Tag Archives: dog

Let me solve all your problems

Bit of a stream of consciousness, this one. It might make sense, it might not…

Of course it’s dead easy to solve everyone else’s problems, isn’t it? I can solve all of your problems standing on my head. My solution will probably start with…”you should”.

Nothing I like better than being, as an old boss of mine used to say, ‘should upon’. To be honest not much will get my back up quicker than someone telling me that I should…

It’s not so bloody easy to solve your problem when it’s right in front of you and you are emotionally attached to the issue though, is it?

I have a well meaning, but somewhat bullying friend who has ALL the answers. At this present moment she is giving three of us the full brunt of her opinion. As we strolled along the beach the other day she told me that she is disappointed with all of her closest friends. Not wanted to engage in another nagging session, I simply replied, “I know.” and left it at that.

It’s not even that her opinion is wrong. Annoyingly, I know she is right.  However, what she doesn’t take into account is that it’s not always black and white. Except that for her it is. ‘Here’s the answer, just do it’, is her attitude.

So. What is it that has become such an issue. Obviously I’m not going to discuss the others, that’s none of my, or your, business. My issue is my big, fluffy, lovely  ball and chain, Douggie the doggie.

You all know I adore the boy and he adores me, he is my shadow. Most of the time it’s not an issue. Occasionally it is.  Occasionally, we have to go to places where he can’t go.  She’ll happily step in to dog sit and when I’d been in hospital she walked him almost daily for me. That was brilliant. The problem is that Douggie prefers to be with me and won’t settle terribly well at her house. That means overnight stays or holidays become difficult. Now, if Douggie was an ordinary doggie, he’d just have to toughen up.

But Douggie isn’t an ordinary doggie, is he? Douggie is an epileptic doggie who has fits when he gets stressed. Like I said, big, lovely, fluffy ball and chain. Yes, he takes medication, yes, I know she would know what to do in an emergency.  It sounds perfect, doesn’t it?

Except that I know any fit could be his last, the strain on his body is horrendous.  His last fit was a humdinger. The sight of a six stone dog thrashing about on the floor having a fit stays with you. He managed to kick me in the face last time as we lifted him off the sofa where his grand mal started. OW!

First, I don’t want to put him in a stressful situation, like being away from home. Second, I would never forgive myself if he had a fit (possibly his last) while I was away. The whole situation makes me feel ill. Even though I know that Boofuls and I desperately need to get some time together and not have a break that revolves round the dog and his needs.

So, my friend’s solution is to stop letting the dog follow me everywhere. Stop taking him up to bed when I go. Stop considering his needs. Basically ignore him so he doesn’t care if I’m there or not so he will then happily stay with her.

Um. No.

I really don’t think I can do that. I like being the centre of his world. I am aware of the strength of that sentence. I know, I know,  I am my own worst enemy in this situation.

We made a commitment to him when we took him on and I take that very seriously.  We are leaving him more often and trying to build up more independence in him but it’s very difficult for both of us. Since we took him in six years ago he has never really been left alone as he used to come to work with us.

It might be a while before we get this one sorted. In the meantime I’ll just have to put up with the sighs, complaints that I treat my dog like a baby, dirty looks and snide comments from Mrs Black and White





Funny thing about bacon. No matter how much I cook and serve to other people, when I step outside and smell it from someone else’s kitchen I always think, ‘Mmmmm…bacon.’

At the moment we are enjoying the calm before the storm. From next week the bookings really step up and it starts to get busy in hotel land. To while away my time  in this quietish period and to prevent boredom (ha! Fat chance of being bored with a to do list as long as my arm) I have been having a go at making some jewellery using the sea glass and shells I pick up on the beach and a few pictures. What do you think?


Then we decided duet the bank holiday that we’d pop over to Brixham on the ferry to have a look at the pirate festival. Well, you can’t turn up in a car can you.  Any self respecting pirate would hop on a boat, so we did.

It was a cold and blustery day but Boofuls cheered it up by dressing as Woodstock pirate and I went as Adam Ant pirate.  A couple of tots of rum once we landed warmed us up nicely and we soon got into the spirit of it all. There is a video of  Lashes and I having a sword fight with a couple of  buccaneers, I’ll post that when I retrieve it from Boofuls’ phone.


Taking a drive round Torbay the other day we were a little bit surprised to see this at the traffic lights.  A ship at the lights isn’t something you see every day, is it?


Dougie the doggie was so excited, he thought it was a huge fish to play with. haha. Once he realised it wasn’t he looked a little bit glum. Not for long though. A quick dive into the water soon sorted him out.


