Train in vain...
It was all back to normal yesterday. I headed back to Binland where after six minutes at my desk I had forgotten all about my lovely time in Liverpool, and the husband donned his hi-viz and work trousers and drove down to my best friend Mrs S's house. The husband has been spending many of his daylight hours in her house over the last few months, and as her new kitchen is now nearing completion, his minutes there are numbered.
Now several weeks ago, Mrs S bought a gorgeous four legged fluff ball called Ralph. The husband has had to work around Ralph over the last couple of weeks, and as he's just a puppy, toilet training has been sporadic. The husband tells me that he will never be able to re-use the dust sheets he has used at Mrs S's house, and I think that Ralph may have something to do with it. Ralph has also learned to climb a ladder. Mrs S may not thank the husband for this when the window cleaner is there next.
Mrs S dropped me a frantic text yesterday afternoon, asking if she could pop round. Well of course she could, and within ten minutes of my reply to her plea, she was in my drive with Ralph. Now Ralph evokes very different responses from my two canine terrors.
Reg treats him like a new plaything, bowling him over and chasing him around the table. He should enjoy this while he can. One of Reg's best friends is a Rottweiler called Neville - we are walking later today, and it will only be Reg's warp factor 8 speed which will stop him from being given a gummy mauling from Neville. Percy, being slightly older and a little more sensible, simply barks at Ralph. I imagine that he's complaining about the introduction of yet another pesky kid. As if having Reg wasn't enough already...
Mrs S and I usually spend our time together with Ralph and Reg on our prospective laps taking swipes at each other, while Percy sits in the lounge, sulking with his 'special blanket'. Turns out that Mrs S and Ralph were both getting under the husband's feet, which is why she evicted herself. Two hours later, we had put the world to rights, and the dogs were all on pleasant terms with Percy now choosing to 'talk' to Mrs S's coat pocket which was full of puppy treats.
Returning home, Mrs S took Ralph outside for a wee. This was her third attempt to get him to go with no joy. For some strange reason, he will never 'go' at my house, however long Mrs S and I stand on the lawn in the freezing cold, blue hands wrapped around hot mugs of tea.
I have a theory about this. I think he saves it all up...
For the husband's dustsheet...
Now several weeks ago, Mrs S bought a gorgeous four legged fluff ball called Ralph. The husband has had to work around Ralph over the last couple of weeks, and as he's just a puppy, toilet training has been sporadic. The husband tells me that he will never be able to re-use the dust sheets he has used at Mrs S's house, and I think that Ralph may have something to do with it. Ralph has also learned to climb a ladder. Mrs S may not thank the husband for this when the window cleaner is there next.
Mrs S dropped me a frantic text yesterday afternoon, asking if she could pop round. Well of course she could, and within ten minutes of my reply to her plea, she was in my drive with Ralph. Now Ralph evokes very different responses from my two canine terrors.
Reg treats him like a new plaything, bowling him over and chasing him around the table. He should enjoy this while he can. One of Reg's best friends is a Rottweiler called Neville - we are walking later today, and it will only be Reg's warp factor 8 speed which will stop him from being given a gummy mauling from Neville. Percy, being slightly older and a little more sensible, simply barks at Ralph. I imagine that he's complaining about the introduction of yet another pesky kid. As if having Reg wasn't enough already...
Mrs S and I usually spend our time together with Ralph and Reg on our prospective laps taking swipes at each other, while Percy sits in the lounge, sulking with his 'special blanket'. Turns out that Mrs S and Ralph were both getting under the husband's feet, which is why she evicted herself. Two hours later, we had put the world to rights, and the dogs were all on pleasant terms with Percy now choosing to 'talk' to Mrs S's coat pocket which was full of puppy treats.
Returning home, Mrs S took Ralph outside for a wee. This was her third attempt to get him to go with no joy. For some strange reason, he will never 'go' at my house, however long Mrs S and I stand on the lawn in the freezing cold, blue hands wrapped around hot mugs of tea.
I have a theory about this. I think he saves it all up...
For the husband's dustsheet...
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