The Green Fingered Goddess

Hello everyone, 

I suppose we have had a rather quiet weekend in comparison to last. No Parties and no worrying over BBQ's and finally no more wondering if Frankenstein is OK in his baby grow or if he would rather the cone. Following his last Vet check on Friday, he was given the all-clear and was ready for some more strenuous exercise, not that he had calmed down mind. With that in hand, I had mentioned to the Vet about possibly enrolling him into agility classes as he has so much energy and is a quick learner. She had agreed and suggested some local groups and classes which I will be sure to hit up, however, I think I will start to show him this year, especially since I will have a few on my doorstep. Who knows we might just win!

What with it being the Bank Holiday here in the UK as well this weekend, the last one before Santa comes, Mr Warehouse and I applied ourselves well and have done the garden. Well, at least some of it. You see most Bank Holidays in the UK are drizzly, wet and grey - If you haven't already noticed. However on the contrary, this one has been blisteringly hot, one of which my future husband and I can enjoy whilst not being as sun burnt as the last time there was a heatwave here.

Saturday Mr Warehouse was working the morning for some extra pennies so I decided to head out for the afternoon, popping by to my seamstress to see if she could work some magic by adding sleeves to my dress for a family event coming up soon. That night we looked after my future niece and nephews whilst their parents were out. Sunday I had reserved for hitting the shops in the hope of finding that elusive rattan garden corner sofa furniture set. And so leaving the pups at home in the coolness of the house Mr Warehouse and I headed out into the 30-something-degree weather and popped by a few stores picking up a much-needed hose for our newly acquired tap, some compost and numerous reduced flowers and bulbs, ready to pot. I was quiet surprised with myself as I sat back and looked at all our hard work for a Sunday afternoon, flowers and plants potted, garden watered and grass cut. Very well done us and as Mr Warehouse said as we settled in for the night that it really is starting to look a bit more like home. I just hope that my green-fingers don't ruin the plants as I am known for not being able to keep most plants in my life alive. Well, apart from that one cactus that looked like a penis and just kept growing?!

I remember thinking as we walked around garden centres and DIY shops as a child that this was the height of boring and that peaking as an adult was when you had been to or had any dealings with a DIY shop and gardening, well, that was just another hell I forced myself through in order to get pocket money. I didn't enjoy it and hated the fact that there were bugs everywhere, it was tough thick clay type mud which was never easy to work with and that it was arduously long work making me ache and hurt by the end of it all. I think it was probably at that point that I vowed, whilst my front garden, and even my back one, in my childhood home looked beautiful and people always commented on it, I would always choose to have my plants in pots, moreso for convenience. 

Today however as Bank Holiday Monday, our extra day out of the office and away from work has been less productive. It started off well, however, with promises of getting the Save the Dates done and ready to post out, however, instead we searched for a suit for Chris, again for the family occasion and scoured several shops in again soaring temperatures only to then buy online as there were limited sizes and styles. It started to lag however when we started the inventory of the wedding items we have purchased in preparation for next year, slowly wilting under the inescapable heat. Finally, I cracked and snoozed for longer than anticipated in the late afternoon. Since then we have set up the printer, and the laptop and printed out what our draft was, however on closer inspection there are some slight changes we probably will need to make before sending out, and that will be left now probably for a couple of weeks as Mr Warehouse will be preoccupied with other, more matrimonial duties and events ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

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

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

Family is not about Blood

Hiya, 

Hanging up the phone I was excited for my little Step-Pooch to get her nails clipped at the groomers as she does enjoy day trips out to new places. Always rushing to try and see everything, smell everything and generally be in everything. Always nosey and forever our little star when she goes anywhere with the Vet or Groomer they always tell us how good she is and how lucky we are to have such a well behaved dog. Or maybe that is just what they say to every owner?!

However, as we did our weekly "pretend" vet check where we get her up for cuddles on the sofa and pretend that she has her teeth checked, her eyes, her paws and her ears. But something was wrong. 
"What on earth is this" Mr Warehouse exclaimed as I turned to him he showed me. Not seeing clearly I allowed him to guide my hand over the inflamed sausage-shaped lump in our pup's floppy ear. Shaking us off it was obviously uncomfortable but not sore to the point she cried. I looked at Mr. Warehouse and we wondered if it was something serious. 
"If we need to go to the Vets we should go now," I said panicked as I looked at the time. It was early evening so confident we may get seen that night, so I dialled the number for our local vets. 

