Bonjourno!
Ohh how I wish I was going anywhere where the language is anything but English. I. Need. A. Holiday!!! But following the debacle from last week and the costly bill that Clifford, my Fiat 500L, gave me I am certainly not going anywhere sunny or exotic, I think even Newquay would be a stretch. Nevertheless, I have thrown myself into full-blown Christmas Smish-mas mode and that includes visiting the big man.
Back in September, I was scrolling through my daily emails when I came across one from a local garden centre, quite well known in the area. Not really reading it properly I thought it was regarding my wedding flowers and some ideas or thoughts regarding styling since I had asked them for a quotation. However, this was not the case and on opening it up I discovered the wonders of what the garden centre could offer at this time of year.
Reading through the email, it explained how Frosts Garden Centre were opening their grotto exclusively for dog lovers! "You and your four-legged friend can enjoy the ultimate Santa experience" I continued reading, enthralled by it all. With a choice of six sessions available the visit was to be jam-packed with photo opportunities and includes mixing your own doggie treats and of course meeting Santa! As if that wasn't enough, each owner also receives a mince pie as well as a special treat for our canine friends too!
Wasting no time like an excited parent I booked the visit and text Mr Warehouse to let him know the good news. Anticipation built and as the day got closer I talked openly with my work colleagues what I would be doing on my morning away from the office. They were surprised and whilst most giggled and laughed, a lot of them would (and have) asked where they can get tickets.
Arriving on the day, all of us in dressed in Christmas jumpers, we finally found the Grotto after much hunting around the flowers and granny scarves on sale. It honestly looked like a shed, but with our elf waiting outside for us, we skipped up to the front gates and were taken inside the magical winter wonderland created.
Frankenstein was less than impressed by the penguin animatronics, standing to attention and refusing to let the penguins get me, guarding his Dog Mom from the strangely suited birds. I think I even heard a growl and a yap from his nervous stance. The older one, however, was quietly amused by it all, wagging all the way and probably wondering why we have to come to such a place. But our Pooch loved Christmas and always gets a bit nervy and upset when the decorations come down in January.
Snapping away some blurred pictures of our nine-month-old pup we skipped through the frozen landscape and into the Elves workshop. Here we got to pick and choose a doggy bag quite literally, selecting some treats and biscuits for our little fur babies. Safely squirrelled away we were guided by our Elf through to Santa's sitting room, a full log burning fire awaiting us to warm our toes and even a mince pie for Dog Mom over here (Diet going right out the window)! Standing by the huge Christmas Tree, perfectly lit in lights and beautiful decorations we had some family pictures, smiling for the camera.
Just as we were about to finish the big man himself arrived. Welcoming himself to us and our pups, he was short for a Santa, however, the awe we were in was palpable. Never had I ever thought I would be this excited to see Father Christmas, and yet here I was, my baby pup and big pup, both ready to have their picture taken for our family Christmas Cards. Posing was difficult enough though and trying to get us all to smile at the camera and not wink or blink or sneeze or turn away was a chore in itself, and that was us human's. Holding Frankenstein in my arms I was certain that was a memory to cherish forever and ever, and, after receiving a gift from Mr Claus himself, Mr Warehouse and I continued our walk through the Reindeer forest and into the gift shop to look at our photos. Choosing one, we purchased a copy and looked forward to sending out the memories with family.
Would we do it again? Probably not, unless we knew it was maybe oldies last Christmas, but even then I think I would want to try somewhere else. At £9.99 for one owner and dog (plus £1.99 per additional owner and £6.99 per additional dog), it wasn't cheap, combining with the £7.50 per photo not to mention multiple other gift options available and it could turn into an expensive morning out. However, I cannot fault the staff and how special they made it for our first Christmas as a paw-some foursome, although I would say that Frosts Garden Centre could make it a little easier to find Santa's Grotto as it was rather difficult to locate (as could be expected) and therefore we were running slightly late to our appointment and therefore whilst not rushed along, felt as though we needed to speed up our experience. All in all, though I certainly cannot wait until next year and our next photo opportunity.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Jackapoo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jackapoo. Show all posts
Monday, 9 December 2019
Monday, 25 November 2019
Let Sleeping Dogs Lye
Hello,
So I now have a nine-month-old ... Puppy that is. It has only been in the last few weeks that I have really appreciated the fact that whilst our (OK my) little Frankenstein is pretty much a teenager, he is still a baby really.
Puppy ownership has really been a handful from the early days of limited sleep and constant cuddles to monthly flea, worm and tick treatment at the Vets and even a big decision as to snip or not to snip which I wrote about in the blog post where I told of "The Day Frankenstein Got His Stitches" it certainly has been an adventure. Ever since I knew I was going to have a little boy, I knew that I would have to face this question and I think in hindsight it was the best for him as has both calmed him down (at least a tiny bit) and taken a fair amount of testosterone out of his system which could have made him aggressive and not pleasant to be around.
One of the things I think both Mr Warehouse and I struggled with though was the early mornings. Frankenstein simply couldn't sleep in and refused to let us do the same. we could have been up until 4-in-the-morning and still, the pup would have woken at 6am. Frustratingly, even as he got older he never grew out of it. One minute I was dreamily gazing out of the window at the setting sun awaiting my new fluffy arrival and the next I was sat listening to him cry and winge as we try and attempt one of the hardest things about puppy ownership - Training. In his first few weeks (which then stretched into months) our little Frankenstein (made by mistake and pieced together from two different breeds of dog - Jack Russell Terrier and Toy Poodle) has been somewhat of a little horror. I was not sure in the beginning of it was just a new environment or that he missed his mom and siblings or if it was separation anxiety but I knew that whilst his time alone is arduous, I look at other owners we know and what some of their animals get up to and I am glad we don't have it that bad!
