T had a funny turn yesterday. She is definitely not well and what’s more the neighbours know. Some things you can’t hide and T vacuuming the front path is very difficult to hide. Yes, that is correct, T outside with the vacuum cleaner cleaning the front path. She seemed very pleased with herself when she’d finished, thought she’d done a good job. Which I suppose she had, but it was so embarrassing – people walked past and she didn’t bat an eyelid, just said hello and carried on.

P watched it all safely from the house. Don’t know if it was fear or embarrassment that kept him inside. I certainly wasn’t venturing out, couldn’t be sure what she’d do next. Some neighbours were looking out of their windows in amazement. Now I am no expert on cleaning but I have never seen T or indeed anyone else cleaning their gardens with the vacuum cleaner before. I think she just got carried away, one minute she was in the hallway the next minute outside. She came in smiling with a vacuum filled with leaves, stones and bits of wood.

It all started with P doing some DIY. Always a worrying thing. T says he doesn’t know what he’s doing and tries to supervise and asks ‘helpful’ questions like “Did you mean to do that?” when P bangs his finger with the hammer. The front door lock needed replacing and P took it upon himself to change it and before T could object started work. Wood was flying everywhere which did not please house proud T. The lock was eventually fitted and much to T’s and my amazement worked – though it did take one or two adjustments. He quickly started to clear up as he realised the mess he’d made and that only meant trouble. But in a flash T appeared and said “Leave it to me, I’ll clear up”. P doesn’t disobey a clear and direct order like that so he meekly walked away and started to play on his Wii Fit. He likes to keep out of the way when T is cleaning.

You know the rest, T was like a woman possessed and whirled the vacuum cleaner round the hall and then before we knew it she was outside. You have to be thankful for small mercies and the only positive thing about the situation was that T didn’t sing. She likes to sing when she's cleaning. I have mentioned her singing before in my blog and that she can’t. Not only can’t she sing she seems to take a fancy to a song and sings it constantly which at the moment is Abba’s The Winner Takes it All. She has a loud voice and there is no escape when the fancy takes her. But yesterday I think she was so engrossed in cleaning the front path that she totally forgot.

A few weeks ago I heard a couple of neighbours talking when they were walking past the house. One of them said “We call that Mrs Bouquet’s house, she’s always cleaning and everything is just so”. The other one laughed and said “Oh you mean Hyacinth”. Don’t know what they meant or who Mrs Bouquet is – she certainly doesn’t live here but they were right about the cleaning.

What will people be thinking now? Not Mrs Bouquet more like Mrs Barmy. Hopefully, everyone will be sympathetic as T clearly needs help. I don’t think P knows what to do, he keeps out of the way more than ever, I am sure he checks if T is about before he moves about the house. It isn’t difficult to work out where she is as you can hear her singing - I just wish she’d choose another song.

I met the Dark Destroyer today. A fearsome encounter you might think but it appears he’s a reformed character, a shadow of his former self. Either that or he was so overwhelmed by meeting me – Paddy Fabulous Willy of West Yorkshire, that he was lost for words. Not a sound did he utter, just trotted quietly along beside his human companion. I don’t say a lot when out on a walk – don’t want to be misunderstood and hit the headlines in the local papers, celebrities have to be always on their guard. But, to be honest I can’t get a word in edgeways as T says enough for everyone. She prattles on about me, it gets embarrassing. I know I’m wonderful, handsome and extremely accomplished but she doesn’t have to tell anyone she meets. She just walks up to people and starts to talk to them; I have to drag her away. If I’m on the lead this isn’t too difficult but off the lead I have to be a bit more resourceful. Jumping up at her or the person she is talking to is good but the best is to wee on her leg or better still the person she is talking to. That usually makes her hurry away.

As she was prattling on to the Dark Destroyer’s companion I could see the DD looking at me with pity in his eyes. The companion was looking worn down by the constant chatter from T, I think he wanted to get away but T kept following him. Finally, T ran out of steam and the DD and companion hurried off. T said to me that she thought they were nice – how would she know? They didn’t say a word, she knows nothing about them, they however, know all about my delicate stomach, my constant visits to the vets, I don’t always come when I’m called (who can blame me) and I’m of unknown parentage. Things I would rather people didn’t know.