Without saying what it may be or telling us an educated diagnosis they seemed concerned and worryingly said that there were no appointments for that evening but instead, could we instead bring her in tomorrow morning, first thing. I agreed and ended the call with little more than being told it was a possible aural haematoma - a solid swelling of clotted blood within the tissues. But with the prospect of a £45.00 fee just to examine her properly, I shuddered at the true cost once medication and extras had been added. 

Wanting to make sure that our Vets were correct, and find a cheaper consultation fee, I called another vet closer to where we have now moved to in the countryside. They explained that yes, similar to a blood blister in humans, that animals can get these too, most commonly after an ear infection or, in this case, smacking a soft floppy ear off of something hard. Bursting the blood vessels and, unlike humans, dogs and other animals struggle to regulate this natural occurrence and thus rather than the body automatically absorbing the excess blood back into the tissue surrounding the area it creates a pocket that fills up and then starts to process and drain away the fluid into the body. However, this process could take days, weeks or even months in many cases and we discovered after Googling it (I know I told him not to but Mr Warehouse was on it before I came off the phone to the Vets) most dogs and cats are left with a cauliflower ear, crumpled and disfigured from the trauma. 

Booking an appointment for Monday we kept an eye on our grumpy pup all weekend and made sure that sausage was not filling up too much. I was concerned that the following morning we would come down to a bloodbath scene with splattering's up the new white carpet and walls following the blister bursting overnight. Thankfully we had nothing of the sorts and instead she was fine if only a little irritable.  And so this evening after work I arrived home and, bundling her into my little Fiat, Clifford, we went round to the new Vets. Pulling into the small car park and walking in, I felt happy with the practice and could see just how much they cared and loved animals from the photos and thank you cards on the walls. 
"This feels like a proper country bumpkin vet's," I said to my fiance, who laughed and made some comment about not being in the 'real' countryside. 

Soon we were called through and looking over her the petite blonde lady took another look at her ear and quizzed us both on our dog's habits and traits. I explained that following our Pyometra scare in February of 2016 she was operated on to save her life and spayed and that other than this she is as healthy and fit as a fiddle. 

The lovely Veterinary nurse said that most likely it was an aural haematoma and that this would be easily fixable. She explained that it’s typically caused by overly aggressive ear scratching or head shaking that resulted from an ear infection. To try and make our fur baby feel better the Vet suggested a drain to draw out the fluid with a needle or syringe under general anaesthetic. A steroid and medication would then be injected into the pocket to reduce swelling, inflammation and to stop it from happening again. However, she also explained that it is very common for an aural haematoma to return and on the next time, we would need surgery.

Going into more detail, The sweet lady said confirmed that a surgical repair is often considered the most effective treatment for ear hematomas. Looking online at vetstreet.com, Mr Warehouse has seen that, along with the Vets advice the surgery will be carried out under anaesthesia and an incision is made along the length of the aural hematoma on the inner surface of the ear. Once the fluid and blood clots are removed, the inner surface of the ear is tacked down to the outer surface of the ear with sutures. The sutures hold the inner and outer surfaces against each other so that when scar tissue forms, the two surfaces are smooth and not lumpy. The sutures generally stay in place for a few weeks while the incision is left open so that fluid will continue to drain as the ear heals. Eventually, the incision will heal on its own.

Taking the lead the kindly nurse took our pooch to have her aural haematoma drained and returned with a rather bloodied dog. Bleeding stemmed,  her fur and coat were smothered with bright red claret. We must have looked worried as the vet went on to explain that whilst she has attempted to drain all of the blood (and apparently there was alot) there may still be a little amount that will continue to come in the next few days, and, coupled with the steroids and medication to prevent it filling again we may have a little spillage here and there. 

Told to keep an eye on it and being given our first lot of ear gel, we booked in for another appointment next week to see how pup gets on. Looking at it now as she sits at the foot of the bed, on a towel and looking sorry for herself, I remind myself about how complacent I can be sometimes, about how we can all be sometimes, when someone we are around all the time becomes ill or poorly and you remember just how much they mean to you and this is no different when it comes to our dog. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Hitting Peak!

