Since I last pawed a blog post I’ve been abandoned by my Granny and Grandpa not once but twice and for multiple days at a time. I wasn’t just left to fend for myself but Mama J also! You see having Mama J as my appropriate adult didn’t ensure an easy ride whilst my human grandparents were away on their jollies, as you are all about to find out.
The first time I was cast aside in favour of the bright lights of Brighton, Portsmouth and Winchester was way back in July. The World Cup was in full swing and England were riding high on the crest of a beautiful wave into the semi-finals. We all know what happened next, so I won’t go into anymore footballing detail, other than to say the St. George’s flags that Mama J tied to our railings for the world to see, were swiftly removed two minutes after the final whistle had been blown. She was in and out faster than a cheetah on speed.
Whilst I was robustly in charge of Mama J that week we had daily security incidents. No, please don’t worry we weren’t involved in any Bodyguard style terrorists plots. These were more low risk in nature but frightening for me all the same. As a fearsome guard dog with a very ferocious sounding bark, I like to make sure my home is safe from predators. Now I’m not just talking predators of the human burglar kind but also visiting squirrels, Flora our neighbour’s cat and most recently sparrow hawks. Well, someone’s got to protect the sparrows and their nuts!
So you can imagine what I thought to the door being left unlocked whilst we were out for our tri-daily strolls. This had to happen though as Mama J simply couldn’t lock the door due to the wood swelling up with the excessive summer heat.
At first she tried putting her back into it, as she thought it required brute force of the ultimate Ross Kemp nature but when that didn’t work, she thought that trying to create a new dance routine with the handle being her Anton Du Beke replacement partner might work. This could’ve being the next Floss, another Internet sensation had it actually worked. It went along the lines of down with the left hip, shift the right leg backwards pulling on the door handle with her right hand and trying to turn the key with her left hand. Mama J it turns out is worse at learning dance moves than Ann Widdecombe, John Sergeant, Jeremy Vine and Susannah Constantine combined.
Following this failure Mama J decided drastic door locking measures were required. She took a duster and polish to the front door and started spraying the handle and locking mechanism. I hardly think turning into Kim and Aggie and frenziedly cleaning the door would work and guess what, it didn’t.
She then thought taking the heat out of the door might work, so went to the freezer, pulled out an ice pack and started thrusting it at the door for around twenty minutes. When she came back inside the door was still swollen up but Mama J looked more like Olaf from Frozen. If it hadn’t have been nearly 30 degrees outside I think she’d actually have put the heating on to warm her hands up.
Towards the end of the week Mama J’s hands were getting sore from the handle rubbing them to shreds. No amount of moisturising hand cream was going to sort the reddening friction burn out quickly, so action needed to be taken, action in the form of rubber gloves! The inner workings of Mama J’s mind told her that creating traction between her hand and doorknob may allow her to turn the key without causing greater skin damage. She got me ready, lead, harness and all and donned her boots and rubber gloves. Now Mama J, I think has a long standing fetish for rubber as in her partying days she proudly wore purple rubber trousers. If you really use your imagination you could take this fashion look one stage further and put Mama J in purple rubber trousers, with green rubber wellington boots and the ever stylish blue rubber gloves. What a vision I’ve created for you all today! Dress up time didn’t really work either other than to cause embarrassment for Mama J and I when our neighbours walked by looking strangely at us, So Mama J and I became vampires and had to go out looking for blood before sunrise and after sunset, which suited my embarrassment levels and the front door no end.
So you can imagine my delight when Granny and Grandpa told me they were jetting off to Lisbon for a few days the other week. This time there were no security issues and we could stop just racing up and down our road and actually leave the confines of our village. Not only did we go to our neighbouring villages but we travelled in the car to a local retail park. I got excited when I saw the golden arches of McDonald’s, as I thought Mama J was going to take me to the drive-through and get me some French fries and scrumptious chicken McNuggets. Mama J had other ideas and instead of turning in for belly filling food decided to take me to a forecourt. There wasn’t just one car showroom but several all in a line. Are we going to replace Matt LeBlanc on the next series of Top Gear? Oh no that’s not The Stig, it’s just one of the garage mechanics getting ready to service another motor. As we strolled along I could see that Mama J’s luxury lady complex heightened as we walked passed the Volvo franchise and peaked when we got to the Audi one. However I being a Yorkshire Terrier preferred a better value car and tried to drag Mama J towards a Vauxhall Corsa. When we got back to Mama J’s Mini, Primrose and set off home her exhaust snorted in disgust that we’d viewed other cars in such an enthusiastic manner. I think if she wasn’t an automatic she’d even have stalled herself!