A quick Google of Dog Separation Anxiety come up with hundreds of helpful pages with useful tips, tricks and hints on how to have a happier pup! One website, in particular, I have referenced for a bit of help has been PetMD which was helpful however didn't allow us any more sleep or lay-ins than before. With time ticking on we attempted the whole night time routine over and over and over again but nothing seemed to work. That was until Halloween!
With Miss JoHo and Miss Tweedle-Dee staying in the spare room and me tucked up in bed with "The Bowl" by my bedside, Mr Warehouse had little choice but to have the dogs sleep in with us for the night, somewhere he could keep an eye on me and them. It also meant our friends wouldn't be disturbed by puppies early morning war cries. However, the following day, after the decorations had gone away and our heads had been nursed, I noted to Mr Warehouse that our puppy seemed less needy and "into us" than before. Mr Warehouse had suggested that because he had slept in with us the night before, maybe he didn't feel like he needed our attention all-day long. It was a fair point and pup even seemed to listen more, being more receptive to commands and training. So when it became time for bed that night I suggested just letting him choose where to sleep, leaving the door open to his crate downstairs and leaving the hallway and landing free to roam, we let him sleep where ever he liked. And it seemed to work.
Looking online, you can find loads of information that is both negative and positive when talking about co-sleeping with your dog but from what I have read and also talked to fellow dog-moms and dog-dads is that this can also ease anxiety, providing a feeling of safety and security, especially for smaller dogs or lap breeds. One blog I came across describes that when it comes to sleeping with your dog, there are many benefits to sharing your sleeping space and that by allowing them to sleep on your bed has a different meaning for you and your fur-baby. For you, it can be a way to snuggle. For your dog, it’s an important bonding experience, something which I never really thought about before.
Not for me (as I have my stunning Fiance by my bedside) however for some people having their pup sleep alongside them helps not only with the dog feeling secure, but also the person themselves, especially if they live alone or have nightmares. If there are any noises or disturbances, your pup can always alert you first and maybe even protect you should the moment come to it. Plus, having a furry friend to share the sheets with can always be comforting when the nights get cooler.
One of the other things that Furbo.com's "12 Benefits of sleeping with your dog" is that when your dog sleeps in your bed, separation anxiety they feel during the day is soothed. If you work long hours, being able to share time at night can help you support your dog and make them feel less distressed. This is again something which up until writing this now I hadn't correlated the two - him having my attention and closeness at night and not needing it throughout the day and barking excessively. I suppose if you were such a way as well that having your dog alongside you at night could be very calming and have a positive effect on your well-being, mental health and even reduce your own anxiety. Another reason in the pro-sleepover camp is that if you suffer from insomnia it can help, although if it is my dogs, older one included, then maybe not as they just see you laying there asleep as a human trampoline.
This being said the website doesn't come with its own caveat and warns that while there are many benefits to sleeping in the same bed as your dog, there are also some disadvantages. If your dog isn't fully trained, you don't want a situation where accidents happen. In addition, if you have allergies or a new dog, you may want to proceed with caution. Another website I stumbled across was Tuck.com, who went through some of the risks carried when sleeping with a small and furry bed-fellow. They explain that "Even if you’re not allergic to your pet, they spend more time outside interacting with things us humans take care to avoid, which could otherwise interfere with your health."
Let's face it, pets aren’t exactly clean, but if you keep your pet up to date on vaccinations and flea medication and they’re otherwise healthy, you should be fine to sleep with them. However, the website does warn you that sharing a bed with your pet can be as dangerous as face licking or kissing for transmission of zoonotic diseases, including plague, meningitis, and parasites. Now, of course, this is very rare, but if you’ve been bitten by fleas or have broken skin, and your dogs are infested, your risk is higher.
Obviously, it goes without saying that spending time together in a quiet setting like the bedroom, away from hustle and bustle and distractions it helps you get closer to one another. Dogs are pack animals and will often sleep together in a puppy pile when they can, so why not try it with your pooch. Of course each to their own, however, if you could put up with a few moments of restlessness or the odd night of broken sleep and you can maintain the intimacy and connection as a couple (if you are one - sorry Singletons) then go for it.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So I now have a nine-month-old ... Puppy that is. It has only been in the last few weeks that I have really appreciated the fact that whilst our (OK my) little Frankenstein is pretty much a teenager, he is still a baby really.
Puppy ownership has really been a handful from the early days of limited sleep and constant cuddles to monthly flea, worm and tick treatment at the Vets and even a big decision as to snip or not to snip which I wrote about in the blog post where I told of "The Day Frankenstein Got His Stitches" it certainly has been an adventure. Ever since I knew I was going to have a little boy, I knew that I would have to face this question and I think in hindsight it was the best for him as has both calmed him down (at least a tiny bit) and taken a fair amount of testosterone out of his system which could have made him aggressive and not pleasant to be around.
