Tag Archives: dog show

Poor little doggie woggie

Douggie the doggie did his first ever public performance of heelwork to music yesterday at an animal sanctuary fun day.

He was brilliant. Along with the other dogs in the team he twisted, twirled, weaved, bowed and wowed the crowd. I was so proud of him.

The event itself was well organised and well attended.  Lots of dogs brought their owners along for a day out. That of course meant that Douggie was ridiculously over excited at all the new friends he could make. I think he fell just a little bit in love with another white golden retriever, a cute little girl three months younger than him called Heidi. She was a stunner.

Len and Lashes brought their baby bichon along. She entered him into the most handsome dog competition but he didn’t win. He was robbed! He was by far the most handsome dog.

Munki tried her hand at archery, bouncy castling -ing, sliding, climbing and every other kind of ‘ing’ on offer, of which there was plenty. It was a really nice day out for us all.


Douggie threw up. Yuk.

There I was scooping it up into poo bags. No more detail needed, I feel.

Suffice to say that the visit/scooping/ disinfecting  action was repeated many times over the next twenty four hours.  What I don’t understand is that why, in a house full of tiles does the dog feel the need to throw up all over the only bits of carpet we have down? More than once I was holding his ears back and holding a towel under him to try and save my carpet.  To very little avail I might add. The poor pooch couldn’t even keep sips of water down. he was one poorly doggie.

At 3.30 a.m. he came upstairs, clearly feeling wretched and needing some help.  Boofuls and I thought he was about to have another  seizure so we sat with him for an hour until we were fairly sure he wasn’t.  At 5.00 a.m. I was walking round our field with him after he woke me up to take him out for, well, you know.  Again, no details needed. The poor dog was like a wrung out cloth, listless tired and wobbly. He was so ill I even let him sleep in the bedroom. What a night, he wasn’t the only one like a wrung out cloth by the time it ended.

An early morning  phone call and subsequent visit to the vet saw us £92 lighter and Douggie much more relaxed. He’s an expensive hobby, this dog. It’s a good job he’s worth it. You’ll be glad to know he’s back to his normal, bouncy, irritating self now.

Got to go – a pair of large, limpid brown eyes are looking at me and imploring me to go for a walk.


Cor blimey! It’s been an exciting few days.

Gembolina kicked it all off when a couple of Chinese girls visiting from Hong Kong and busily looking at their phones stepped straight out into the road in front of her car. Gem managed to take the pair of ’em down like skittles. The head of one of the girls connected with the windscreen and put a hefty crack in it. Poor old Gem was a nervous wreck. A passing lorry driver stopped and helped her out until the police and ambulance arrived. You’ll be glad to know that there were no serious injuries.

The following day, Saturday, Boofuls and me were working at a wedding in Blackpool. It was a long day as normal but a nice one except that as we were leaving to head home for a much needed glass of wine the zip broke on my camera bag and £10,000 of camera kit fell to the floor. FFS!!!!! That was not how I wanted the day to end. Luckily, no major damage seems to have been done but I’ll have to put it all in for a service  and get it checked over.

Next was the long awaited heelwork to music demonstration that Douggie the doggie and me were doing at a local country fair. Pppsshshsttt.

Get there for 10.00a.m. they said. You won’t get parked after that they said. It’ll be really busy they said.

At 10.00 a.m. practically the only other person on this field with us was the bag lady with nicotine brown teeth, unwashed clothes and body and a propensity for getting into ones personal space while giving me advice on how to look after my dog.  Ohhhhhhh kaaaaaaaaaaaaayy. Step away, bag lady.

Eventually it all got going. The rest of the dog club arrived and we set up the arena and tent for the demonstration and dog show. Just as I was starting to get the collywobbles about performing in public our trainer came over and announced that we wouldn’t be doing the demonstration after all and we were going to get straight on with the dog show. Huh? I was all psyched up and ready. Talk about all dressed up and nowhere to go. I was gutted.