So the DD is an enigma, why is he called that? He is black like me so I can understand the dark bit but what does he destroy? Somehow I don’t think I’ll ask him when I meet him next – that is assuming that he and his companion will ever walk in the woods again after meeting T. Not sure that he’d take kindly to me asking questions and I don’t want a demonstration. I’m a bit of a DD myself, I’m black and my record of destruction is growing – slippers, newspapers, frisbees, my bed, T’s favourite fruit bowl and the odd spider to name but a few.

So Dark Destroyer by name but no longer by nature. I would like to point out that my name Paddy Fabulous Willy of West Yorkshire does accurately describe me and I hope always will.

I may have mentioned that I like to read on occasion. I know I can’t really read as I’m a dog – like the pictures though, particularly on take away menus. But there is something or someone I reckon I can read – T. I can read her like a book – well mostly. It must be said that there are times when I haven’t the faintest idea what she is doing and P is permanently baffled no matter what.

She needs managing and since P is quite incapable of this it is up to me. I try to keep her on her toes by barking when she isn’t expecting it or presenting her with a toy and demanding a game. She nearly always obliges. P is hard work and prefers to stand on his Wii Fit but T will run around the garden with me more or less on demand. I know how to make her feel guilty and then she is putty in my paws. I wouldn’t say she’s a pushover as there are some things that are clearly sacrosanct to T – “The Archers” is one. When that is on the radio there is a hush in the house while T listens. P doesn’t dare speak and creeps around; thankfully it is quite short so things return to a relative normal quite quickly. P and I keep our fingers (paws in my case) crossed that she doesn’t want to listen to the omnibus edition on a Sunday as that is very long.

I have a routine that I like to follow each day – order in life is good I think. Walk around the park first thing in the morning, T likes this as she can count the ducklings. I have to stand patiently while she counts, watching the ducklings pleases T and anything that puts her in a good mood is alright by me. Lunchtime I like a long walk and then before dinner I like either a play in the garden or a short walk in the park or woods not fussed which it is I’m very easy to please. All this is achievable through careful management.

After T and P have eaten and had a glass of wine or two they are quite amenable to a game if I present them with one of my toys, I like the ones that squeak the best. T generally plays the longest as P falls asleep. I can wake him if I squeak my toy loudly, he looks a little confused and pretends he wasn’t asleep, no one is fooled. T often falls asleep too so we go up to bed when one of them eventually wakes up. I reckon that they drink too much wine but P says it’s because he works hard – the jury’s out on that one.

I usually get what I want, its hard work at times as T does get distracted, but all I need to do is make her think that I’m in need of attention and she makes a fuss of me and takes me out. Works nearly every time. I’m not bothering with P as he isn’t really worth the effort, don’t see much potential there to get lots of walks and I don’t think the Wii Fit is really for me.

I may have mentioned that I like to go under the bed on occasion – T and P’s bed that is. I regard it as a safe place – a sanctuary from the worst excesses of T and P. It’s not infallible as T has been known to crawl under the bed when I’m not looking and grab me. But on the whole it offers peace and quiet when I need a refuge from life with T and P. I can read, eat, snooze, play, chew a slipper and watch T and P under the bed mainly undisturbed.

Although T and P know I like to go under the bed it usually takes them some time to find me – gives me some breathing space. Sometimes they think I am playing hide and seek (hide yes but I prefer not to be found) and they stand in the bedroom knowing exactly where I am and start calling me as if they can’t find me (if only). It’s sad and pathetic, they are fully grown humans but behave like children most of the time. What am I supposed to do? I stay under the bed for as long as possible, they think I am going along with their game but I am actually too frightened to come out. T makes so much noise and P just goes along with it – don’t think he knows what’s going on most of the time.

A dog needs a sanctuary. T has a garden shed, P and me are not allowed in but we both sneak in behind her back. P seems to enjoy rebelling against T’s rules but he always does it secretly – if she found out the consequences would be dire. P doesn’t like confrontation but me, I don’t care.

P has found solace in Wii Fit. He was so desperate to get it he bought it in Germany (online) he had searched West Yorkshire but it was sold out everywhere. This has given P a refuge from T. She doesn’t like computer games so pays little attention – this is a result for P. She is totally lost when he stands on this step thing and starts waving his arms and legs about staring intently at the TV screen, but leaves him undisturbed. I have watched him and I can’t say I really understand what he is doing (apart from keeping T at bay) but he seems to like it and tells T he’s making progress – progress at what remains a mystery and T shows no interest.