One of the things I think both Mr Warehouse and I struggled with though was the early mornings. Frankenstein simply couldn't sleep in and refused to let us do the same. we could have been up until 4-in-the-morning and still, the pup would have woken at 6am. Frustratingly, even as he got older he never grew out of it. One minute I was dreamily gazing out of the window at the setting sun awaiting my new fluffy arrival and the next I was sat listening to him cry and winge as we try and attempt one of the hardest things about puppy ownership - Training. In his first few weeks (which then stretched into months) our little Frankenstein (made by mistake and pieced together from two different breeds of dog - Jack Russell Terrier and Toy Poodle) has been somewhat of a little horror. I was not sure in the beginning of it was just a new environment or that he missed his mom and siblings or if it was separation anxiety but I knew that whilst his time alone is arduous, I look at other owners we know and what some of their animals get up to and I am glad we don't have it that bad!
A quick Google of Dog Separation Anxiety come up with hundreds of helpful pages with useful tips, tricks and hints on how to have a happier pup! One website, in particular, I have referenced for a bit of help has been PetMD which was helpful however didn't allow us any more sleep or lay-ins than before. With time ticking on we attempted the whole night time routine over and over and over again but nothing seemed to work. That was until Halloween!
With Miss JoHo and Miss Tweedle-Dee staying in the spare room and me tucked up in bed with "The Bowl" by my bedside, Mr Warehouse had little choice but to have the dogs sleep in with us for the night, somewhere he could keep an eye on me and them. It also meant our friends wouldn't be disturbed by puppies early morning war cries. However, the following day, after the decorations had gone away and our heads had been nursed, I noted to Mr Warehouse that our puppy seemed less needy and "into us" than before. Mr Warehouse had suggested that because he had slept in with us the night before, maybe he didn't feel like he needed our attention all-day long. It was a fair point and pup even seemed to listen more, being more receptive to commands and training. So when it became time for bed that night I suggested just letting him choose where to sleep, leaving the door open to his crate downstairs and leaving the hallway and landing free to roam, we let him sleep where ever he liked. And it seemed to work.
Looking online, you can find loads of information that is both negative and positive when talking about co-sleeping with your dog but from what I have read and also talked to fellow dog-moms and dog-dads is that this can also ease anxiety, providing a feeling of safety and security, especially for smaller dogs or lap breeds. One blog I came across describes that when it comes to sleeping with your dog, there are many benefits to sharing your sleeping space and that by allowing them to sleep on your bed has a different meaning for you and your fur-baby. For you, it can be a way to snuggle. For your dog, it’s an important bonding experience, something which I never really thought about before.
Not for me (as I have my stunning Fiance by my bedside) however for some people having their pup sleep alongside them helps not only with the dog feeling secure, but also the person themselves, especially if they live alone or have nightmares. If there are any noises or disturbances, your pup can always alert you first and maybe even protect you should the moment come to it. Plus, having a furry friend to share the sheets with can always be comforting when the nights get cooler.
One of the other things that Furbo.com's "12 Benefits of sleeping with your dog" is that when your dog sleeps in your bed, separation anxiety they feel during the day is soothed. If you work long hours, being able to share time at night can help you support your dog and make them feel less distressed. This is again something which up until writing this now I hadn't correlated the two - him having my attention and closeness at night and not needing it throughout the day and barking excessively. I suppose if you were such a way as well that having your dog alongside you at night could be very calming and have a positive effect on your well-being, mental health and even reduce your own anxiety. Another reason in the pro-sleepover camp is that if you suffer from insomnia it can help, although if it is my dogs, older one included, then maybe not as they just see you laying there asleep as a human trampoline.
This being said the website doesn't come with its own caveat and warns that while there are many benefits to sleeping in the same bed as your dog, there are also some disadvantages. If your dog isn't fully trained, you don't want a situation where accidents happen. In addition, if you have allergies or a new dog, you may want to proceed with caution. Another website I stumbled across was Tuck.com, who went through some of the risks carried when sleeping with a small and furry bed-fellow. They explain that "Even if you’re not allergic to your pet, they spend more time outside interacting with things us humans take care to avoid, which could otherwise interfere with your health."
Let's face it, pets aren’t exactly clean, but if you keep your pet up to date on vaccinations and flea medication and they’re otherwise healthy, you should be fine to sleep with them. However, the website does warn you that sharing a bed with your pet can be as dangerous as face licking or kissing for transmission of zoonotic diseases, including plague, meningitis, and parasites. Now, of course, this is very rare, but if you’ve been bitten by fleas or have broken skin, and your dogs are infested, your risk is higher.
Obviously, it goes without saying that spending time together in a quiet setting like the bedroom, away from hustle and bustle and distractions it helps you get closer to one another. Dogs are pack animals and will often sleep together in a puppy pile when they can, so why not try it with your pooch. Of course each to their own, however, if you could put up with a few moments of restlessness or the odd night of broken sleep and you can maintain the intimacy and connection as a couple (if you are one - sorry Singletons) then go for it.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 19 August 2019
The Day Frankenstein Got His Stitches
Howdy Friends,
And so the day had come. After a good few weeks of speculation and pondering over whether or not to get my baby castrated I had finally made the decisions and the day was here. As I bundled my little bundle of joy into the front passengers seat and sat my packed lunch on the floor next to him I looked into his deep black eyes as he wondered where the fuck I was taking him so early in the day.
As we pulled off the drive way I couldn't help but think that our older pooch would be glad of the peace and quiet, a restful day for her no doubt. A thought crossed my mind as I drove out of the village that maybe my little fur-baby thought I was bringing him to work with me, another Momma and Pupper day out. No this was not the case I am afraid little one. We are off to the Vets to get you snipped.