After bowing to some peer pressure I entered Douggie into a couple of classes at the dog show. He came second in the best dog class and also second in the best trick class. Here we are with his rosettes. I think Douggie’s trying to eat them. Talking of eating – or more to the point, throwing up. Douggie had to go to the vet the other day because he’d vommed a few times he was definitely not feeling himself. Not that there’s a lot to feel now the knackers have come off. Anyway…. The vet looked, prodded poked. Decided she didn’t know what was wrong, gave him a ‘I’ll cover all bases’ cocktail injection and told me to take him back the following day. £62.50 that little lot! The following day she repeated the whole procedure and charged me £65 with a request to bring him back in two days’ I should bloody coco! It’s just cost me a small fortune, she must think I’m made of money. Covering all bases seemed to work though as he’s much brighter and back to normal mischief making.




As if that wasn’t enough excitement, Boofuls managed to drop an heavy lump of metal onto his foot today and ended up in A & E getting it checked out. What with his bad hips and now a bad foot he’s walking like a bloody weeble – you know, those things that wobble but they don’t fall down? That brings us nicely up to date. They say things come in threes but this week it’s been one thing after another. I hope it all clams down a bit, my nerves are in tatters!


Loads of other things have happened but time to sit down and tell you all about them seems to be in short supply.


Woof! Your’e right, dog, it is rough

Interesting day last Sunday. Not that Boofuls would agree with me. He would rather have put pins in his eyes but let me not get ahead of myself, dear reader. Let’s start at the beginning.

As you know, Douggie the Doggie and me have been dancing together for a few months now and I’ve had an idea that we might like to travel a bit further down this route.

Hence the two hour drive to Geordie land to watch a doggie dancing aka heelwork to music competition.

The drive to Geordie land was one thing but actually getting into Geordie land was another thing entirely. The whole place seemed to be cordoned off. No problem I can hear you saying, the sat nav will find other route in. Well, you’d think so, wouldn’t you? In actual fact the sat nav seemed to be feeling a bit bellicose and sat there in my frustrated little hand saying snarkily, ‘Oi! Don’t you know it’s a bank holiday? Feck off. I’m entitled to my holidays as well’.

Dagnabbit! By the time we get to this bloody dog show it’ll be all over!

At yet another road block we shared our dilemma with the traffic officer, as had the 100 or so drivers in front of us in their attempts to get into town. His look of resigned patience turned to a big smile as he realised he was finally going to give someone an answer they wanted to hear. “Leisure Centre? OH! That’s not a problem. Just go down there and turn right.”

Halle sodding lujah!

We pulled into the leisure centre car park to find it overflowing with cars sporting doggie stickers, logos, adverts and bursting at the seams with doggie paraphernalia. Dog bowls littered the ground, poo bins were placed at ten foot intervals and intense looking dog owners practised their dance routines with their dogs on the grass verges.

“I think this is the right place, Love.”

Douggie of course thought it was play time. He quickly learnt that even a sly sniff at another dog’s backside would see the poor unfortunate beast being frogmarched away with a backwards dirty look. There should have been a big sign on the wall. NO FRATERNISING!

Luckily, we managed to arrive during the beginners section as that’s what I was particularly interested in. My fiendish plan being to watch, listen and learn before we dip our toes to into the doggie dancing water.

We watched. We listened and we learnt. Lots. All I can say is: I think me and Douggie are ready to compete.

Poor old Boofuls. His eyes glazed over and he rocked backwards on his heels as if readying himself for a sprint out of the door. I tried to bribe him with a cup of tea and a sandwich from the snack bar. Oh dear Lord. It’s bad when even I won’t eat it as I’m most definitely not known for being a picky eater. I’m generally more of your, ‘one snort and it’s gone’ type of eater. Still, I think Douggie enjoyed it.

After an hour and a half or so we decided we’d seen enough.

Then came the start of a ‘Why did I not just keep my mouth shut’ moment.

We know some people who live in Geordie land and decided it would be nice to pop in and see them.

He was at work, no problem, it’s his business so there was no danger of him getting in trouble from the boss. Perfect, I thought. A quick hello and we’ll be on our way. I’m afraid not. He decided he’d leave work because he was dying to show us his new home. He set off on his bike and we followed behind in the car. Painful.

WE got to the new home to discover that wifey was out with baby and had hubby’s keys with her. That was the start of what felt like and age of hanging around in his garden shed sheltering from the rain and making awkward conversation while knowing that we couldn’t make our excuses and leave as wifey was pushing a pram and rushing back from wherever it was she’d been. Offers to go and pick her up in our car were met with, “No. It’s no bother. She’ll be here in a minute.” Times that by FORTY and it’d be about right. It was my turn to want to put pins in my eyes.

