Posted by: purplediva | July 28, 2016

It’s a dog’s life…


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Alarm Clock

I’ve never really been one for having to buy all of the latest kitchen gadgets or new, hi tech white goods (I daresay a few family members may disagree on this point), however, since the arrival of Bertie, my ‘lap’ dog, just over a year ago, compost corner, as the cupboard under the stairs is affectionately known, is now overflowing with an array of new must have pet related contraptions.

Bertie, a Staffordshire bull terrier, and about as far removed from a small, cute, bundle of fluff dog as I could have envisaged won me over on a visit to a local dog rescue centre.  Oh I intended on looking…that’s how they get you.  They bring you the ones with the biggest brown eyes and the saddest stories and that’s it, you’re hooked. You find yourself saying “oh yes I MUST have him” because my life will never be complete unless I leave here with a 2 1/2 year old Staffie!  So, I ‘rescued’ Bertie.

Or did Bertie rescue me?

He seemed to double in size from the time I got from the office at the rescue centre to my home. Which now morphed into the size of a dolls house with an over excited bull rampaging through.  Over the first few days it became apparent there was going to be a need for a few house rules and Bert would have to learn them pretty quick. He was after all, larger and just a tad more boisterous than the tiny bundle of cotton wool I’d anticipated.

  • No getting onto furniture.
  • Not allowed upstairs
  • Not on/in MY bed
  • No begging for food at the table
  • No barking in the house
  • No rushing at visitors, jumping up etc

My intention was to reinforce these strongly. After all, there’s only me, so it should be a doddle…

To be fair, considering his background of being bought up living with a drug dealer, abused, malnourished and mistreated and then a spell in kennels, he settled in really well and was surprisingly well behaved and calm. The rules were going well. I should’ve realised that this was the calm before the storm, traumatised. Until around day 5. After confining him to the kitchen every night at bedtime, in his own bed, all was fine until 3am, when he discovered he could awaken me with the slightest whimper. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. And a sucker. If I didn’t come down to him he protested with actions.  Let me tell you, there really isn’t anything quite like the feint waft of ‘is that or isn’t that?’ dog poo wafting up the stairs and up your nasal passages to make you jump out of bed…

Compost corner and a can of WD40 (for the cupboard hinges) was just about to come into its own.  The nearly new mop and bucket that’d only been used twice since I moved here 3 years ago, was almost a new permanent feature in the corner of the kitchen. Somedays I felt like Snow White, with the mop perpetually in motion but alas automatic is yet to feature on the Vileda super mop. Room for improvement Vileda…much improvement.  More’s the pity!

Fast forward one year a couple of months.  Bert and I have a mutual understanding.  You know those ‘rules’, yes, what rules?!

As for those gadgets. I’m now the owner of a vast array of cleaning implements for both house and dog; a steam mop, a wet/dry carpet cleaner (ESSENTIAL), a new vacuum cleaner (dog specific of course), Patio jet wash, Dog shampoo, Dog brushes, an array of leads, collars, harness’, Car harness (useless) Carpet shampoo…The list, and cost is endless.

He trained ME really well…Oh how naive I was!

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I defy anyone to resist the eyes…

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Despite the few teething glitches, the permanent sickness he suffers, his insufferable barking at the wind, his shadow and anyone who dares to walk past my house or even utter a word to me, I wouldn’t trade him for the world and would implore anyone to give a rescue dog, and especially a Staffie, a second chance.

In rescuing a dog you might just rescue a little bit of you too…I did.

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Except for the time he ate the seatbelt in my car… in desperation to sit on MY seat. But I was going to be driving and that was non negotiable!

(I still can’t have passengers in my car as I can’t afford to replace it)

 

 


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