As I had queried before, ever since I knew I wanted a puppy I have always wanted a boy. I suppose as that is what most people revert back to with the whole "whose a good boy" thing, even with our female pooch. I had considered studding him out like some sort of doggo pimpess however on closer consideration I decided to protect his innocence and get him castrated. The surgical way of neutering a male meant that ultimately I would be preventing him from reproducing and since I had no real breeding or stud plan and would only really doing it ad-hoc and when we needed money on a cash-cow basis I thought it unfair to give him a taste and then to take it away from him, leaving him hungry for more with no real idea whether it ill be next month, next year or ever.
Arriving at the Veterinary Practice in good time we needed a nit of a clean up operation in the car as there was a little pukey accident. Nevertheless we carried on and I attended his Pre-Op check over to confirm his vitals and that he was healthy to undergo the procedure.
"Now dont expect any phone call before about 2pm, he probably will be sleepy until about then anyway from the anaesthesia" the Nurse said as I left my baby in her arms.
Heading out the door of the clinic I rushed to work and made it there just in time.
Worrying all morning I thought of the horror stories I had heard about it all going wrong and how my Aunties dog had nearly died as the Vet's didn't know he was allergic to anaesthetic. Just as I had thought what would happen if I lost my little Franker-doodles the phone rang. It was the Vets. It was also 11am - Much before the 2pm expected time of the call! Answering I must have sounded panicked as the lovely receptionist put my mind at easy and said he was out from theatre and that the surgery had been a success. After explaining how the rest of the day would go she hung up and I looked forward to being able to see my little floof later on, all in the knowledge that he was in the absolute best capable hands and being very well looked after with plenty of fuss and cuddles.
Getting back to work it was less than twenty-minutes before I received another call. Again, I answered worried for what had happened in the mean time.
"So everything is fine but .. " the receptionist began as she continued to tell me how much my pup hated being in the kennels. I explained (as if they didn't already know) that he has just woken up from major surgery where he is in a tiny cold cage and doesn't know anyone's faces that are coming to him. Of course he is going t be freaked out. The receptionist pushed further and asked if I could come and collect him as he just wasn't settling. After explaining that I worked over forty-minutes away in Bedford and that I couldn't collect him she pushed further and asked if there was any way I could collect him on my lunch break. Feeling like a cold-ass bitch I stated that I only have a half-hour lunch break and I could not make it to the practice and back in that time, nor that it would be practical as I would then have to drop him back home to be alone and by himself which simply wasn't fair. I explained that whilst I appreciated he was a bit noisy and needy and unsettled that I would try and leave work earlier but that it wasn't set in stone.
Finishing at my normal time I hurried over to the Veterinary practice to pick up my little lump with no bumps. No sooner had I walked through the door and I heard him, crying in a back room somewhere. I wanted to just rush straight through, but I knew I couldn't. But if I thought that was annoying and grating I hadn't had the full force of the Franken-toad yet. Checking myself in I heard him silence as he listened for my voice. As soon as he had confirmed it was me there was no stopping the little fella. Howling and crying and barking and screaming and woofing and all the carrying on as if he was being murdered.
"He is sooo cute ... " the nurses and the receptionist began.
"But he has been doing this all day" they said with a slight grimace across their smiles. Embarrassed I hung my head and hoped no one else with all their well behaved pets would ask any questions. They did. And I had no choice but to own up. Yes that noisy little monster was mine. My Frankenstein. Bringing him out I think the staff were glad to see the back of me, and walking out I booked in our follow up Post-Op visit for a few days time.
That evening we had a very sleepy puppy, and when he wasn't sleeping he was either staring off into space as he was so fucking high or bumbling around in a drunken like stooper. A bit of tea and an early night for him Mr Warehouse and I put our little Frankle-puff to bed and headed off ourselves. Since then he has been right as rain. Still fucking manic and non-stop, but I suppose that is what you get with a toy poodle cross jack russell.
Even for Warehouse's surprise birthday party on Saturday I thought that he would have calmed down a bit but nope. Just chased his sister (Momma Warehouse bought his sister, a smooth coated version of him, almost Dachshund in appearance so they can still be in touch) round the garden and playing with the kids. I was able to steal away a moment for myself (after ushering Mr Warehouse out to the pub to watch footie and rushing around like a blue arse fly all morning trying to get everything ready) I stood by the back door, watching the pups play, in fact watching all our family and friends drink and chat, laughing away with each other. It was then that I realised that I was probably at the peak of happiness, at least since last year anyway. Oh what a difference a year makes - Engaged, Homeowner and has her own puppy. I mean all bar earning over £23k a year I have ticked off all my New Years Resolutions, well, that and slimming down to a size 14 as usual.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
And so the day had come. After a good few weeks of speculation and pondering over whether or not to get my baby castrated I had finally made the decisions and the day was here. As I bundled my little bundle of joy into the front passengers seat and sat my packed lunch on the floor next to him I looked into his deep black eyes as he wondered where the fuck I was taking him so early in the day.
As we pulled off the drive way I couldn't help but think that our older pooch would be glad of the peace and quiet, a restful day for her no doubt. A thought crossed my mind as I drove out of the village that maybe my little fur-baby thought I was bringing him to work with me, another Momma and Pupper day out. No this was not the case I am afraid little one. We are off to the Vets to get you snipped.
As I had queried before, ever since I knew I wanted a puppy I have always wanted a boy. I suppose as that is what most people revert back to with the whole "whose a good boy" thing, even with our female pooch. I had considered studding him out like some sort of doggo pimpess however on closer consideration I decided to protect his innocence and get him castrated. The surgical way of neutering a male meant that ultimately I would be preventing him from reproducing and since I had no real breeding or stud plan and would only really doing it ad-hoc and when we needed money on a cash-cow basis I thought it unfair to give him a taste and then to take it away from him, leaving him hungry for more with no real idea whether it ill be next month, next year or ever.
