Oodles of Poodles and a Staffie too!

The summer is coming!  The sun is, sometimes, out!  It is time for THE POODLES AND STAFFIE ADVENTURES!  

Awww, ain't they cute!  On the left is 'P' (names hidden to protect identities lol).  This little lady is 6 years old but she is a total lady.  P walks very elegantly, refuses to talk to you until she has known you for at least a year and is so wonderfully trained.  She is totally amazing and so cute and cuddly!  

In the middle we have 'A'.  A is not even a year old yet, still full of puppy bounciness.  Full of mischief and love, A knows that everyone is her new best friend.  She is totally in love with D and sometimes wets herself a little bit in her total excitement of seeing him, bless.  

Last but not least we have 'D', the wee staffie boy.  D is 3 years old, gorgeous and loving (my boy so I'm only slightly biased) and he loves his poodles and his auntie (Poodle Momma).  

These three have created an unlikely pack but it works so well.  P does not really speak English.  Poodle Momma is from Europe and so only speaks to the poodles in her native tongue (this has taught me how to say sit in a different language!  Totally fluent now, I can visit this country and repeatedly tell people to sit and possibly lay down.  I may even be able to ask them for a paw!  All useful stuff haha).  So P kinda looks at you in disgust when you try to communicate in English to her.  I have found that if I'm not brandishing a tasty treat, my words are inconsequential.  

A, I think, is the translator.  She has learnt to speak Poodle Momma's native language but her daddy (and everyone else around her) speak English thus she is able to translate for P and communicate with D.  A does not need bribery of treats, though they are always welcome.  She just wants love and cuddles and kisses, especially from D.  

D, he's pure English.  He's not quite getting the foreign language that Poodle Momma speaks to him in but he loves her anyway.  When we are all together, D ignores me and does whatever Poodle Momma asks grrr.  This can be frustrating, especially when we're at dog training.  

For example, one night at training, we are all told to heel our dogs.  Poodle Momma commands P to come to her heel by tapping her thigh.  P instantly does as she's told.  D also runs over and heels to Poodle Momma and totally ignores my commands to heel to me.  When Poodle Momma calls P over to her, D tries to run over as well!  He loves his auntie so much but just occasionally I wish that he could look well trained and as if he loves me, sigh.  

So we have been having adventures with our pack and we've clocked up some stories.  There was the time that Poodle Momma and I took our beloved furbabies up to the local field.  D and A began charging around like mad things with P refereeing their play fighting.  Poodle Momma and I chatted with one another, fussed the horses in the next field, told the furbabies to "play nice" and just enjoyed the fact that we were out in the fresh air and the dogs were tiring themselves out without any need for input from us.  Well, I remember that I was looking at Poodle Momma as she was speaking and then it all went weird.  I heard her gasp but I was no longer looking at her.  I heard her laughing but at what I could not see.  All I could see was the grass!  I was confused.  I was no longer in a vertical position but a horizontal one.  What on earth was going on?  Poodle Momma, explained through fits of giggles as she helped me up.  D and A had become so engrossed in chasing each other that they were unaware of their surroundings and had charged straight through me.  I had had a combined weight of 40 kilos of fast moving dogs charging at me and taking my legs out.  Oh how I love nature and dogs.  It wouldn't have been so bad but 5 minutes later they tried to do it again!  Poodle Momma spotted it though and managed to shout a warning to me.  Should I be concerned that the dogs find it great sport to knock me down?  

Yesterday was a good trip out.  We decided to take the 'pack' down to the beach and that we (the humans) would have a little picnic.  What could possibly go wrong?  

Well, we began with poor A getting so excited that she wet herself a little bit.  This did nothing to help poor Poodle Momma's frazzled mood.  We got our sandwiches, our drinks and snacks and loaded the dogs into the car.  "I haven't fed A today so she shouldn't be sick" Poodle Momma informs me.  You see, poor A gets travel sick and the last time she was ill in the car was hilarious.  Poor D got covered in it and we found out that both Poodle Momma and myself are hopeless at cleaning up sick.  

