Swap

Hi, my name's Mouse and my bad habit is called swap. I know exactly what to pick up to be able to swap it for a treat from my humans. My humans refuse to do it if I pick up the wrong thing, so I have honed my skills. Coal doesn't work, they just say "go on then". That stuff that's easy to tear that's mostly white, get em moving really quick. They call it bills and that's to do. Broken bits of wood mostly gets a swap.  Wool and fabric gets My Susan moving fast for a swap. I once managed to get hold of something called a p45, a poling card. I quite like bras but I sometimes struggle with the straps dangling, they get tangled round my legs.  My windy swapped a snail with me I'd brought in the garden, but I realised that wasn't a nice thing to carry in to trade. I love our little swaps, my Humans get what they want and so do I.

Christmas

I may have said already, but, my humans constantly said "no, its furniture" during the first month, I moved in. Even the grandparents said it. Every time I even motioned to chew a wire, pull at a cushion or tug at a sofa. When Christmas came I knew that the big pretend tree, was furniture. It's certainly not a real one!  Boxes appeared and sparkling things were taken out, the house became cluttered with extra stuff, but I was good, its furniture.

This time became extra special because the coal fire is on more. The house smells of turkey and we get more stuff.  My humans are consumed with eating and sharing things I haven't seen before. I get new things, this year I got a girlie coat.

This year, we had lots of visitors. I love it. They are all coming to see me and my Humans. Al came with beautifully perfumed ham smelling hands. Katie and Olivia gave me little tickles and kind strokes and Akane shared my home for a few days, playing and eating together.

Soon the extra furniture will be packed away and the days will start to grow longer. Until next Christmas when we do it all again.

TV

The TV is a strange affair, bright lights flicker and random noises come our way.

It's not like the little box of noise they call the radio. Well, sometimes its a nice noise from the little box. I especially like a bit of those bold masculine voices and don't care for that electrical generated booms and wahs.

Getting back to the TV, I know it called this because it sometimes excites me. The first time it got my attention I thought we had Barn Owls in our living room, what a horrendous thought. I soon told it where to go and My Susan had to persuade me it wasn't real. Then raccoons really got my attention, they were cheeky little devils. Meerkats and Pine martins are interesting too.

Tonight, it's been especially interesting, the pheasant have come indoors, or so I thought at first from down the farm track. That would be a fine game. (But oh no, they were on Yorkshire in the wild). Followed by a full session of cat-a-walling, with the VET, not my VET, another one and someone called Jo. How do cats get that much TV attention, I ask, and why interrupt my cosy time in front of the fire.

TV is a strange thing, thank goodness its not on all the time, a constant noise, not as fun as the radio and sometimes quite a tease of wildlife.

Who said dogs don't have a sense of humour?

Not clever enough, they say! Another white coat but not called VET. Scientist, phoey, not sure, never met one, just hear the stories. (Something about bell and food).  The concept of humour, is beyond me, well all dogs in general, they say. I have definitely mastered sarcasm. Maybe scientist haven't spotted that comedy in us.

Sarcasm equals the tilt of my head and point one ear to the sky.  Both My Humans know this look, in Human speak it's "are you having a giraffe".

Take for example running back in house past My Susan, if I just knock behind her knee, it's a tease, then she'll turn to me. I give her a smile and it might just encourage play.

Or when I tap My Windy nose, just before an invite for a little tussle raised eyebrow. If you're not getting the sign a bit of Chinese accent does the trick "nyang, nyang, nee, nan".

Then there is the times when I pull my toy slowly out of reach from My Humans and look all innocent. A hand reaches in and I do it again, just coincidence you know.

My Windy favourite is my reverse park. Chew in mouth ready to settle for the night. I saunter over to the sofa. My Windy already cosy on the sofa. Instead of doing a couple of circles, to find a comfy spot, I actually reverse my botty right next to him. Do a full head roll with chew and make sure it lands on My Windy's lap. Certainly not OTT or over acting, no.

But mostly I think my ears, tail and smile, have expression. That's because I'm a happy dog, who shows how I feel.

Humour, no, dumb mutts. P-leaeese. (Said with that ear pointing right to the sky and eyebrow raised).

At the VET again

I had what My Susan called a milkspot on my lip and got infected. They said I had an Elvis lip, ah-ha-ha-ha and wasn't getting any better. Just a day later I was booked to see the VET. Being small, My Humans were more concerned about infection spreading than my looks.

Off we went. I made sure I pooed and had a wee right outside the entrance this time. My Windy was bag at the ready but muttered something whilst doing...something about my timing.

Yes My Susan was at work again, My Windy was my companion. He was as brave as me.

I'd played too rough at tug-o-war and agrivated a sore which became infected. Prick, pang, an injection of antibiotic and a course of 8 tablets.

Let the tablet tango begin. First two tablets went down eventually with a chew,  next two had to be hidden inside a mashed up chew. Next came with the remains of beef dinner. 6th became a chore, the beef from the day before didn't work and neither did a chew.

Hmmmm my human brains we're smoking. Eureka, get the butter out, just like children with jam on a spoon, I had a butter covered tablet, finishing the course with the same ploy. I don't mind. No fat lip and no Elvis impersonating.

It's not the cat that got the cream, it is the dog that got the sock

You cannot kid me! I know it's there.

My windy has a liking for tuna and cucumber sandwiches...and so do l. I usually get a small portion without the bread.

The best food to share, is from the slow cooker. A glorious little pot that a huge gigantic chunk of lip smacking meat goes in.  Slow cookers are an absolute tease. 6hrs of cooking meat to shear loveliness​ is 6hrs of mouthwatering aroma.  Dinner is then served, and the pot is left wafting that loveliness more. I'm no fool, I wont miss out but it drives me crazy waiting. I know that cute attentive look that persuades my humans that seconds are an absolute bonus. However I haven't learned that smells can linger. Sometimes My Susan picks me up after washing up to show me round the kitchen tops that there is nothing left. Crazy I here you say, but if My Susan doesn't do this I will spend all evening going back to where I think the meat is.