Arriving at the Veterinary Practice in good time we needed a nit of a clean up operation in the car as there was a little pukey accident. Nevertheless we carried on and I attended his Pre-Op check over to confirm his vitals and that he was healthy to undergo the procedure.
"Now dont expect any phone call before about 2pm, he probably will be sleepy until about then anyway from the anaesthesia" the Nurse said as I left my baby in her arms.
Heading out the door of the clinic I rushed to work and made it there just in time.
Worrying all morning I thought of the horror stories I had heard about it all going wrong and how my Aunties dog had nearly died as the Vet's didn't know he was allergic to anaesthetic. Just as I had thought what would happen if I lost my little Franker-doodles the phone rang. It was the Vets. It was also 11am - Much before the 2pm expected time of the call! Answering I must have sounded panicked as the lovely receptionist put my mind at easy and said he was out from theatre and that the surgery had been a success. After explaining how the rest of the day would go she hung up and I looked forward to being able to see my little floof later on, all in the knowledge that he was in the absolute best capable hands and being very well looked after with plenty of fuss and cuddles.
Getting back to work it was less than twenty-minutes before I received another call. Again, I answered worried for what had happened in the mean time.
"So everything is fine but .. " the receptionist began as she continued to tell me how much my pup hated being in the kennels. I explained (as if they didn't already know) that he has just woken up from major surgery where he is in a tiny cold cage and doesn't know anyone's faces that are coming to him. Of course he is going t be freaked out. The receptionist pushed further and asked if I could come and collect him as he just wasn't settling. After explaining that I worked over forty-minutes away in Bedford and that I couldn't collect him she pushed further and asked if there was any way I could collect him on my lunch break. Feeling like a cold-ass bitch I stated that I only have a half-hour lunch break and I could not make it to the practice and back in that time, nor that it would be practical as I would then have to drop him back home to be alone and by himself which simply wasn't fair. I explained that whilst I appreciated he was a bit noisy and needy and unsettled that I would try and leave work earlier but that it wasn't set in stone.
Finishing at my normal time I hurried over to the Veterinary practice to pick up my little lump with no bumps. No sooner had I walked through the door and I heard him, crying in a back room somewhere. I wanted to just rush straight through, but I knew I couldn't. But if I thought that was annoying and grating I hadn't had the full force of the Franken-toad yet. Checking myself in I heard him silence as he listened for my voice. As soon as he had confirmed it was me there was no stopping the little fella. Howling and crying and barking and screaming and woofing and all the carrying on as if he was being murdered.
"He is sooo cute ... " the nurses and the receptionist began.
"But he has been doing this all day" they said with a slight grimace across their smiles. Embarrassed I hung my head and hoped no one else with all their well behaved pets would ask any questions. They did. And I had no choice but to own up. Yes that noisy little monster was mine. My Frankenstein. Bringing him out I think the staff were glad to see the back of me, and walking out I booked in our follow up Post-Op visit for a few days time.
That evening we had a very sleepy puppy, and when he wasn't sleeping he was either staring off into space as he was so fucking high or bumbling around in a drunken like stooper. A bit of tea and an early night for him Mr Warehouse and I put our little Frankle-puff to bed and headed off ourselves. Since then he has been right as rain. Still fucking manic and non-stop, but I suppose that is what you get with a toy poodle cross jack russell.
Even for Warehouse's surprise birthday party on Saturday I thought that he would have calmed down a bit but nope. Just chased his sister (Momma Warehouse bought his sister, a smooth coated version of him, almost Dachshund in appearance so they can still be in touch) round the garden and playing with the kids. I was able to steal away a moment for myself (after ushering Mr Warehouse out to the pub to watch footie and rushing around like a blue arse fly all morning trying to get everything ready) I stood by the back door, watching the pups play, in fact watching all our family and friends drink and chat, laughing away with each other. It was then that I realised that I was probably at the peak of happiness, at least since last year anyway. Oh what a difference a year makes - Engaged, Homeowner and has her own puppy. I mean all bar earning over £23k a year I have ticked off all my New Years Resolutions, well, that and slimming down to a size 14 as usual.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 12 August 2019
A Wedding Like No Other!
Hello,
With less than a few days until his operation I thought I would again try and teach my puppy some valuable life skills, like how to conduct ones self when in a peculiar environment whilst containing bowel movements, sitting in the front seat of a moving vehicle whilst not being sick or having a pampering sleepover round your Mom's friend's house as they all sit around chatting shit and smoking like it's1984 their in a seedy nightclub.
I wouldn't say it was the best experience he has had, however, that being said it certainly went a lot better than anticipated. I started our trip as I normally do stopping off at Nanny Pumpkin's for a coffee and a biscuit. We chatted about mine and Mr Warehouses new edition since she had not yet met our little bundle of fur, cooeing over him like a new baby and admiring him from a distance. Truth be told I don't think that my Nanny Pumpkin is much of a pet person especially that of dogs. I assume, partly from what she has told me and partly from my own judgement that as a military family they were surrounded by families who would get a dog or a cat and then have to give it up several weeks later when they moved army barracks only to be disappointed when Mittens or Rover could not come with them. I do recall somewhere that my father and his brothers had won a goldfish at a local fair and that my Nanny Pumpkin had agreed to let them keep it. If I remember correctly that the goldfish met its end in the same way many do with one flush and a toilet burial.