Hello, 

After what seemed like an eternity we had finally arrived. Right in the heart of the Peak District, miles from anyone or anything. The thought there was idealistic, although the reality of booking somewhere far away from Wifi, strong enough signal to Google-Map and just general civilisation was far from what I expected. But with the flakes of snow beginning to fall from the dusky sky, landscape littered with peaks and rolling hills of country park ready to explore with pooch we were excited for our mini weekend in the Peak District. 

As for Pup, she was still not back to herself but I really think that she enjoyed her surprise of snowy landscapes and hundreds of fields to run about in. She even made some friends with the neighbouring flock of sheep. Pooch was still not eating properly and despite bringing dog food and trying in-vain to get her to eat that, it was small handfuls of pasta that seemed to work. I suppose as a parent would we went back to what we know and both Mr. Warehouse and I knew she would struggle to resist the pull of some Penne. Saying that though we did try her this morning and she seemed to enjoy eating her normal dog food, albeit just the canned wet stuff. 

Settling into our little stone-brick home for the next few nights Mr. Warehouse and I were perplexed with the smell and list of odd house rules. One of the reasons we booked was for the use of the log burning fire / stove and when the house rules said that it was forbidden I was gutted to say the least, especially since our trip to York just before Christmas. Nevertheless we would make it our own, but with very limited signal and no Wifi we were a bit put out with the bare-basic accommodation. Relaxing into the comfy leather loungers in the front room I was more than ready for bed.. So after a trip to the nearest town to collect a Takeout (a forty-minute hilly and country-dirt-track drive I might add) and a little bit of telly Mr. Warehouse and I hit the sack. 

The following day we decided to head out to Bakewell, a small village known worldwide for their tarts. But rumour would have it that the humble Bakewell tart is not the original of his tasty ancestors, oh no! It would appear to all intense and purposes that the creation of the Bakewell Pudding as it was traditionally called was a simple misunderstanding between a Mistress and her Kitchen Assistant who, in her inexperience in such a role made a puff pastry rather than a shortcrust and ergo you now have the pastry-that's-not-a-pastry delight - Bakewell Pudding. After my Frangipane fling it will certainly be a recipe I will have to attempt and maybe even tweek at home.  One thing I would say is that most places in  the Peak District, including Bakewell are very receptive to dogs and are more than happy to have them in their shops, restaurants and pubs, a point which we unfortunately discovered alone, whilst our pooch was back at the holiday cottage. 

Saturday we headed to Buxton, home of the water in the UK and the countries leading Spa town. Not that we had a lot of that going on. It was snowing for yet again the third day in a row and whilst it was entertaining in the morning on our walks and rambles with doggy, it was becoming tiresome having to manage peaks, hills, mountains and narrow country lanes as well as the poor weather conditions. It made everything worse. Mr. Warehouse and I couldn't go for a walk or mooch about the shops or even have a potter without having to be dressed up to the nines in coats, hats, scarf's and gloves. After a few hours we headed home to the wilderness and watched a film or two. 

The last day is always the worst, packing up and heading home back to real life again. Truth be told I was looking forward to some Internet and being able to just pop to the shops for something, not having a long-winded trip to get there and I certainly wont be sorry for those roads. Although I must say that since being back, if even for less than twenty-four hours I am starting to miss the gear changes and whizzing round the country-side. Having been there as a child I thought a nice place to go would be The Heights of Abraham, just outside Matlock Bath. On even a dull and overcast day it would have been passable, but when the weather was beating down on us like a parent on an errant child, snowing, raining and windy it was far from the best choice. Cable car up, a quick walk around and hot cocoa later we were back down and heading to the car, bound for home. Real home. Gutted I wasn't able to experience and share my childhood in part with my boyfriend and his pooch I felt deflated and upset, but as I drove the two and a bit hours home, I realised that we have shared in some classic memories that we will all remember and cherish forever. 

Back home we have just arrived back from the Vets and they have not said as yet either way what sort of operation she will need next. As last week it will either be a full blown Pyometra operation to remove her pus-filled and inflamed womb, or just a simple spaying. The difference in price will be drastic but even the cheaper Op. of the two will be pricey. Here's hoping that tomorrow's phone call with the Vet will bring about good news and that her results will show something that wont break the bank. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx