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.

There is a problem – it’s technical and T doesn’t do technical that is P’s responsibility. T and I work from home, T does the admin on the computer and I am the creative one. T doesn’t always appreciate my creativity and that sometimes I get my best ideas when out on a walk. This means I need lots of walks throughout the day, barking and playing also help the creative juices flow. I can’t do this alone (I’d go for a walk by myself but T would object) so T has to assist.

But back to the technical problem. P has spent a lot of time sitting at the computer and tapping away – he tells T that he has tried all sorts of things but nothing is working. He would tear his hair out if he had any. T just stands there looking expectant while P goes into long explanations of what he could try next. Even she knows better than to offer solutions, T has no idea how to use her mobile phone let alone the TV remote. She doesn’t switch her mobile phone on and the last time she did she had to ask P what to do – I am not exaggerating. If we are home alone and watching TV I keep my paws crossed that nothing goes wrong because if it does T is stuck. She presses all the buttons and then gives up. P has to sort out the mess, he has given up asking her what she has done as T has no idea.

P decided to ring a helpdesk, he had to answer all sorts of questions and give numbers which were on the computer. This was a challenge to P as he had to crawl under the desk and then he couldn’t read the number as it was too small. P started to panic and called T but she couldn’t read it either and all the time there was someone waiting on the phone. T had to rush to get her glasses and manoeuvre herself under the desk but she managed to read the number and P who had been continually apologising to the person on the phone finally got some advice. Didn’t seem to help much, P still didn’t know what was wrong.

T left P to it, thought I might get a walk but no – another opportunity wasted to be creative. Eventually, P appears looking triumphant, he has solved the problem, T declares him a genius (I think that is taking things a bit far). Suddenly all is well and the house is calm, P can go and watch some rugby happy in the knowledge that he is a techno wiz and T can get on with her work which keeps her out of his way.

P has never really said what was wrong or how it happened, bet it was something T had done but P is too scared to say. A small price to pay for a quiet life and he’ll know what to do next time it happens – well maybe.