Today... I DESTRUCT

... in which I create some mayhem at the pub

Now, the younger members of my family like to enthuse about the various benefits of drinking liquid made from hops and grapes. I myself have never had a taste for such things (scratchy to eat, and squashy, respectively), but last Friday evening they decided, while the older generation were away in South Korea (a place not for my kind, apparently) to take me to ‘the pub’, a place about which they rave incessantly.

Good times

Naturally at the idea of any kind of outing, I became very excited, so much so that they exchanged concerned glances and utterances of ‘maybe this isn’t such a good idea’, as they watched me leap onto the sofa and chase my own tail in a never ending circle of joy, but as they had a friend with them, one with a very big truck and who is stronger than the pair of them put together, they figured ‘three against one shouldn’t be too bad’. So I hopped into the truck with usual aplomb and of course, secretly set about chewing his wires and large music-box.
We arrived at the place they reverently call ‘the pub’ on a delightful evening, weather wise, although I myself prefer when it’s raining as there are lots of raindrops to chase, and I jumped the not-to-be-scoffed-at-height from the truck immediately, and of course took off at a gallop towards some frightened looking Australians and their small children, who I suspected wanted to be my new best friends but had such assumptions quickly squashed.
This first hurdle over with, I was then quickly put on my lead and escorted not very gently into this pub, even though I was pulling and straining to get through the same door, which was a nice sort of place with lots of wooden floors to be scratched and chair legs to be chewed. There I saw another potential best friend, a small curly dog who greeted me with an equal amount of enthusiasm, knocking his red-faced owner’s glass onto the floor and many apologies followed – I should think so too, clumsy oaf.

My new favourite place

They find this amusing

It was then decided that we should sit outside, as I agreed, it was a very warm evening and we were surrounded by lots of nice fields for me to romp in. No such luck. While two of them took me outside, their friend ordered some drinks and soon they had tied my lead to a table and began to ignore me, if you can imagine, while they sipped this strange-coloured liquid and talked about matters which do not interest me such as newspaper hacking, someone’s wedding (imagine being tied down to just one for the rest of your life – if I hadn’t had my unfortunate trip to the vet, I would be chasing as much tail as I could get. But I mustn’t be bitter, I do have a lot of nice female friends now which was impossible before), and matters which interest me slightly, like football (many an hour I have spent in the past, deflating footballs). They dropped the odd biscuit on the floor for me, to keep me entertained, and of course this worked for about five seconds, as I wolfed them down and put my head, endearingly, on the table, with a clever look I have been perfecting, copied from starving Africans on charity adverts on the television.
 Eventually and to my great excitement, the food arrived – I tracked the waitress with my eyes, as she carried three large plates all the way from the kitchen, up the path, and – to my shock and disgust – placed them not on the floor in front of me, but on the table. My friends of course dug in with relish but I was aghast with indignation – they seemed to have completely forgotten I was there – all I had was a measly bowl of WATER which I soon upended to show my displeasure, and a couple of boring treats. Obviously I put my paws up onto the bench to remind them of my presence, and my head under their arms, but to no avail. Fortunately, I got my revenge for this lack of attention – when one of them had gone in to fetch some more drinks (walking in a very funny manner, I must add) I quickly got my nose into a nice bowl of macaroni cheese, which I have discovered I like very much. By the time she came back, she seemed resigned to the fact that I was there and I needed the rest of the macaroni cheese, my new favourite, and I was allowed to continue eating it, to much head shaking and ‘Oh, Ollie’ being said.

My nemesis

So I can only conclude that my visit to the pub was a great success.In other news, I have been visiting my BFFs Nelly and Tui, and I managed to follow their lead and jump into their swimming pool. We were having a great laugh until we were politely asked to get out.
I’ve been on a few walks, to a new wood that my family have found, which has a great load of cow pats in a field next to it – I will always treasure memories of rubbing my face in these and rolling around in them, and then being marched down to the river to ‘wash off’.
Oh, and I've been chasing the cat around a lot too. I'm sure she enjoys it as much as I do. 

Goodbye SpongeBob

This arrived in the post this morning, and I've had my eye on it ever since.... RESULT

Not such a dog-eat-dog world

No, that's not a picture of me... not yet. But one day. 
This black flat-coated Retriever, Sh Ch Vbos The Kentuckian, or Jet as he is commonly known, beat over 20,000 others dogs to take the top prize at Crufts this year, which sparked much optimism with my owners who started muttering 'there is hope after all'. Given that Sh Ch Vbos The Kentuckian is nine, this means I've got about eight more years before I reach that crowning glory, which leaves me much more time for clowning around, as I do so enjoy.