I briefly saw my aunty, uncle and cousins as they had also popped by to see me and the new puppy, after which I tried to dash over to my other Nana's to see my uncle and her before my uncle went to go and play golf. I knew before even stepping foot inside the jazzy carpeted house that she had lived in for the last decade or so that my Scottish Nana would be much more reciprocal to my baby-pooch. I knew for a fact that my Nana had grown up in the harsh reality of postwar Scotland with Jack Russells and other dogs, always a good companion for running across summer fields and icy winter walks. Picking him up she cuddled him like a toddler and even let him lick her face which I know a lot of people detest.
I thought to myself as I listened to several of the same stories as I had before over and over again that ultimately these will be the moment I will cherish once she is gone. In her mid-80's now her soft white curls seemed to wiggle whenever she would laugh about some of the good times that she used to have back in her younger years. We spoke alot about my upcoming wedding next year and discussed a lot about her wedding and how different it was back then.
I never knew that my mother's parents met when my Granda had come to stay at my Nana's house with her family as he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England. After several weeks, work took my Granda elsewhere in the country but before he had left making sure that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks later my great-great-grandmother (my Nana's Nana) fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, following the funeral, my Nana sent a letter to my Granda informing him of the death in the family. Soon enough they were writing every week to one another and slowly but surely over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger.
Just over a year after meeting, work brought my Granda back into the area again and they met again. This time my Granda asked my Nana to marry him. Wonderful news and exciting updates for the families, except for there was one big problem. He was Protestant and she was Catholic. From my very basic understanding and knowledge of either side, They worship the same God, but the principles of their faith are different? In any circumstance, my Nana's parents were not having any of it and refused the relationship, even so much so that after fainting and falling over, my great-grandmother forced my Nana (woozy on pain medication) to write a letter to her fiance telling him that she no longer wanted to marry him.
Had my Nana's sister not said anything then I may well not be here sharing the story with you. Several months later after multiple letters whilst my Granda was away working my Nana went to go and meet him. Stepping off the bud from a nearly thirty-mile round trip, it was like they had never been a part and without a moment to spare my Granda took my Nana by the hand and they went to buy a ring. Now telling her parents wasn't easy and after moving away to be closer to him she had upset her parents greatly. So much so that by the time the wedding rolled around a few weeks later, none of her family turned up, not even her father to walk her down the aisle. My Nana didn't wear a white dress and instead opted for a traditional shift suit with a boxy coat all in traditional tartan tweed. Every person in the Church in Oxford was from my Granda's side of the family and a few friends. And all because he was Protestant and she was Catholic.
Her black and white wedding photos were certainly something to look back on and cherish as she recalled and remembered how the day went. And as my little fur baby fell asleep hold-up on the jazzy carpet I thought about how this could be me in a few decades time, remembering all the fun and joyous moments I had with friends and family at my own wedding. I think that it is certainly moments like this that I cherish just talking and in a way getting to know my Nana before she was a Nana. Finding out all those little things that makes her who she is and in a way trickles down the tree, making me who I am and who my children will be.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
With less than a few days until his operation I thought I would again try and teach my puppy some valuable life skills, like how to conduct ones self when in a peculiar environment whilst containing bowel movements, sitting in the front seat of a moving vehicle whilst not being sick or having a pampering sleepover round your Mom's friend's house as they all sit around chatting shit and smoking like it's1984 their in a seedy nightclub.
I wouldn't say it was the best experience he has had, however, that being said it certainly went a lot better than anticipated. I started our trip as I normally do stopping off at Nanny Pumpkin's for a coffee and a biscuit. We chatted about mine and Mr Warehouses new edition since she had not yet met our little bundle of fur, cooeing over him like a new baby and admiring him from a distance. Truth be told I don't think that my Nanny Pumpkin is much of a pet person especially that of dogs. I assume, partly from what she has told me and partly from my own judgement that as a military family they were surrounded by families who would get a dog or a cat and then have to give it up several weeks later when they moved army barracks only to be disappointed when Mittens or Rover could not come with them. I do recall somewhere that my father and his brothers had won a goldfish at a local fair and that my Nanny Pumpkin had agreed to let them keep it. If I remember correctly that the goldfish met its end in the same way many do with one flush and a toilet burial.
I briefly saw my aunty, uncle and cousins as they had also popped by to see me and the new puppy, after which I tried to dash over to my other Nana's to see my uncle and her before my uncle went to go and play golf. I knew before even stepping foot inside the jazzy carpeted house that she had lived in for the last decade or so that my Scottish Nana would be much more reciprocal to my baby-pooch. I knew for a fact that my Nana had grown up in the harsh reality of postwar Scotland with Jack Russells and other dogs, always a good companion for running across summer fields and icy winter walks. Picking him up she cuddled him like a toddler and even let him lick her face which I know a lot of people detest.
I thought to myself as I listened to several of the same stories as I had before over and over again that ultimately these will be the moment I will cherish once she is gone. In her mid-80's now her soft white curls seemed to wiggle whenever she would laugh about some of the good times that she used to have back in her younger years. We spoke alot about my upcoming wedding next year and discussed a lot about her wedding and how different it was back then.
I never knew that my mother's parents met when my Granda had come to stay at my Nana's house with her family as he was working locally in a small Scottish village near the border of England. After several weeks, work took my Granda elsewhere in the country but before he had left making sure that my Nana kept in touch. Several weeks later my great-great-grandmother (my Nana's Nana) fell ill and in her final few moments shared some wisdom that it would not be the last time that my Nana and my Granda met. Sure enough, following the funeral, my Nana sent a letter to my Granda informing him of the death in the family. Soon enough they were writing every week to one another and slowly but surely over the week's their friendship turned to love and grew stronger.