I like my bed but I get constantly disturbed there. T talks to me or worse sings to me. She makes up songs and insists on singing them loudly. She reckons she can sing – cats are more tuneful. For some reason since I came back from the ‘hotel’ (we don’t say the K word) she’s become obsessed with cleaning my teeth. I like the toothpaste but once I’ve licked it off the brush job done as far as I’m concerned but she keeps pushing the brush in my mouth and moving it around. I try to stop her by keeping my mouth firmly shut or chewing the brush but she is undeterred and keeps buying new toothbrushes.

So you can understand my need for a little sanctuary at times. It’s true what they say let sleeping dogs lie.

I’ve been away. The kennels to be precise. They keep saying they missed me, well why did they put me in there then? They could have stayed at home or taken me with them. They try not to say the K word and say hotel instead – some hotel! I take my own bed and food, I do have an ensuite bathroom and terrace but the room service is a little lacking as I don’t get a menu. T and P have obviously got to them as I get the same food as at home – no ribs of beef or steaks. The weather was quite nice so me and the other ‘guests’ were hoping for a barbecue (there was quite a lot of us) but no we were all fed in our rooms. Good hotels have a dining room and menus.

Came home to lots of excuses about why they had put me in there. I don’t believe them. If I was really part of the family they’d take me too – just get me a pet passport then there would be no problem.

I was ignoring their excuses and checking out the house in case they hadn’t gone away and other people and dogs had been here (I do wonder sometimes) when I heard the sound of running water. This is always a noise to be wary of. I was being called, it is always best to ignore calls when you are not sure why they want you. I hid under the bed but it wasn’t long until they found me. They were being nice to me, too nice. It was all too clear I was to have a bath. I had seen the towels and my shampoo – once tortured you never forget and I have been put through this harrowing experience several times before.

Wasn’t going to move but they had me cornered, tried to make a break for it but they got me. I turned on the charm and started licking P’s arm and looking lovingly at him. He would have relented I’m sure but T is not so easily turned and she took me firmly into the bathroom. Collar removed and in I went. It was quick but unpleasant. P was talking to me throughout but T never uttered a word, she can be quite menacing at times but when you consider what she does to slugs and snails I think I got off quite lightly.

The ‘up’ side of a bath (if there is one) is that after a stay in the kennels the smell of the place lingers on me and now I can relax in my bed (which T also cleaned) without anything to remind of my time away. All I have to do now is find some mud or horse manure to roll in and I will smell absolutely perfect!

There's no smell like home!

It has started. It didn’t take much, just a bit of sunshine. T has started her killing spree again. I am writing this under the cover of darkness in case she finds me and takes retribution. The knife has been welded and blood has been spilt – well I don’t actually know if slugs and snails have blood but if they did it will have been spilt a plenty in our garden.

Bank holidays to most people means relaxing in the garden, mowing the lawn or going out for the day. I have learnt this from observing our neighbours who all seem to live quiet non violent lives. In our house May bank holiday means it is time to search for slugs and snails and then cut them in half. T spent all afternoon gathering up leaves, looking under pots and plants and seeking out the hapless slug and the odd snail. Snails must be more intelligent and realising what was happening most had fled the garden. The slug haul was large; she is relentless and misses nothing. If only she took that much interest in my care.

The weekend got off to a bad start as I was put in the car – not always a bad thing and I had high hopes for a walk. Instead I found myself at the vets and when my guard was down the rubber gloves went on and the rest, well, you can guess. I couldn’t sit down for a while. I thought I would mention this in case the vet tries to sell his story – I am a celebrity and have to be mindful of tabloid newspapers. I do have witnesses to the incident – T and P unfortunately but it’s better than nothing.

I haven’t been able to relax all weekend as T has been patrolling the garden, knife in hand. Tried to distract her with my ball and Frisbee but she is very single-minded when she is on a mission. To make things worse P gave her a gin and tonic – not a wise thing to do when she is holding a knife.