Joke of the day

Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl have a wee?
Because the p is silent!!
Hooohoohoo, heeheeheee. Made me laugh for ages, that one!
That was one of Munki’s jokes. Not bad for a seven year old, eh?

Dougie the doggie and I managed to while away almost three hours on the beach today. When I realised it was starting to dark I hurried home thinking that Boofuls would think I’d been carried off by the circus or something.

How did I manage to spend almost three hours on a beach in the middle of winter?


The tide was out so Douggie and I paddled all the way round the coast, clambering over rocks, marvelling at hermit crabs scuttling around with their homes on their backs, searching for sea glass and pebbles shaped like penguins. We found a baby starfish! It only had two arms, the others were little nubbly bits just starting to grow. It didn’t look so much like a star fish as a propellor. I put it under a piece of seaweed for safe keeping hoping that it wouldn’t get trampled to death by one of the many galloping hounds on the beach today. Dougie of course tried his best to get to it so I distracted him by throwing stones into the water for him to chase. I have to throw stones because if I throw a ball he won’t bring it back. As a retriever he’s pretty rubbish. I should probably explain to him again that he’s a golden RETRIEVER the clue’s in the name, really.

The sun shone onto the ripples in the sand making the beach glint and shine. I spent far too much time moving around trying to find which way the light gave the best effect. Some of the other beach walkers must have though I was doing some weird yoga exercise in my wellies and waterproofs and I crouched low and moved left and right, bobbing and weaving while I stared at the ground. The buildings high up on the hill were reflected in the puddles on the sand. Again, I moved this way and that trying to get the best image. I would have taken a photo but my phone died a watery death a couple of weeks ago and I don’t want to lug a big, professional camera around with me…

Wait…what…did I say my phone died a watery death a few weeks ago? Why, yes, dear reader, I did.

But…didn’t your phone die a watery death just a few months ago? Why, yes again, dear reader. My, what a good memory you have.

This time it was somewhat more dignified than last time when it fell out of my back pocket and into the loo. This time it fell out of my coat pocket and into the sea. Nonetheless, the ed result was the same. Instant death.

Still, let’s not dwell on that. Let’s return to our afternoon on the beach.

The sun cast warm, long shadows, the clouds turned pink and the sea lapped gently on the shore shining blue, pink or green depending on how the light hit it. I stood fascinated by it all while Doggie found himself a nice little spaniel to flirt with. people strolled up and down. As I so often am, I was stuck by how many people wear black. It look like a funeral director’s day out. The dark clothes looked at odds with the beautiful, dancing, ever changing light that the elements had treated us too but it seemed like I was the only person to notice.

Eventually the sun dropped down behind the hill and the gorgeous light changed to a soft, violet grey. At that point I shivered and realised I must have been out for hours.

So there you are. That’s how easy it is to spend a whole,afternoon on a beach. A bit of imagination, the company of a dog and some lovely weather. Not a bad way to spend the afternoon.

The Curious Waves

While I was taking the dog for his evening walk tonight I was lured to the sea front by the sound of crashing waves.  IT’s like a magnet, crashing waves, I can’t help but go and take a look as I’ m fascinated by the sea.  Since being a small child I’ve wanted to live by the sea – and now I do. Ok, it took fifty years to achieve my goal but we’re here now. Better late than never.

Anyway, back to the plot. As I walked down towards the prom I could see that every now and then a wave would pop it’s head up over the wall as if trying to see what was on the other side.  Not that there was a lot to see, a few stray tourists, a couple who, like me, clearly enjoyed watching the waves, a couple of cars and that was about it.

Still the sea kept jumping up trying to look over the wall.

I was quietly giggling to myself at the absurdity of it all when a huge waved jumped straight over the wall and soaked a couple who had been quietly minding their own business. Ok. I admit it. I laughed.

It didn’t stop me playing chicken with the waves five minutes later, unlike the other people though, I only got my feet wet. That happens so regularly these days that I’m in great danger of developing trench foot. It’s worth it though, it’s also worth the fifty year wait to get here. As I walk along the prom in the morning before starting work I just can’t believe how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful place. It just goes to show, it’s never to late to live your dreams.

Here are a few photos, taken on different days. Enjoy.

Copyright tripping over pebbles no more
Copyright tripping over pebbles no more

Adipose Anonymous

It was all a bit lively at my weekly Adipose Anonymous meeting this morning. My newly rediscovered joie do vivre must have been on show because as soon as I walked in up went a shout of “Hey! Our Lesley’s back! We’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been here every week.”

