Paddy's Blog

P is not always keen to go for a walk it must be said. Fortunately, T is, so I go out everyday at least twice and have plenty of games in-between. In fact T is a keen advocate of keeping fit and believes that the way to a long life and happiness is plenty of fresh air and exercise, her favourite being walking, which suits me. P does not go along with this philosophy and believes that you must preserve your energy by lying down as much as possible, preferably on the sofa watching sport. T likes watching tennis and loves Wimbledon, but will interrupt her viewing to play with me – unless Andy Murray is playing, then I have no chance.

P is aware that T expects him to come with us for a walk at least once a week, not much you might think but for P this is a massive undertaking and cannot always be achieved. Personally, I think he finds any excuse he can to have some time on his own while me and T are out. It does mean that I have to cope with her on my own but I just ignore her most of the time.

P’s latest excuse is a damaged toe; he claimed he did it by tripping up the stairs while me and T were out on a walk. Not so sure myself, P likes a drop of whisky now and again and usually comes to bed last and so has to creep about in the dark. I bet he did it the night before and doesn’t want T to know he’d had a few too many. He proudly showed us both the bruised toe and proclaimed it must be broken, I trod on it to test this out and P did jump several feet in the air so maybe he’s right.

Rather than limping around the house P has chosen to lie on the sofa and ask T to bring things to him, amazingly she is! T seems genuinely concerned, this is new to me and judging from P’s reaction it’s new to him too. She even told him not to come for a walk with us! Don’t know how long P will be able to spin this one out, once the bruising has gone T will expect him to come walking with us again. But I have to hand it to P, every now and again he outwits T.

I shall watch and learn.

My tummy is much better now but I’ve a rash on my neck. T is covering me with ointment and making me wear socks so I can’t scratch. I don’t have my own socks but hand-me-downs of P’s so they never fit properly. I have been wearing a pair with Daffy Duck on them, why P wanted to wear them I don’t know (T probably bought them) but he clearly doesn’t want to now and I can’t blame him. I’m not allowed to wear my collar in the house because of my neck rash and have to wait for the ointment to sink in before I am allowed to go out with my collar on. It’s all so complicated.

Despite this, I went to a country show at the weekend, had to wear a soft fleece cover on my collar (to protect my neck), as we were there all day, but not socks. I felt a bit over dressed wearing my collar cover but loads of dogs were at the show and most had dressed for the occasion so I was not out of place. T had a stall at the show (she makes pet bedding which I have to product test, life is so hard) so I was with P most of the time looking round. Saw lots of horses jumping over fences (I can do that) and a sheep being sheared – by an Australian! I wanted to tell him I’ve seen a wallaby but we didn’t stay long enough.

It was a tiring day and I had to spend some time resting on T’s knee, I’d tried lying on the grass but it was uncomfortable. This did make it difficult for T to serve customers but she managed, she’s quite resourceful at times. I did attract attention so T couldn’t object; I am Paddy Fabulous Willy of West Yorkshire after all!

Now you might think that my life is not so bad and I shouldn’t complain, well I would just like to say that this morning T took me to the park to play ball but she forgot to take my socks off. Would you want to be seen in public in Daffy Duck socks?

T has now put me in a lilac pair so she can’t fail to notice that I’m wearing them. But there is no way I’m wearing white socks.

Sorry I’ve been a bit quiet lately. It will not surprise you to know that I haven’t been well; in fact I have not been well for some time. Seeing a dermatologist to find out why I get rashes and my hair has been falling out. The good news is I am not bald; I do have however, a rather large shaved area on my left side and a spotty pattern on my exposed skin.

How could this have happened? A few days ago I was taken in the car to the veterinary hospital for tests T said, tests for what she didn’t say. Wasn’t happy when we got there and thought I would do the terrified dog routine, started to tremble and look pathetic (I am rather good at this) but as usual T was immune and led me into a room and left me there. I don’t remember much after that, but I must have fallen asleep as the next thing I knew I was waking up and was still in the room but no T (you could say that was a positive). She was called in and seemed relieved to see me, which was worrying as she knew where I was, what had happened to me? My left side felt itchy and I was very groggy but nothing hurt, but I couldn’t see what had happened to my side.

When we got home, don’t remember much of the journey, slept most of the time, I went to look at my side in the mirror and to my horror saw that I had been shaved and there was this rather strange pattern on my skin, lots of dots in rows. Now I know that my skin is not normally exposed so I don’t actually know what it looks like but I am sure that it doesn’t have a spotty pattern. I began to worry and thought T had taken me for a tattoo, what else could it be? What would P say? He was not around and didn’t reappear until a couple of days later, was he keeping out of the way? Had he gone for a tattoo? Why a spotty pattern? I would have preferred something a bit more impressive; T’s brother has Pegasus tattooed on his back.