We began our journey and all that could be heard from the car is "Will you sit DOWN!  Don't chew her foot.  Why are you not strapped in?  Stop hitting him in the face with your tail!  Yes, I love you too.  Don't sit on him.  Don't push her off the seat!"  In the end, Poodle Momma and I disconnected ourselves from the back of the car and let them sort it out while we chatted and enjoyed the scenery.  We finally got to the beach and the dogs were bouncing.  

We open the car doors and there's an explosion of poodles and staffie!  Dogs are going everywhere and we just stand there a bit shell shocked.  We manage to grab them, grab our sandwiches and head off for the beach.  Through a hole in the wall which I'm sure is much narrower than it used to be, ahem.  Through a field of sheep, or walking fluffy clouds.  Down onto the sand, ahhh.  Like kids, the dogs take off, kicking sand up everywhere.  Straight to the water, back up to us, all around in a big circle!  Poodle Momma and I find a sheltered area and sit down to eat.  We're smiling; feeling happy and beginning to feel the stresses of life fade away.  Then the dogs are back with us.  We have food, can they have some?  Why are we sat down?  Come on, move, move, move!  AAAARRRGH.  

Suddenly, D finds a rock.  He is obsessed with rocks and he starts digging around it and chucking it.  That's fine, he's occupied.  Poor A stares at him in total confusion.  She doesn't get the excitement of the rock.  She picks up a rock and tries to copy him but she can't see why he's going nuts over a stupid rock.  Poodle Momma and I laugh and begin to eat our sandwiches which suddenly become actual sandwiches.  D is not paying attention to where he is  and suddenly he's kicking sand all over us!  Well, what's a picnic on the beach if you don't have that lovely gritty feel in your mouth?  

We finished eating and walked a short way across the beach with fluffies.  It was here that I found out that Poodle Momma has a fear of water.  You see, to get to the next part of the beach you had to take 5 steps across where the waves were coming in.  The waves were not deep so even if they caught you, you weren't going to get soaking we feet.  I waited for the wave to begin receding and began walking across.  Suddenly I heard a ferocious "MOVE" and felt a fist in my back, which sent me crashing into the rock next to me, grazing my knuckles.  I looked around in panic and shock.  What's happening?  Has Poodle Momma spotted a shark that's coming in with the tide?  Is there a tsunami?  Has a killer sea monster began emerging from the sea?  All I knew is that in my winded state, I must quickly move away from the sea.  I run and gasping for breath I turn around and brace myself.  I am ready to punch the shark on it's nose.  I am ready to bop the sea monster with the dogs water bowl.  I am ready to say my prayers if it is a tsunami.  There is nothing.  Just Poodle Momma looking sheepish and mumbling an apology.  Turns out a wave was coming in and she didn't want to get wet.  I was in her way so what better way to move out of her way than to punch me and send me reeling into a rock.  Remind me not to be in her path when there is real danger.  

After all that excitement and getting the dogs to do some rock climbing, we sit on the sand for a while, staring out to sea.  Poodle Momma is relaxing herself by burying her hands in the sand.  She's in the middle of explaining to me how the sensation is soothing when suddenly, mid sentence she screams "AAARGH!  WHAT THE F***?  THAT'S MY HAND!"  You see, A had been hiding behind Poodle Momma and saw the sand moving next to her mum.  In a brave and noble attempt to protect her mum and kill whatever was moving under the sand, A had pounced on the offending creature.  This had led to her putting all her claws into Poodle Momma's hand.  Strangely, Poodle Momma seemed less relaxed after this. 

We took the dogs back to the car and decided to go and have a look at the art shop and get ourselves a cup of tea/coffee and cake.  Ahh, that was better.  We discussed art and Poodle Momma taught me stuff that I didn't know which was cool.  We ate cake.  We chilled.  We laughed.  We left in a happy, uplifted state.  We returned to the car and that's when the comedy sketch began.  We found that P had been sat in the front seats, covering them in sand.  That's fine, we knew that would happen and sand brushes out, no big deal.  

