathways. I just don’t know if I’m altogether street wise enough these days to contemplate a long distance relationship with someone who lives in such a scary area. His street is a hive of criminal activity as well as there being a tram crash there a few years back. I suppose I’m only small and I can move quite quickly, so evading the next speeding vehicle hopefully won’t be too much of a problem for me. There is just the matter of all these murders on one road alone since 9th December 1960 and the fact that his newly adopted family did bury a body under their annexe. Mind you the press said he was a gangster and there were extenuating circumstances. So paws crossed I should be safe then?

Anyway I must tell you more about David, the new love of my life. I spotted him a few weeks back when Mama J was watching the television and my eyes nearly popped out of my head, he’s just scrumptious as Mary Berry would put it. He is an absolutely gorgeous Yorkshire Terrier just like me. Tick, there’s one thing we have in common already! He was gifted in a will to his new owner, also named David. His previous owner had liked David so much when he did her hair at his salon she named her precious dog after him. What a lovely chap David the person must be! Surely he wouldn’t call his Mum by her first name, Gail all the time and once throw her down the stairs. He wouldn’t cover up a murder or scar an innocent lady as he tried to drive a car full of petrol to a court building, in the hope of blowing it up and mortally injuring another man. Poor Anna what did she ever do to David?

So if you haven’t guessed already I’m more than a bit smitten with David the dog on Coronation Street. Although my family are getting worried as I keep going on Mama J’s Facebook and typing in Coronation Street just to see the latest images of him. When I’m not doing that I’m watching the last weeks episodes on repeat just to get a fleeting glance of him and his cute Yorkshire Terrier features. I’ve even found the pause and rewind buttons on the remote control so I can take in his full splendour, over and over again! I now know how all these teenage girls felt about One Direction when they were in their prime. Oh he does make my heart flutter.
I’m thinking of writing him a love letter to tell him how I feel and also what I can offer in terms of my dazzling, carefree and funny personality. Not to mention my social standing, as I’m a girl who can handle publicity as well as offer him support with all his media attention too. I also feel I can offer him sanctuary if living with the Platt’s eventually gets too much for him. I would hate for my poor love David to be in any danger.

Right folks I’m off to beautify myself for 7.30pm and 8.30pm should I catch a glimpse of the lovely David in tonight’s double bill. Although I do think they maybe concentrating on who pushed stalwart Ken Barlow down the stairs!


Now remember my diva turn last time I blogged. “Which one?” I hear you all cry. Okay you all thought I was getting too big for my Yorkshire Terrier pawed booties. Well, a lot can happen in just under a week. Especially with regard to my stomach!
   It turns out that I wasn’t being rude to my food at all. Sorry to my usual very expensive (so Mama J tells me) brand of dog food but just like the Loreal television commercials says, “I’m worth it!” and of course so are you, you scrumptious bowl full of yummy delight! Think I’ve just about managed to excuse myself for turning my hog up at my dinners.

On Monday we (that is my collective family) all thought that I was over my strop and turning back to the light/good side of eating all of my breakfasts and dinners up once more. However the evil that was lurking in my gut had other ideas on Tuesday morning. This evil was pure demonic and bubbled in my belly like hell on earth. Oh I’m quite good at creating dramatic effect. Perhaps a role on Line Of Duty’s writing team could beckon? Although I don’t know whether my nerves could take it even if I was in the “know” twisting plot wise.
   Granny put my bowl of grub out and I didn’t surface from my bed, which is in fact a shared bed between Granny, Grandpa and I. We like to keep it cosy in our house! Granny decided to take me out (Paddy McGuinness sadly was not included and we just went down the lane not to the Isle Of Fernando's) for my walk and then try me with a bit of breakfast when we got back. 
   On my return I still didn’t want any of my usual food so Granny decided rice and chicken was the order of the morning. To us doggie folk rice and chicken is like a human having chicken soup or in Mama J’s case a chucky egg and soldiers when we’re ill. It’s meant to be good for the stomach.
   I managed to keep it down and at lunchtime I was hassling Granny for more rice. She obliged in giving me a little bit more before my afternoon walk and all was going well until we got part way down the road with my new friend Bentley and then… Blurrrrr! I was sick again. Granny gave my apologises to Bentley’s Mum and assured her that I wasn’t hungover at 4.20 in the afternoon. I might be a social media starlet but Mama J’s non rock and roll lifestyle really has rubbed off on me far too much. I might throw my toys around the living room but no televisions have ever gone through any windows!
   Once we got home I had mad fit on the sofa, rolling around, legs akimbo and then I ended up having a proper fit when I got so excited at seeing our neighbour walking down her driveway. Honestly the things that make me go all peculiar. Yes, my back legs just gave way and I began to tremble. My seizure only lasted a few moments and Granny’s voice, cuddles and love soothed me through it all. 
   Granny had to tell Mama J when she got home from work and then Grandpa when he got in too and it was decided (they do an awful lot of deciding in my house) that if I wasn’t right in the morning that I was off to the Vets.
That night I was like a Jack In The Box jumping on and off the bed. I’d go sit on the landing and at one point ran down the stairs and waited at the back door for Granny to let me out to be sick again. My stomach was moaning and groaning like a scene from the Fifty Shades Of Grey movies (oh I’m being blue today) and I still didn’t want my breakfast on Wednesday morning. Decisive action was taken and I was off to the Vets that afternoon.
   When we arrived the Veterinary Nurse was sorting out the rotas for the afternoon clinic as the morning clinic was abandoned due to all the Vets being called out on an emergency. After being given the name of three Vets that would be seeing me, (I hope they weren’t drawing straws in the operating theatre. I’m not that bad now they’ve learnt to muzzle me before giving me the once over) I ended up with a very kindly Vet examining me and he said that he thought I had a virus in my tummy. See I’m not a fickle diva after all. He advised Mama J and Granny to feed me a dessert spoonful of food every couple of hours and see how I got on. He said to do this for the next five days.