Eventually she turned up, red faced and breathless, and we went into the house only to be told to talk in whispers so we didn’t wake the baby who’d fallen asleep in his pram while being bounced around on the journey. We were also told not to touch the dog because if we did it’d pee on the carpet. Oops. Too late. Two big wet patches on the carpet betrayed the fact that we hadn’t been given the instruction soon enough. Our hostess looked, sighed, came back with a can of ‘Doggie Whiffaway’ gave the carpet a couple of squirts and us a couple of dirty looks. I’m sorry. Housetrain your dog.

So it continued. All topics of mutual ground were covered fairly quickly, and quietly due to the sleeping sprog.

I wonder, where exactly is the moment in a boring, awkward and whispered conversation when you can say without causing offence; “Well, we’d better make a move”?

Wherever it is, Boofuls was steadfastly ignoring it and my attempts to make a sharp exit. Up would come a new topic of conversation for ten seconds or so then everyone would look back down at their coffee cups and wait to the next burst of conversational inspiration.

I screamed silently, ‘Take me now, God! I’m more than ready.’

Eventually, after an hour or so Boofuls finally responded to my not so subtle hints of, “Well, the dog is in the car so we’d better not leave him there too long as we still have a very long journey to do.”

When he did finally take the hint everyone looked really relieved. Next time we’re in Geordie land I’ll just keep my mouth shut and we’ll head on straight home – or at least let them know in advance that we’re coming and can’t stay for many minutes – which with hindsight would have been a far better idea.

Oh well, you live and learn.

I’m gonna shove this sausage….

Well, Douggie the Doggie met his brother on Saturday at the golden retriever rescue annual ‘invite only’ bash.

I only mention it’s invite only because in my innocence and naivety I thought that if you were having a fund raising event you’d want the world to know about it. How wrong can you be? having lost the letter inviting us to the event I posted the heinous question on the forum. “Where’s the fun day being held?” The answer  appeared – only to disappear again a short while later. In it’s place was a private message  telling me that loose talk causes uninvited guests to turn up. Isn’t that a good thing? Apparently not.


Knuckles duly rapped we turned up and enjoyed the day immensely. Food, sunshine, lots of people and dogs to meet, prizes, what’s not to like?

Douggie came 2nd in the best puppy competition and between us we came third in the best six legs competition. I knew that my eclectic look of pale blue, hairy legs teamed with grey hiking socks and boots was a winning combination, especially next to Douggie’s polar white paws. None of this gaudy golden colour of the other dogs for us, we kept to a soft monochrome leg look, nicely offset with kingfisher blue leggings, tee shirt and fleece – and it paid off. I’m looking tres elegant as normal, as you can see.


Awww, don’t he look a cutie with his rosettes?


We met lots of nice people and Douggie’s brother, Derek.  It was all so emotional, I could have cried. I don’t know why it was so emotional, it just was. We hit it off with Derek’s Mum and have made arrangements to meet up and keep in touch. All in all not a bad day out. Here’s Douggie  on the left and Derek on the right along with step sister, Honey in the middle. Douggie is most definitely the big brother.



I’d been telling Derek’s mum that Douggie has this amazing talent for destroying indestructible toys. His latest Kong toy, a fluffy moose, had it’s ears ripped off in seconds and the rest of it was systematically demolished over the course of the next couple of days. That prompted me to go for a bigger, even tougher toy. A black, rubber, cone shaped affair that’s allegedly tougher than a tough thing. The idea is that you stuff dog treats into one end of it and it keeps the dog amused for hours as it tries to extricate them. Brilliant, every dog should have one!

After the show we said our goodbyes and me, Boofuls and Batty all went out to the pub with the rude name for dinner. Batty ordered sausage and mash. Boofuls and me went for the roast beef and yorkshire pudding combo. As always it was delicious. Batty couldn’t finish all of hers so I decided that we’d take the remaining big, juicy sausage home with us for the dog. “I know, I’m going to stuff this sausage right up his Kong and see how long it takes him to get it out.” I cried in delight at being able to kill two birds with one stone, ie. economising and amusing the dog at the same time.

It was only when everyone else fell about laughing and the dour men at the next table gave me a look that would curdle milk,  that I realised how my comment sounded to those not ‘in the loop’. Oops.