This weekend I went for a long walk with my buddies, and tried to copy them by leaping head first into every pond we came across, but I just couldn't manage it. I much prefer the slowly-slowly approach of caking myself in every available bit of mud before immersing myself completely in the lovely cold water.
It's good, to be a dog. One thing that sets us apart (one of the many things) is that we are always chipper. Well, most of us. Not sure about Chihuahuas. But we like to stay positive and cheer people up, with our wagging tails and boundless enthusiasm. 
It's been a very sad week for the world, of course. But I saw this story on the news, and it seems to have captured the attention of many in the human world - a Spaniel in Japan stayed with his friend in the aftermath of the tsunami, who was injured, rather than running away, and attracted the attention of rescuers, who saved the dogs. It makes me think of all the millions of poor people, and of course their pets, who have been devastated by these events, so on a serious note, here is the link to the Red Cross, just in case you feel like donating to the cause. There are many other ways to give money of course, but given that I do not have opposable thumbs, trawling the internet is hard at the best of times.

Red Cross:

http://www.redcross.org.uk/japantsunami/?approachcode=68816_googlePAD5JpTs&gclid=CKWZlavn36cCFdFX4Qodij5x9g

And now, to cheer you up, some of my fellow dogs spread a little love and happiness (try and resist - you won't be able to.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmts3jhp8Gk
Have a good week everyone!

Abject failure...

Well dear readers, it saddens me to tell you that I failed my exam last night.
I failed to stay sitting, I failed to walk to heel, I failed to walk through a door behind one of the masters, I failed to stay on command... basically in every area. They seem none too pleased, although if you want to know the truth I think they put too much pressure on me to pass. You could tell from the stony silence in the car on the way home (where I resisted chewing any wires - even I know that rubbing salt into an open wound doesn't have happy consequences), that they were not happy. They were muttering things like 'I blame the cheese treats', 'well I blame the weather - dogs are funny when the weather's funny', 'He's only a year old, very young for the breed'.
So no bronze medal for me, which frankly rankles. Now I am stuck in the beginners class again, even though we all know that my talents, whilst they may not lie in obedience, are clearly superior to Toby the Jack Russell (who passed with flying colours, of course). I was even practicing my barking and growling at nothing all day, to no effect. I blame that haunting poster of Baden Powell as well. He's got a funny look in his eyes.

Still, onwards and upwards. Despite the fact I have to repeat the whole class again, I still see Crufts in my future. In fact I have a very clear image, of trotting around the ring and jumping to command and through hoops, to much applause and praise and sitting on the top step with a puffed out chest and chomping on a gold medal. It's a shame there's no 'dog' category in the upcoming Olympics, really.
I have been compensating for my failure by trying to be extra nice today, licking their faces and bringing them my toys. I think they've forgiven me - one of them is laughing away on the phone about me and how I must have taken something called 'Speed' last night, which is a bit rude but understandable in the circumstances.

Testing times

Well, tonight is the night of my exam.
For those of you interested in my curricular pursuits, this is the website http://www.thekennelclub.org.uk/dogtraining, and under the 'bronze' award is the very long list of achievements I need to pass to make it through to 'silver'. Frankly I think I should have been fast-tracked to gold, myself. Why waste this brain and talent treading water with the mediocre awards when I could be at the top?
Yesterday (1 March) was my first birthday, (same day as Justin Bieber!) and I marked the occasion in the manner I mark all days, with great joy and much enthusiasm. I do think birthdays are overrated, but I'm quite surprised that there was no cake waiting for me. Still, I did get a ball with a rope attached to it which I have now destroyed, so it wasn't all bad.