Anyway I’m pleased to announce that following my Vets visit I was feeling so much brighter by Thursday evening. I’m now back on my normal eating regime and also managed to gain some extra doggie sausage treats in the process. Result!

Happy Easter, all you lovely people.


I must start with a heartfelt apology to all my readers for doing a Jean-Claude Van Damme on them  and going AWOL last week. I am referring to Jean-Claude’s character in the movie although I haven’t gone missing in action from the Foreign Legion. So my crimes aren’t too bad and hopefully I won’t be getting court marshalled just yet!
   My absence of typing this wonderful comedy tale was due to the drilling and banging sounds coming from the kitchen area. No, folks Mama J isn’t turning into a frustrated Chef. Sorry I was under the impression that all Chef’s were slightly frustrated/hot headed/bad tempered buggers. She hasn’t brought out her inner Delia and learnt how to stressfully boil an egg.
   The banging was the kitchen fitters moving cupboards, removing tiles and putting new electrical points in ready for Granny’s (notice I said Granny’s and not Mama J’s, she won’t be going anywhere near the cooker unless Granny is away) new Everhot cooker which will be getting its grand unveiling in a few weeks time. Someone please call the local Mayor for rope cutting duties and I’ll send out a press release.
   Anyway I couldn’t get myself in the zone at all for writing as the noise wasn’t at all intuitive with doing creative work of the comedy turn variety. I’m sure Peter Kay, French and Saunders and Miranda Hart couldn’t pull off amusing greatness with bang, bang, bang going on. Therefore I don’t see why I should have to. Even though I am still trying to cut my comedy teeth as it were!

I’m turning into a bit of a social media celebrity (I have over 500 Instagram followers and counting) and if they ever make the Yorkshire version of TOWIE or Made In Chelsea, I’m there! However until that point of television stardom beckons, I must say my local villagers have noticed my talents with the written word. I “pawed” a piece for our village newsletter which went as follows:-

If you don’t already know me my name is Elsie, I’m a Yorkshire Terrier and I’m a barkaholic! I was adopted from the RSPCA in December 2014 and brought to the village by my new family. I had them wrapped around my little paw the minute I ran around them all and licked each of their ears in the socialisation area. I’m a girl who knows how to work a room to maximum effect.
Marble, the families Cocker Spaniel and my furry companion, showed me the ropes (mainly where the treat cupboard was and how to howl for lasagne every fortnight) until sadly he passed away last February, when I became top dog, a role I feel I’m exceptionally good at.
I’m very selective when it comes to making friends with other pooches as a lot of you may know, due to my lack of socialisation as a puppy, protectiveness of my family, a bad experience or whatever today’s reasoning behind my barking may be. I was put in therapy by my family which involved a lot of clicking (but not the penny dropping kind) and cheese, lots of yummy cheese! Although I must be a complex soul as it can depend on the weather, a full moon or my mood as to how I react towards another four legged frenemy.
I have a few doggie mates now who have gotten passed my noisiness (ear defenders do work a treat) and seen my loveable side, however I would ask if the rest of you could bear with me as I’m still a work in progress.

This article has gone down an absolute storm in the village and as I have been walking around the vicinity with my Granny and Grandpa I have been getting high praise from the public on my writing skills. William Shakespeare clearly didn’t have anything on me.

However fame has come at a high price for my ever loving family and this has happened in the form of a downturn in my behaviour. As my family have been eating out more, due to their lack of a cooker and then bringing me tit bits home from their meals (yes the customary doggie bag) and also bringing home cooked chickens from the supermarket. I have started not to want to eat my usual dog food without any meaty/cheesy enhancements.
   On Saturday morning I could smell a waft of left over chicken coming from inside the fridge as Granny opened the door to get my usual tinned food out. She prepared my breakfast and I refused to eat it and instead kept turning around and staring at the fridge door then back at Granny.
   When I got back from my morning stroll with Grandpa I decided that starving myself might not be the answer and decided to eat my breakfast. I’d never save the world by going on hunger strike for an animal/human rights cause would I? My bellies urges would get the better of me in the end.
   Granny was concerned at first as she thought I might be feeling unwell especially due to the fact that I was sick on Wednesday afternoon. However this was more of an excitement sickness due to Mama J bringing me a Good Boy Lob It Space Lobber home from the pet store. At first I assaulted (please don’t call the Police I really am sorry) Mama J by chucking in at her head then I got myself so worked up I spewed all over a cushion. I’m such a grateful madam!
   Also I was sick again on Saturday afternoon due to a bit of steak Grandpa brought home from the pub being slightly too rich for me. This time I projectile vomited all over Granny’s trousers.
   However my not eating has been of the purely diva nature as I have continued looking at the fridge and then Granny throughout the last few days. My family have cottoned onto this behaviour and Mama J is actually very impressed!
   She said she thinks my behaviour is a stroke of pure genius and she’s wondering whether they do a Mensa test for pooches. Now can I have another tasty treat for been a clever girl?