Just over a year after meeting, work brought my Granda back into the area again and they met again. This time my Granda asked my Nana to marry him. Wonderful news and exciting updates for the families, except for there was one big problem. He was Protestant and she was Catholic. From my very basic understanding and knowledge of either side, They worship the same God, but the principles of their faith are different? In any circumstance, my Nana's parents were not having any of it and refused the relationship, even so much so that after fainting and falling over, my great-grandmother forced my Nana (woozy on pain medication) to write a letter to her fiance telling him that she no longer wanted to marry him.
Had my Nana's sister not said anything then I may well not be here sharing the story with you. Several months later after multiple letters whilst my Granda was away working my Nana went to go and meet him. Stepping off the bud from a nearly thirty-mile round trip, it was like they had never been a part and without a moment to spare my Granda took my Nana by the hand and they went to buy a ring. Now telling her parents wasn't easy and after moving away to be closer to him she had upset her parents greatly. So much so that by the time the wedding rolled around a few weeks later, none of her family turned up, not even her father to walk her down the aisle. My Nana didn't wear a white dress and instead opted for a traditional shift suit with a boxy coat all in traditional tartan tweed. Every person in the Church in Oxford was from my Granda's side of the family and a few friends. And all because he was Protestant and she was Catholic.
Her black and white wedding photos were certainly something to look back on and cherish as she recalled and remembered how the day went. And as my little fur baby fell asleep hold-up on the jazzy carpet I thought about how this could be me in a few decades time, remembering all the fun and joyous moments I had with friends and family at my own wedding. I think that it is certainly moments like this that I cherish just talking and in a way getting to know my Nana before she was a Nana. Finding out all those little things that makes her who she is and in a way trickles down the tree, making me who I am and who my children will be.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 5 August 2019
Toddler to Teen and Everything Inbetween
Hey,
Another Friday and another trip to the vets. This time was for our monthly flea, worm and tick treatment for Frankenstein. I was glad for this occasion though as we were able to have a consultation regarding my fur-babies growth.
Ever since I knew I was going to have a little boy, I knew that I would have to face this question. Shall I stud him out like some sort of doggo pimp? Or protect his innocence and get him castrated? Neutering means surgically preventing pets from reproducing and in males, the operation is called castration. With castration, both testicles are removed which takes away the main source of the male hormone testosterone. The operation is carried out under general anaesthetic and whilst every surgical procedure has some risk, modern techniques are very safe and help to make the whole thing as quick and easy as possible. Because it involves surgery, there will be some discomfort but with modern pain control, most dogs are up and about just a few hours after they’ve had their operation.
Whilst it is possible to get injections and tablets to prevent my little Frankenstein from breeding, these need repeating regularly and there is some risk of side effects as well as the added on ongoing cost. This was something I considered however this seems a pointless exercise when I have no real breeding or stud plan and would only really doing it ad-hoc and when we needed money.
From Frankenstein's humble beginnings as an accidental litter following a friend of my future mother-in-law (her husband who was rapidly deteriorating into dementia, unfortunately, one night back in early December last year let the breeding stud in with the family pet) my gorgeous little jack russell toy poodle cross was finally coming of age as he reached six-month mark. After being born around Valentine's day, along with his nine other brothers and sisters, our Frankenstein was reaching his sexual maturity and the conversation needed to be had regarding being left fully "intact" or to get him the snip.
I had a look at a lot of online forums, websites and even chatted with a few friends and colleagues who had to make dogs. Most of them, including the vet, nurse and puppy class trainer has said that essentially it would be unfair to let him have a taste and then deny him that again, especially if I did not plan to stud regularly or as a permanent fixture in his life. A great website in the UK for the charity Blue Cross had some helpful advice that helped me in making my decision. "There are lots of health, behavioural and social reasons why neutering your dog can be a good idea and for female dogs in particular, but neutering is not right for every dog but the fact that castration significantly reduces the chance of males getting prostate disease and reduces the risk of some cancers not to mention it can have a beneficial effect on behaviour." Blue Cross advises owners. Obviously, as an owner, there are many benefits as an unneutered dog is much more likely to direct their amorous intentions towards your favourite sofa; Or your visiting auntie. It is for this reason and the fact I don't really have a clue or plan in place that it would be unfair to let Frankie have a taste and to then take it away, probably causing more issues in the long run.
With this decision made and I suppose as a way of celebrating my little boys coming of age and moving from his toddler months into teenage-hood, I did what any good mom would do and take him for his first haircut. Starting our day well I had breakfast and shared my coffee with the little hairball before popping on some trainers and buckling him into the front seat of Clifford, my big red car. Sitting on my passenger seat and trundling through the country roads into Bedford Town Centre I looked down to the bundle of cuteness. Fluffy yet bedraggled and scruffy, like one of those typical skater boys your momma told you not to hang around with.
Pulling up and into the groomers, we walked in, skipping all the way. As I left empty-handed though I felt a little lost and as though I had missed something. I occupied myself by heading to a local charity shop and picking up a Disney babygrow for his operation in a few weeks time. As I were to cut a hole for his tail it would be perfect to protect his stitches from chewing and nibbling, and a darn sight cheaper than the fifteen-quid one the vet tried to flog me.