Clearly it is going to be a scary summer and not just for the slugs and snails as I find it very disturbing to witness this carnage. She inspects her plants every day and if there is any sign of damage she spends hours trying to find the culprit. P used to work from home but doesn’t anymore – is it any wonder? Even he finds T terrifying.

This is T. I have just seen that Paddy is advertising for a PA. I am hurt. He says I am not up to the job and I don’t understand him. What is the problem? Is fame going to his head?

How quickly he has forgotten that we have given him a home, taken him away from living in a kennel and given him our love and attention. What have we done that is so wrong? Yes, I am a vegetarian but we give him meat, he is not given alcohol that is true – but he’s underage (only two yrs). I can’t tell the time and this gets me into trouble with P and I dread people stopping me in the street and asking the time. To make things worse my watch doesn’t have numbers just marks so I have to count up what the hour should be and then attempt the minutes which is very difficult. I didn’t think that I was so very late with Paddy’s meals although I have completely forgotten on occasion – nothing to do with the time and I hadn’t been drinking. He is right about throwing and catching the ball – hated netball at school for this reason.

Paddy makes us out to be so inadequate.

P doesn’t spend all his time lying on the sofa, he only watches sport at weekends (well mostly). I do have to vacuum the house as Paddy brings in lots of mud after the long walks I take him on – does he mention this? I do give him treats at times but he has to earn them and they are hypo-allergenic. Paddy has got to keep fit and slim now he’s a celebrity, does he want to go to a fat camp? I always have Paddy’s health and well being at heart. If he was left to his own devices he would be very ill. He just doesn’t accept that he is not able to eat what he wants when he wants – though he constantly tries to. I could do a tabloid exposé on what he has eaten over the years!

Well if he wants someone else to look after him so be it. I shall watch with interest to see if he gets anyone daft enough to want to work for him. If he did I can tell you that they wouldn’t last long. Paddy is very demanding. I accept this as I love him and want him to be happy but a member of staff may have a very different idea – and where are the career prospects? He didn’t mention any opportunities for promotion or even the possibility of a salary at some point. Paddy has not been on any management training so I think his supervisory skills may leave a lot to be desired.

All I can say is the grass is always greener Paddy.

I think it is time I had a personal assistant. My life is getting ever more complicated and help is needed to keep things under control. T is trying her best but she lacks some fairly basic skills and frankly she just doesn’t understand me. Just a few examples:
She doesn’t have chocolate drops to give to me on request.
She doesn’t understand the importance of a good roll in something very smelly.
I don’t need cleaning after a muddy walk.
Being on the lead is not necessary in a field of sheep or cows.
Whilst I like apple which T gives me every day at lunchtime I would prefer a bacon sandwich.
She doesn’t understand that a toothbrush is meant to be chewed and toothpaste should be licked off the brush. T tries to shove the brush in my mouth and move it around, she takes some stopping.
She is a vegetarian.

P is not a candidate for this position, the only position he knows is prostrate – on the sofa preferably with a glass of whisky in his hand. If he did have any chocolate drops in his pocket he’d eat them and forget me.

So I need someone more in tune with the way I want to live my life. I have heard T and P talk about job descriptions and person specifications when they have looked at job vacancies. I have drafted something as this could help me select the right person and deter complete no-hopers from applying.

Job Description
Post: Personal Assistant to Paddy Fabulous Willy of West Yorkshire.
Purpose: To attend to all my needs throughout the day.
Main duties and responsibilities:
Provide secretarial support to Paddy Fabulous Willy of West Yorkshire, a well known celebrity.
Answer fan mail, act as spokesperson on my behalf and deal with press enquiries making appointments as necessary.
Serve gourmet meals and treats throughout the day providing a choice of main courses for dinner.
Spend at least 3 hours a day accompanying me on walks, keeping autograph hunters and paparazzi away.
Play ball in the garden in between walks.

Salary: I don’t have any money so can’t pay a salary but just spending the day with me will be more than enough remuneration.
Confidentiality: The successful candidate will sign a confidentiality agreement which ensures that my person life remains private. Don’t want any tabloid exposés.

Person Specification
Desirable qualities of a personal assistant:
Carry dog treats.
Know how to cook and serve a rib of beef.
Like long walks.
Don’t carry a lead.
Know the difference between a kangaroo and a wallaby.
Can make a gin and tonic (this is something I would really like to try. T and P drink quite a lot of it and from what I have licked up from the floor it’s rather nice).

