No really, it was.
The only trouble with Mrs Woofy being a genius dog is that as we progress up the classes in obedience and agility we also progress up the time slots.
The Thursday night obedience class doesn’t start till 9pm, dangerously close to my bedtime and it’s only a half hour class, hardly worth the half hour drive each way to attend. I do wonder why I persist in going, especially in winter when it’s dark and miserable out and we daren’t set foot in the park for a pre class walk, mostly because of the dogging of a totally different kind.
I normally cadge a lift there and back with my friend and neighbour, Mrs Yappy’s mum so at least I don’t have to drive. I do have to listen to Mrs Yappy and her little, although stonkingly huge, little brother Mr Yelp, yapping and yelping all the way there and back in their custom made cages. Posh sods, Mrs Woofy has to make do with sitting curled up on my feet in the front of the car.
Mr Yelp is a Belgian Shepherd, he featured in the Christmas card I did – at Christmas funnily enough.
The class itself was fun. As it was such a foul night, cold, with a bitter ear nipping wind, not many people had turned up so there was only four of us which gives more scope for fun and games. Last night’s game was retrieve the toy, not as Mrs Woofy thought, retrieve the dog treats that the puppy class before us had spread all over the room. If I could only disconnect her olfactory receptors during classes she’d be absolutely perfect. She can smell a sausage at twenty paces and that has the effect of disconnecting her brain. Tricky when You’re trying to do some amazing and complicated obedience work and all the dog’s thinking is ‘FOOOOOD. I smell foooood!!’
The ride home from the class always involves a post mortem of the evening’s events. “I enjoyed that ret….ret…yaaaaaaawwwwwwwn..retrieve exercise.”
“Yeah, it was a chaaa…..yaaaaaaaaawwwn..challenge, wasn’t it.” (Oh my God, it’s making me yawn just writing this!)
At one point we both tried to speak at the same time and yawned instead, dissolving into laughter with all thoughts of what we were about to say forgotten but it was probably something to do with dogs, dog hair, dog poo, dog training, dog food or dog competitions.
Did I mention I don’t actually like dogs? How the hell did I find myself mixed up in all this when I don’t even own a dog?!
I had a look on the internet and discovered that there is a whole industry built around designer dogs.
These days it’s possible to buy yourself a Puggle, (pug and beagle) Shocker, (a Shina Ibu-Cocker Spaniel cross), Pekeapoo (Pekinese and Poodle), Shepadoodle (German Shephard and Poodle), Basschund (Basset and Daschund), Bullmation (Bulldog and Dalmation), Labradinger (Labrador and Springer Spaniel), Porkie (Poodle and Yorkshire Terrier), Weirdie (Bearded Collie and Westie), and Jackadoodle (Jack Russell and Toy Poodle).
Bullmation? Jackadoodle? What’s going on? in my day mixed breed dogs had a generic term – mongrels. Another way of describing them was, ‘mistakes’ or ‘the mother got out when she was in season’.
As is my habit I regularly trawl the Freshly Pressed section of WordPress gnashing my teeth with envy at the bloggers who acheive instant fame as a result of being included there Most of whom certainly deserve it, some of whom just make me go,’Huh?’
Envy is so unattractive, it’s a good job I suit green.
Every now and then I see a Freshly Pressed blog that really pushes all my buttons and The idiocy of the English Language is the latest one. Go and have a look, it’s hilarious.