Picking him up from the groomers he smelt so fresh and cuddly, fluffy and soft as rabbit fur. A combination of puppy and baby powder he smelt like a dream! Paying the lady, Frankie and I headed back to the car but not before picking up a few treats for the good boy. As we drove the short distance down to Bedford town centre to walk along the river and meet my Dad for lunch I looked down again at the fluffy, powder-smelling pup sat beside me and as a song played on the radio I realised that this, in fact, was the happiest I had been for a while.
Finishing off our Momma and Puppa day out I was pleased when, after our walk along the river my black and tan Jackapoo with a white belly and old-man facial expressions retired to a posh riverside gastro-pub to meet with my Dad. One of his first questions seemed to resonate with me as I drove home in the summer sun that afternoon. As I looked down to my passenger seat and at Frankenstein's little face he glanced up and looked up at me, his every being dependant on me for all of what he needs I felt a sense of contentment. From this time last year to now was amazing. I was driving my own car after leaving a house I now owned with my fiance who I am due to marry next year with my new puppy beside me. This was everything I ever wanted and more.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Another Friday and another trip to the vets. This time was for our monthly flea, worm and tick treatment for Frankenstein. I was glad for this occasion though as we were able to have a consultation regarding my fur-babies growth.
Ever since I knew I was going to have a little boy, I knew that I would have to face this question. Shall I stud him out like some sort of doggo pimp? Or protect his innocence and get him castrated? Neutering means surgically preventing pets from reproducing and in males, the operation is called castration. With castration, both testicles are removed which takes away the main source of the male hormone testosterone. The operation is carried out under general anaesthetic and whilst every surgical procedure has some risk, modern techniques are very safe and help to make the whole thing as quick and easy as possible. Because it involves surgery, there will be some discomfort but with modern pain control, most dogs are up and about just a few hours after they’ve had their operation.
Whilst it is possible to get injections and tablets to prevent my little Frankenstein from breeding, these need repeating regularly and there is some risk of side effects as well as the added on ongoing cost. This was something I considered however this seems a pointless exercise when I have no real breeding or stud plan and would only really doing it ad-hoc and when we needed money.
From Frankenstein's humble beginnings as an accidental litter following a friend of my future mother-in-law (her husband who was rapidly deteriorating into dementia, unfortunately, one night back in early December last year let the breeding stud in with the family pet) my gorgeous little jack russell toy poodle cross was finally coming of age as he reached six-month mark. After being born around Valentine's day, along with his nine other brothers and sisters, our Frankenstein was reaching his sexual maturity and the conversation needed to be had regarding being left fully "intact" or to get him the snip.
I had a look at a lot of online forums, websites and even chatted with a few friends and colleagues who had to make dogs. Most of them, including the vet, nurse and puppy class trainer has said that essentially it would be unfair to let him have a taste and then deny him that again, especially if I did not plan to stud regularly or as a permanent fixture in his life. A great website in the UK for the charity Blue Cross had some helpful advice that helped me in making my decision. "There are lots of health, behavioural and social reasons why neutering your dog can be a good idea and for female dogs in particular, but neutering is not right for every dog but the fact that castration significantly reduces the chance of males getting prostate disease and reduces the risk of some cancers not to mention it can have a beneficial effect on behaviour." Blue Cross advises owners. Obviously, as an owner, there are many benefits as an unneutered dog is much more likely to direct their amorous intentions towards your favourite sofa; Or your visiting auntie. It is for this reason and the fact I don't really have a clue or plan in place that it would be unfair to let Frankie have a taste and to then take it away, probably causing more issues in the long run.
With this decision made and I suppose as a way of celebrating my little boys coming of age and moving from his toddler months into teenage-hood, I did what any good mom would do and take him for his first haircut. Starting our day well I had breakfast and shared my coffee with the little hairball before popping on some trainers and buckling him into the front seat of Clifford, my big red car. Sitting on my passenger seat and trundling through the country roads into Bedford Town Centre I looked down to the bundle of cuteness. Fluffy yet bedraggled and scruffy, like one of those typical skater boys your momma told you not to hang around with.
Pulling up and into the groomers, we walked in, skipping all the way. As I left empty-handed though I felt a little lost and as though I had missed something. I occupied myself by heading to a local charity shop and picking up a Disney babygrow for his operation in a few weeks time. As I were to cut a hole for his tail it would be perfect to protect his stitches from chewing and nibbling, and a darn sight cheaper than the fifteen-quid one the vet tried to flog me.
Picking him up from the groomers he smelt so fresh and cuddly, fluffy and soft as rabbit fur. A combination of puppy and baby powder he smelt like a dream! Paying the lady, Frankie and I headed back to the car but not before picking up a few treats for the good boy. As we drove the short distance down to Bedford town centre to walk along the river and meet my Dad for lunch I looked down again at the fluffy, powder-smelling pup sat beside me and as a song played on the radio I realised that this, in fact, was the happiest I had been for a while.
Finishing off our Momma and Puppa day out I was pleased when, after our walk along the river my black and tan Jackapoo with a white belly and old-man facial expressions retired to a posh riverside gastro-pub to meet with my Dad. One of his first questions seemed to resonate with me as I drove home in the summer sun that afternoon. As I looked down to my passenger seat and at Frankenstein's little face he glanced up and looked up at me, his every being dependant on me for all of what he needs I felt a sense of contentment. From this time last year to now was amazing. I was driving my own car after leaving a house I now owned with my fiance who I am due to marry next year with my new puppy beside me. This was everything I ever wanted and more.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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