I opened my car door and Poodle Momma opened hers.  A gust of wind blew through the car, freeing my air freshener and causing it to make a break for freedom.  A, who was in the back of the car is now suddenly outside.  P is running around looking confused.  I open the back door to get A in but D jumps out.  There was just an explosion of dogs.  We get D back into the car but then P jumps into the back.  A is trying to get into the front and being told off by her momma.  P suddenly jumps through to the front and is getting ready to drive the car.  A is totally confused and ignoring all commands.  Poodle Momma climbs into the front seat and has a melt down whilst I helpfully, kneel by the door, laughing so hard that I can't breathe.  Imagine if you will, the two humans just stood there, looking totally bewildered, whilst three dogs run in and out of the car in total confusion and chaos.  

We eventually rounded them up, got them into the car and headed home.  Here we encountered lambs who do not know the highway code yet and sheep who own the road and will not move unless you give them the correct password (tip - honking your horn and yelling move is not the correct password).  Eventually we get home, we have a cuppa, the dogs collapse and we smile.  Everything is great.  Everything is peaceful, until they wake up...... 

 

Chaos in the summer sun

Hello everyone!  Yes, I'm finally back.  Did you miss me?  

It has been a busy year and I've completely lost track of all time and I have so many stories to share with you.  I have been doing training sessions to ready me for becoming a 'Minister's Wife'; going on summer camp with 40 teenagers; getting into soggy dilemma's on holiday; getting used to a girly car; discovering that much loved childhood songs can sound very dodgy when only sung in part and out of context and just generally causing chaos.  

With it fresh in my mind, I'll tell you about my summer.  Startlingly we start with a hot, sunny day.  Now for some of you this is an obvious thing in summer but where I live the sun is not guaranteed in summer (more likely flooding from the rain) and heat is most definitely not a given.  This day was rare.  It was hot; it was sunny; there was no breeze; it was amazing!  Now, as if I had known it was coming, a couple of weeks earlier I had been to visit my parents and I went shopping with my mum.  For a laugh I decided to try on some hideous clothes.  You know the kind I mean, the clothes that are hanging in the sale rack for an obvious reason.  No-one in their right mind would wear these clothes and the designers must have been under the influence of some narcotic to have created them.  I grabbed an arm load and dragged my poor mum off to the changing rooms.  Mum was having a whale of a time and got her camera out to take photos of me in the seriously bad clothing.  

There was the skirt that was made out of weird stretchy material, had an elasticated waistband and the design was that of comic strips.  I put it on and by the time I had finished doing my 'catwalk' (you know the walk ladies.  The one where you parade up and down the changing room doing a walk that you would never do in public along with the obligatory hair flick as you turn around and walk away from the mirror) the skirt had flared out in crazy places and tried to ball itself up into a sausage in other places (and no, before you say it, it wasn't because it was too small for me or that I was too fat for it).  On to the next garish top followed by a dress that looked like a unicorn had sneezed on it.  What fun my mum and I were having but then things went horribly wrong.  In amongst the horrid clothes was an awful blue dress which had large daisies all over it and the most hideous, big, square yellow bow sat in the centre of the chest area.  It was disgusting.  I grabbed it, ready to put it on and laugh at how awful I looked in it but something happened.  Something went horribly wrong.  It actually suited me!  The cut was perfect; the length was just right; the blue suited my skin tone and even the hideous yellow bow changed to being cute.  Oh good grief, how could this happen?  I meekly went out to my mum and even she stopped laughing and said "That suits you.  That really suits you.  The bow even makes you look like a minister's wife" and with that she started laughing again, much harder than was strictly necessary.  I stared horrified in the mirror.  It did suit me.  I looked cute!  I looked like a minister's wife in training.  It was bizarre.  Needless to say, after that dress I lost the will to try on anymore 'hideous' clothes in case they suited me and mum bought me the dress with a very malicious gleeful look on her face I must say.  

Back to the hot summer day and I put this dress on.  The Raving Rev grins and drags me outside for a photo.  He then puts the photo on FB to which many of my friends commented on it.  The worst part of that though was that my dad shared it with his friends with the comment underneath "My youngest daughter, actually in a dress" humph.  I wore a dress four years ago when I got married and I wore one at Christmas when I was doing my impression of a 1950's housewife.  I scared my neighbour when I went bounding into her house in my dress.  She tried desperately to stifle a laugh and said "My goodness Red, you've got legs".  OK, so the people here haven't actually ever seen me in a dress or skirt and I've been here for 3 years but that doesn't mean that I never wear dresses, just when people don't see me haha.  My friend laughed out loud when she saw me with the response of "very minister's wife and soooo cute I wanna cuddle you".  Needless to say, since that day the dress has been washed and hidden away.  