Naturally I've been practicing hard for my exam, and I know the owners are keen for me to pass. Maybe they get some kind of monetary reward if I do? I feel this exam is akin to the eleven-plus, or even Oxbridge entry, to them. Apparently I need to be able to sit, stay, roll over (fat chance) and be able to walk on a lead without being the boss. Frankly, although I have confidence, I'm concerned about the last one. How can anyone be expected to trot along on a lead when there are so many exciting things for me to chase after? Obviously no-one likes to be catapulted into the air, trailing in my wake, but maybe we could reach a compromise. I also need to be able to stop if I am running away, and cease my love of jumping up at people. Especially old people. Apparently leaping up at someone who has just had a hip operation is unacceptable.
Education aside, what else have I been up to? I had an enjoyable stay in the kennels, where I especially like the heated blankets provided, and today I'm off for a long walk with my BFFs, which I believe is a very transparent ruse to tire me out in the hopes I'll be more compliant this evening if I don't have as much energy, but never mind. Other than that, not much has been happening. I'm still pottering around the office, stealing pens and sometimes drinking their tea when they're not looking, and trying to get a grasp of what this licensing business is all about. No-one seems to have a definitive answer for me, but maybe once I pass my exam then I will be promoted. I might even try and become a brand myself. I don't think there are enough dog-properties out there, frankly. Especially not around a breed of my fine-standing. I wonder if the Queen started to house flat-coated retrievers as well as those silly Corgis, I might get an invitation to the wedding? Maybe not, although I suspect I would get on very well with Prince Phillip. And maybe Fergie.
Anyway, I'm off to chomp on a nice bone now, then a walk, then the exam. Wish me luck... although I suspect I won't need it. One look into these big brown eyes and no-one's going to stamp 'failure' on my sheet!!

Should I not have eaten that?

Well, it's been an eventful week in my life.
Last night I went to my training class, where I have developed an irrational phobia of a poster of Baden Powell (he of Scouting fame), so I try and steer clear of that at all costs. Apparently I am extremely strong now, so naturally I use that to my advantage when I want to go somewhere. Humans are quite a flimsy lot really, always falling over when I tug on the lead or tumbling around when I run up to them and put my paws on their shoulders. Silly.
Anyway, the point of my story is that they want to, at these training classes, make me take an 'exam'. Excellent, I thought, I'm quite looking forward to showing off my oral prowess with my barking skills, or the fact that I can almost reach over the fence when I take a pee. But no. This exam consists of the ritual humiliation of being made to 'sit' and 'stay' in the same position for THIRTY SECONDS. I could handle anything else. I have even learned, lately, to give a 'high-five' to much plaudits from whoever is watching. But apparently they want me to do this 'sitting' and 'staying' business without the aid of treats. I mean really. Who do they think I am? Would you ask a pilot to fly a commercial plane without a co-pilot? Would you ask a brain surgeon to perform procedures without his scalpel-passing team around him? Would you have asked Tony Blair to read a speech not written by Alastair Campbell No, on all accounts. Quite frankly I am going to have a make a stand on this matter. No treats = no passing exam. And that means much embarrassment for the owners when they try to show off how clever I am. I have become quite adept at looking at them with puzzled, unblinking eyes should the occasion arise.

In other news, being an office dog, I ride in the back of the car every day. Well, I used to ride in the back. Now I am put in the boot, and although this is not quite the Mafia-esque situation that it sounds, and it is an estate car, it still means I sit waaaaaay back from where I want to be, which is with my paw on the driver's shoulder and licking the radio. They've even put up bars to stop me leaping onto the back seat and then subsequently their laps whilst driving. So every morning and evening, to entice me into my mode of transport, they have to throw in a treat, and I happily jump up and settle down 'like a good boy'. However, the other day, or as I like to refer to it, 'Black Thursday', there were no treats. Not one. I had to jump into the boot with no encouragements or help whatsoever. Quite frankly I was outraged. They sat in the front oblivious to my annoyance, listening to that ginger idiot on the radio, and I was hungry. Hungry for something. So, I thought, hmmm. I need something to chew. Come on. Anyway, so I spied a loose bit of paneling, which I scratched away at, and delightfully, there were many coloured wires poking out. So for a few days, I've been working my way through these things, which are stronger than they look! And far less tasty than I originally thought, but I am a stickler for seeing things through.
Of course, they soon noticed that something was amiss when the back windscreen wiper started going whenever they unlocked the car, that the reverse light was on when they were going forward and, well, that there was a great big mess of wires hanging out.

Big trouble for me.
But you know, these people are so easily swayed in their opinions. One minute grave irritation at having to put the car in the garage and talk of Battersea Dog's Home, the next, many 'oohs' and 'aahs' when I demonstrate my new high-fiving ability.
They're a funny bunch.