T must have realised I was shocked and explained that the dermatologist had shaved my side (yes, just like T to blame it on someone else) and carried out allergy tests. This explained the spots, dabs of different substances likely to cause an allergic reaction. I was positive on pollen; basically I am allergic to grass. Shame that as I like to lie on the lawn and I’m not averse to eating a spot of grass now and again.

So no tattoo and the spots have faded now, hair is taking it’s time in growing back but it does get me noticed. P didn’t seem concerned when he eventually came home, he doesn’t have a tattoo either, but he does have an earring, I’ve a chip in my ear and that’s quite enough. I also have no idea why I needed to have hair removed to find out why I was losing hair but it's growing back, bet P wishes his would.

Was put in the tub of doom again this Sunday, it happens every weekend now. I haven’t been well but this doesn’t stop them, although now it’s a shower not a bath, which for some reason they think is better. Been on hunger strike since Saturday in protest, hasn’t made any difference. You’d think they’d take pity on me and leave me alone when I’ve just recovered from a temperature of 103 but no T prepared the torture chamber. I went into the garden for sanctuary but T found me and like the condemned dog I had to walk (very slowly) to the tub of doom and await my fate, which in this case is a shower.

The only one I have to turn to is P, which means there is no hope of rescue; T has no heart and P has no courage. Just call me Toto, never Dorothy.

Don’t understand it but I seem to be doing as T tells me. This shouldn’t be so, she has done very little to deserve my obedience, but I just don’t seem to be able to help myself. She has been practising her ‘calm assertiveness’ techniques, reading her pack leader book and standing with her head in the air. It’s bad enough that she won’t look at me until I’m doing as she commands but it’s even worse when neighbours try to say hello. She says “wait” in her new commanding tone and doesn’t look at them until they’ve sat down on the pavement. It’s gone too far, the book has to go.

Where is P? Is he putting up with this? You might well ask. P has taken the usual line of least resistance and spends most of his time lying on the sofa quietly out of T’s way or he says he has “things to do” and disappears somewhere. What things? What does P do? There is very little evidence that he has actually done anything, ever. He should be concentrating on what T is reading and the effect it has on her. She read a book about Stalin recently, that combined with the pack leader book have obviously been a dangerous combination. Why can’t she read Mills and Boon?

I have heard that War and Peace is a long read, that or, A Brief History of Time should keep her quiet. Whatever happens the pack leader book has to be disposed of, and very soon. I am rapidly losing my friends as everyone avoids T. Wish I could.

I can’t believe it. T hasn’t nominated me for an OK9 Magazine Award. If you remember I was voted Nosiest Dog of 2007 but this year nothing. I started to get worried a few weeks ago. Last year I got the letter telling me of my success after Christmas but this year I have been watching the post in eager anticipation and nothing has arrived. I confronted T, who, hand on her heart admitted she hadn’t nominated me for a 2008 award, even though she’d promised she would, for Naughtiest Dog. I have worked so hard over the past year, and for what? I deserve an award – any award would do I’m not fussy. After all I am Paddy Fabulous Willy of West Yorkshire! Not only that I bark at everyone who walks past the house; I have a dermatologist; seen a wallaby; can multi task; I’m clean – not particularly proud of this, but it must count for something; and last but not least I saved Christmas!! Santa would have nominated me if he’d known.

It won’t surprise you to know that I am very disappointed. All I’ve done should have earned me a special mention, maybe even a Nobel Prize for Services to Christmas, there must be one. T said she just forgot, it’s not good enough. The pair of them continually let me down, I’d leave but as Kylie said better the devil you know. T has been somewhat contrite and said she would contact OK9 Magazine to see if they can do something especially for me. Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, T thinks it’s never too late. I should be so lucky.

T has been reading a book. She wants to learn how dogs think and become ‘pack leader’. What pack is this? Is there something she’s not telling me? T now struts around the park and I’m supposed to obey her. It is embarrassing, her head held high imagining she is someone important and talking to me in a firm voice. Who does she think she is - Anne Robinson?

Every time I try to take her to a particularly interesting spot to have a sniff she stops and we have to stand still for a few minutes, all the time T has her head in the air. What is this supposed to achieve? All it does is hold me up, I have to wait until she starts to move again before I can go to the sniff place, which I always do, of course.