Essential qualities of a personal assistant:
Carry dog treats.
Can cook a rib of beef.
Will take me for long walks on demand.
Know who is in charge at all times – me.
Can’t drive so visits to the vets are out of the question.
Don’t possess a pair of rubber gloves.
Understands the problems of fame and how to support a celebrity.
Can’t use a vacuum cleaner.
Don’t like sport.
Serve my meals with a glass of red wine (T and P always have wine with their meals but omit to pour a glass for me).
Can throw and catch a ball – this is something T cannot do.
Able to tell the time. T can’t and constantly serves my meals late.

If anyone thinks they might fulfil the above criteria please do get in touch and I will arrange an interview. Though I should warn you this will include a practical task. Not finalised the details yet but it will involve going for a long walk where I will test candidates compliance with the essential and desirable qualities listed. There will also be an opportunity for candidates to impress me with their culinary skills by preparing me a meal.

Good luck!

I like to look at the local paper each week. I take it from the hall floor – as T and P don’t bother to pick it up and go into the dining room to lie under the table and have a read. Well okay, I can’t read but I do like to look at the pictures – dogs and food are my favourites. It is a little difficult to turn the pages – dogs paws weren’t made for such things so I do tear the paper on occasion. This is unfortunate I accept, but not worthy of the reaction from T and P who seem to object most strongly to the bits of paper I leave lying around. If I get disturbed during my read I take the paper up to the bedroom and go under the bed where I can usually finish my read in peace. T does crawl under the bed at times but P has never tried and probably wouldn’t fit.

You would think that they’d be pleased that I take an interest in local affairs. If there is something that catches my eye I leave the paper open at the appropriate page in the hope that they will notice. Rarely works, they are hard work at times.

I collect the post as well and even take letters to them in my mouth to let them know it has arrived. I am trying to be helpful but my reward is being told to sit and stay while one of them tries to grab the letter out of my mouth. They never say please and how can I help it if sometimes the envelope gets ripped. It’s always my fault.

It won’t deter me I shall continue to help with the post and broaden my mind with the paper. You never know there might be an article about me, I wouldn’t want to miss that and I can’t rely on T or P as they rarely bother to read it.

Knowledge is power you know so I must be quite powerful as I know quite a lot and so many things that T and P would never understand. I’d be surprised if T and P know very much at all as they take little interest in what is going on around them. P just lies on the settee watching sport or snoozing and T is always too busy vacuuming to have time to read – if she does read anything it’s the Laura Ashley catalogue. Just as well I’m a bit of a news hound and take reading the paper so seriously

Had a good walk today managed to eat a few sticks and some horse manure. T watches me like a hawk to make sure I don’t eat anything I shouldn’t. This is a problem as T’s view of what I shouldn’t eat is very different from mine. Sticks she allows but bones, bits of food, horse manure and dog poo are definitely off limits in T’s book. To me they are delicacies to be savoured.

She reports back to P everything that happens on our walks and lists what I have consumed. Poor man he must think she’s a bit fixated but he listens patiently and knows when to look shocked as T reports my so called “bad behaviour”. The horse manure seemed to have a bit of an effect and I was according to T and P a bit smelly. In other words I had wind and farted most of the day. I managed to do this silently so they had no idea when the next one was coming. T started to call me Mr Whiffy or Pongo Pooch and wave her hands about (she thinks she’s so clever). That seemed to be the signal to P that I had farted. He would pull a face and make a hasty retreat from the room.

I have no problem with farting and am not in the least bit embarrassed about it. T seems to think it is something I shouldn’t do – why? Better out than in. I am not entirely sure that every time I was accused of being Mr Whiffy it was actually me – they must do it too. Fair enough I am guilty at times (sometimes more than others) but I think I am becoming a scapegoat for their bad habits – wouldn’t like to say which one of them it is who is falsely accusing me but I have my suspicions.

False accusations and name calling won’t stop me eating horse manure or anything else I can get my paws on. I think of myself as an adventurous eater and you know what they say sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me.

Just been called Mr Whiffy again and this time it was me, better hide until T stops waving her arms.