There's loads more for me to tell you but I shall save it for more stories to come.  What I shall leave you with is the story of the Raving Rev and I on the beach during our holiday.  

We went over to a neighbouring island with my mum and the two dogs.  We had decided to go over to one of the beaches where we could paddle in the beautifully crystal clear waters and the dogs could run around without causing mischief.  The trip over was eventful.  We were the first onto the wee ferry that takes you over, which means that the car was right up against the ramp.  The ferry sets off and we're all chatting and having a laugh.  However, as the ferry nears the port on the other side, it begins to lower the ramp.  Now the Raving Rev and I are used to this and we were expecting it but I forgot that mum had never been over and was not expecting it.  Suddenly, during mid conversation, mum starts flailing her arms around all over the car and making the most bizarre noises.  Think Frankie Howard with the "Oo-er".  I stare at my mum wondering if she is having some sort of fit and wondering why she's bracing herself against the dashboard.  The Raving Rev who is in the back of the car, has worked out what's happening and is laughing so hard that I'm wondering if he's going to need an inhaler.  I suddenly cotton on that mum is panicking about the ramp (the clue was when she screamed "Oh f*** we're sinking") and I also began to laugh.  The ferryman who was next to us was also laughing at mum and was overjoyed when the Raving Rev thanked him for giving us a good laugh.  

The ferry trip behind us we set off to the beach.  We park up and discover that there are loads of tourists there (how dare they!) but there is a deserted beach next to it, across a burn.  Mum looks at the whole situation and decides to stay in the car.  The Raving Rev and I grab the dogs and set off.  Now, the Raving Rev had decided that he was going swimming so he bought his swim shorts, towels, change of clothes etc.  He was a boy scout, he was prepared.  I on the other hand had decided to paddle but did not want to go out into the water so I bought nothing with me.  You can see where this going already can't you?  

The Raving Rev and I get to the burn and I'm looking at it suspiciously.  It's much deeper than I originally thought and even with my jeans rolled up, I'm going to get wet.  Even the dogs are not too keen on swimming over.  I stare at the Raving Rev as he takes his shoes off.  He flung them at me, turned his back to me and said "hop on".  Now already alarm bells are going off in my head.  We'll fall in, I know we will.  I state this and the Raving Rev stares at me.  "Don't be silly we'll be fine.  I can carry you over and back, come on.  Don't be a wuss."  So I climb on to the Raving Rev's back, praying that I'm not heavy enough to cause him some sort of awful injury and we set off.  He takes one step, then another, then a third, woohoo, we're getting across.  Then....he wobbles.  "It's getting really deep and the rocks are hurting my feet."  Gulp.  I am already laughing.  I know what is coming, it's as if I can see the future.  The Raving Rev takes another tentative step forward, smacks his toe into a hidden rock, howls with pain and then we are going down.  He leans backwards so that I will obviously break his fall and we land, waist deep in the water, me with my poor behind slammed into the rocks and his weight on top of me.  The dogs are going nuts trying to work out if they should come out to us or not.  I'm laughing hysterically (probably defence mechanism so that I don't drown him).  He is laughing and wriggling on top of me trying to get up and my mum, who is watching from the safety of the bank, collapses in a heap laughing at us.  I put my hands down into the water and push up to get myself out while he screams "not my shoes".  Oh yeah, I was holding his shoes so that they would stay dry, now they're wet, like mine.  

We continued across the burn, paddled with the dogs, returned back to the car and thankfully, the Raving Rev had a spare pair of shorts for me to change into and my mum had bought her awful 'granny' shoes that I squeezed into to drive home in.  This story, however, does not end there.  There is another hidden lesson in it.  Always use insect repellent when going out.  You see, the Raving Rev and my poor mum were bitten half to death from the bugs.  I received no bites (even the bugs know not to annoy me) but my poor mum had 64 bites, most of which blistered and some went infected.  So always wear your insect repellent and don't laugh at the youth worker's misfortune haha.  

Blessings