“yeah but now YOU’RE back.”

Heh. That was nice. There was a lot of giggling and silliness going on today. At one point the leader told us that we were being obstreperous. Ha! That was a mistake. Just about every one in the room tried out their own way of saying it and the consensus was that locally it’s pronounced ‘obstrockolous.’ Funny, that’s how my first husband used to say it.

Anyway, you may put your congratulations in the comments box, dear reader. Yours truly is officially no longer a porky bint as I’ve got back to my goal weight. Yay! That’s been hard work. Fair to say I’m feeling very pleased with my little self today. Things are looking up.

On a totally non related note:

I was standing in the kitchen the other day cleaning up the debris that occurs and a ridiculously regular basis when I heard a sound like water pouring.

“What the ………? Oh no!!!”

I’d somehow and without noticing knocked over a jug of water and the whole lot poured off the worktop and straight into a 12 kilo bag of dog food.  Fer Gawd’s sake!! You couldn’t make it up.

Not prepared to throw away £60 of dog food I spread it all out on baking trays and spread them out all over the kitchen to dry out. My God, that stuff stinks when it’s out of the bag! Poo-wee! It took two days to dry it all out. It didn’t cross my mind to put it in the oven to dry out  until I was scooping the last bit back into it’s bag.


Douggie and Shazza

Purely by coincidence, this photograph of Douggie the doggie and Shazza the kitty popped up today.


Douggie was about a year old and Shazza about ten weeks old when this was taken. Shazza’s all grown up now and hates the sight of Douggie. Poor pooch doesn’t know what on earth he’s done to upset her.
 Um? Hello? What’s happened to the font?
I can’t get it to change back. Heeeeeeelp!!!!!

You know your dog has taken over your life when…..

You know your dog has taken over your life when…..you get woken up by having a big wet fluffy bear thrust into your face by a grinning dog who’s decided you’ve been asleep long enough and now it’s playtime.

I accidentally left the bedroom door open one night last week which meant that Douggie was able to get in and alert us that he was about to have a seizure – giving me enough time to get his homeopathic remedy into him in time to stop it in it’s tracks. Good eh? Since then we’ve left the bedroom door ajar at night and he’s taking full advantage of it. Now it’s slobbery kisses in the middle of the night, sighing, flopping around trying to get comfy – and that’s just Boofuls hahahaaa.

You know your dog has taken over your life when…..you change handbags to match your outfit and discover a sausage that in there you’d bought at the local sandwich shop a day or two previously to use for training treats and forgotten about.

You know your dog has taken over your life when…..by saying ‘match my outfit’ (see above) outfit you mean a different colour of track suit bottoms or jeans since skirts and dresses just aren’t  practical for walking, training and playing with a big uber slobbery hound. Ah, those were the days when I used to swan about suited and booted, perfectly groomed and coiffed on a daily basis. Now it’s an event. If only my image consultant ex colleagues could see me now. One extreme to t’other!

Yup. There’s no doubt about it. The dog has taken over my life.

The other love of my life, Boofuls seems to be a bit distracted at the moment. During a conversation the other day I said to him that we could go to Devon for a few days when all of our current mayhem subsides a bit.

He looked at me bemused and said. “Why? There’s nothing we have to do down there is there.”

Me: “No, love. Some people might call it a holiday.”

Poor old Boofuls looked at me stunned for a moment as he realised what he’d said. It’s a poor do when you’ve forgotten the concept of a holiday, isn’t it?  Here’s a little reminder, Boofuls.


Copyright Copyright Copyright Copyright

Source: internet
Source: internet



On a scale of one to ten

I used to be such a little bundle of joy. What happened?

Oh yeah. Life.

I’ve had a few days to calm down now – and it’s just as well because if I’d sat down to write this last week when there was still steam coming from my eyes your poor eyeballs would have been seared with the strength of my profanity.

On the scale of 1 – 10 of pissed offness with 1 being slightly irritated and 10 being totally pissed off I was boiling somewhere around a 15.

What was the cause of my mood? Well, dear reader, I’l tell you.

Death number five in this year of loss occurred a week or so ago. A nice old chap Boofuls and I have known for some years. Not unexpected but still very sad. His funeral was booked for Thursday. Obviously, as near professional funeral goers this year, Boofuls and I planned to go.

Then I realised that I had a client booked in. The same one who’s appointment I’d changed in order to attend my cousin’s funeral. So reluctantly I said to Boofuls, “I can’t change it again, she’ll never believe it’s another funeral and I can’t keep messing  her about. You go, I’ll see the client.”