I know T has been reading all about dog psychology because she keeps telling me, usually when we are having a walk. It can get a little tedious at times but it stops her from singing so it does have some use. She has told me how I am supposed to react when she does commanding things. So I intend to do the opposite and she will think it doesn’t work and give up, everything can then go back to normal. Normal being I take T for a walk and we go where I want. Apparently, this psychology thing is about thinking you’re in charge and then you will be. Well, P thinks he’s slim but he isn’t.

I have noticed that T’s new ‘calm assertiveness’ as she calls it has had an effect - on P. He has become very obedient; he even offered to cut the grass the other day. All T did was mention that it needed cutting and he immediately said he’d do it, unheard of normally. P is not a man of action.

According to this psychological approach the dog is supposed to become ‘calm submissive’. I’m calm but never submissive. P however, is a different matter, submissive is his middle name these days, there’s only one thing to say – P, you are the weakest link. Goodbye!

I’ve been to that ‘k’ place again. All it takes is a bit of sunshine for T and P to take off to pastures new. I don’t know where they go but I wish they’d take me with them.

They are getting very sly these days, hiding any sign of a trip away. The suitcase doesn’t come out of the cupboard until the last minute so I have no time to jump in and hide or pack a bag of my own. I’ve always thought that T would want to take me with them and what T wants T gets, P has no option. But they don’t, so I must assume that it’s down to her. It’s a problem that needs addressing, but I am not sure how to go about it as I’m whisked off to the kennels before you can say Paddy Fabulous Willy of West Yorkshire. So I can’t cling to her leg as she is going out of the door and I certainly can’t appeal to her better nature as she hasn’t got one.

I know they’ve been away as I can tell by the smell of the house when they eventually fetch me home. If they won’t take me with them why can’t they leave me at home to look after the place? I know where my food is and if they left the doors open I could go in and out, no problem. Could even have my friends round for a little party, we wouldn’t make a mess we’re all house trained. Opening the gin might be a problem but I am sure we’d manage, we don’t need ice or lime but tonic would be good. As long as no one asked for cocktails I’d be fine.

There are no mini bars in the rooms at the ‘k’ place, don't think alcohol is allowed, so maybe I could try to smuggle in a bottle of gin the next time I go, as I know there will be a next time. It would certainly help to make the time go quickly and I bet the other inmates would appreciate a party. I just need to find mixers and glasses. Do you think swizzle sticks would add that extra touch?

According to T only females can multitask. I would like to dispute this, not that I’m saying T can’t multitask, she can vacuum, tidy up, throw a toy for me and sing at the same time without any difficulty. T says the secret to successful multitasking is planning. This surprises me as she doesn't seem to plan much, particularly were I am concerned. If I didn't constantly remind her I doubt I would ever get a walk. But I digress, I would like it noted that dogs can multitask too, or at least I can. As for male humans I’m not so sure, P has not demonstrated a talent for multitasking, the best he can manage is lying on the sofa and falling asleep at the same time and if he’s really clever he can snore as well. Mind you, when you take into account that he is trying to watch TV whilst doing this I suppose you could say he is multitasking but it isn't planned.

Me however, I can carry my ball and wee at the same time which takes some concentration. Particularly when you take into account that I do this in the park where there are many distractions such as food, ducks and squirrels. Haven’t mastered eating and holding the ball at the same time yet but I’ll get there. But I can lick my willy, fart and keep an eye on what is happening, P could never do that.

Had my bath on Saturday afternoon. Realised what was going on and stayed well away from the bathroom, but T and P started playing with my favourite squeaky ball and I couldn’t let that go on without me. It didn’t strike me at the time that they just happened to be playing outside the bathroom door. As soon as I joined in the game they grabbed me and led me into the torture chamber aka the bathroom. The instrument of torture had been prepared and next thing I knew my collar was off and I was in what T and P refer to as the bath but I call the tub of doom.

I tried to explain that I was allergic to baths but they wouldn’t listen. The situation was eased a little by P feeding me treats during the whole terrifying experience, never too frightened to eat. It was over quite quickly though they made me stand in the tub of doom for 5 minutes covered in lather; apparently that’s what it said on the bottle. T’s never been one to follow instructions before, particularly anything P says, so why she had to this time I don’t know.

Slept for the rest of the afternoon, I was completely exhausted after my ordeal. T was too occupied with cleaning the torture chamber after my trial in the tub of doom to bother me. I’d managed to make a mess and cover them both in water by shaking whilst in the tub of doom and covered in lather and then again when I was out and still very wet. There has to be some compensation for the victim.

I‘m not going to get caught out again, they may think they are clever but I won’t forget such treatment in a hurry. They’ll get what they deserve for this, every dog has his day.