And so it came to pass that I sat twiddling my thumbs waiting for a client who didn’t turn up while I didn’t pay my last respects to a  lovely old chap. My normal professional veneer may have cracked a little when I phoned my client to enquire as to her whereabouts only to have her tell me she’d forgotten her appointment.  I don’t think she was in any doubt as to how happy I was about it.

Moving on…..  Here’s a round up of the week’s news.

While we were in Torquay last week Douggie the doggie, Boofuls and I were play fighting on the bed  in the hotel. Douggie twisted round and accidentally scratched my face, leaving me with two livid red marks right down my face. My, that hurt!

When we got back home Gembolina asked me if the red marks were because I’d been wind whipped by the massive storms that happened while we were there. “Wind whipped? No. I was dog walloped.”

Despite all our best efforts with a DAP spray, DAP diffuser, rescue remedy and valerian tablets, Douggie had yet another fit a few days after we got home. The one was the worst yet in as much as it occurred outside. FOOOKKKK!!!!!!!

Since we live on a farm and the nearest road is quarter of a mile away I opened the front door while I put my walking boots on so Douggie could gambol around on the path while he waited for me.  he shot out of the door like his backside was on fire and then collapsed behind my car.

It was terrifying. More so because when he comes round from a fit he has no idea who I am, where he is and is uncharacteristically aggressive. Once he managed to stagger to his feet he growled at me a bit as I tried to prevent him running away and then he ran off up the track with me running behind him calling his name and praying he wouldn’t make it as far as the road.

Eventually he responded to my calls and stopped to look at me. Eventually he fearfully and slowly approached me as he regained his senses. Thank God! If I hadn’t already been weeping with fear I’d have wept with relief.

I decided enough was enough and took him to the vet. Her advice was amazing. Apparently they have two main types of treatment for epilepsy. One could damage his kidneys, and she didn’t want to prescribe it as he’s only just turned two. The other treatment doesn’t actually work. Hhhmm. There’s Hobson’s choice if I’ve ever seen it.

What happens next is a tale I’m saving for tomorrow.

Consonants? Who needs ’em?

Last week we went on another foray  down south to my cousin’s funeral. I’m going to leave that one right there and move on….

Since the funeral was in Swindon and that meant we were most of the way to Devon we decided to spend a few days  there, in Torquay of course, where else?

Travelling and being away from home has got trickier and trickier as time has gone on. What to do with poor Douggie? If we take him the stress of the journey can bring on a seizure. If we leave him the stress of us not being there can bring on a seizure. We decided to take him.

Armed with his pills, a DAP diffuser, a DAP spray, Bach flower remedies and all his toys and bed we set off.  In the hours before we set off and were packing and generally getting prepared for the journey Douggie paced the floor whining and unsettled. Every time we went outside he stuck to us like glue, terrified we’d leave him behind. How on earth does he know we’re going even before we have started to pack? 

We made it to Torquay with no dramas you’ll be glad to hear. The DAP spray and diffuser worked like magic. I’m sure it’s anaesthetic. One whiff and he nods off. Very handy for when we were at the funeral. He just sat in the back of the car snoring and whistling till we came back.  It was expensive but worth every penny.

We arrived in Torquay at the same time as the BIG storm. Wild? It was incredible. Wet and windy, we didn’t care though, we were just glad to be back.  Douggie certainly didn’t care, the wetter the better for him. I of course got soaked to the skin when my waterproofs though ‘oh sod it, it’s too hard, this’ and gave up the ghost. I was sodden. getting wet clothes and a wet dog dried off in a small, cramped hotel room was tricky, not to mention smelly. Poo-wee, that dog stinks when he’s wet.

On our last evening we met up with our sister in law and nephew for a few hours. Time for a catch up now that it’s been a couple of weeks since Boofuls’ brother’s funeral.  Our nephew kept us all amused with tales of his teenage escapades,  he’s only just turned eighteen and thinks he’s over the hill. Bless him, he’s got a lot to learn. 

One of his tales involved a nearby place called Goodrington. It hasn’t got a lot except a fantastic all year round beach for dogs but his story kept us highly amused, once we worked out what he was actually saying.  I heard him say  Gu’ru’u at least three times before I realised what he was saying. “Gu’ru’u?   I’ve never heard of that, Where did you say?  Oh! Goodrington!” 

It seems that Devonian young people have decided to drop as many consonants as possible while speaking

I think it might catch on, who needs consonants anyway?