Now that's more like it!

What a fabulous day! I hope this is a sign of things to come.

Dad seems to have come to his senses and left that dreadful collie whippet behind on our run this morning. Not only is he dreadful in general, but when we go out with the bike he turns into the most annoying version of his already annoying self..

Now me, I follow the bikes. If I get ahead (and being the athlete I am I occasionally do) I go to one side and politely wait for them to pass. If I get too far behind (you know, when a sniff just can't be ignored or nature calls) they politely wait for me. It is a mutually beneficial way of behaving and is just the way I like things.

That collie simply cannot contain himself, he has no self control whatsoever. He runs along just in front of the bike, literally tail touching the wheel if he can. He also barks continuously and at deafening volume, and most stupidly of all runs looking over his shoulder back at the bike. Sadly no cavernous hole has opened up just in front of him to fall into yet, but I live in hope. It makes for a very noisy run.

Today was like a dream come true. There was the quiet whirr of the bikes, the call of the buzzards overhead, the gentle chat of biking comrades. And nothing else. Glorious glorious peace.

May you raise a toast to absent collie whippets.

Absent, mind you.

Tripping the tripe fantastic!

I am assured that the vegan cook books are for human use only. Not yet completely reassured, though I was delighted to find that I had tripe for lunch today. Apparently, now I am a super fit slim diggity hound (you would expect nothing less from a triathlete of course) I am allowed this divine treat.

It has, in fact, made me a little thoughtful. You may have noticed I am dedicated to my food. And your food. And anyones really to be honest. I just love it with all of my soul. But I have to admit to feeling really rather sparky these days. I had no winter fat this year, no jiggle on my Richard Gere arse (oh yes, believe me, it's the spit) and I have a higher top speed than ever before which comes in mightily handy when chasing recalcitrant collie whippets who sadly have a smug turn of speed.

Now I haven't in any way lost my adoration of a giant pile of food. I could no more do that than turn into a monkey. But...perhaps I have lost a little of my desperation?

You don't think I'm becoming middle aged do you?

Euch.

A Terrifying Discovery

There are vegan cook books in the house. I am literally shaking in my fur. Not just one, nor even two but three.

Three! It can't be a mistake. It must be a mistake. A moment of madness? Holding them for someone else? Withholding them from someone else? Presumably for their own good. Yes, that must be it. Nothing to do with our family diet. No. That is ludicrous.

What was I thinking to panic.

Don't panic.

Don't.

Please.

Buffet days

So. Buffets. Absolutely smashing opportunities for the acquisition of free food, but also presenting certain challenges.

If you have four paws rather than two feet, the 'help yourself' buffet rule is somewhat different. Don't bother with a plate, it will just get it the way and is anyway difficult to handle without thumbs. Equally, there is no point in queuing in line with everyone else since they are under the impression that the buffet is not for you.

Please don't be put off by this species-ist attitude. You have just as much right to a buffet as people. They just get mixed up sometimes.

The prime times for accessing the buffet are either early, just after the cellophane covers have been removed (actually, if you're not picky about what you eat, just dive in cellophane and all) or late, after the initial rush has calmed down and people have drunk enough alcohol to no longer care what you are doing.

If you have long legs, just jump up and work your way round the dishes on the edge. You should manage to get a taste of everything. If you are not so lanky, like myself, you will have to get imaginative. My favourite access method is an opportunistic one. Look carefully for chairs parked close enough to the table to provide a potential bridgehead. Perfect for getting complete four paw access. Otherwise, pogo sticking up and down in front of the table and using ones nose to dislodge dishes can work really well, because you then get food scattered across the floor and no person is going to bother to stop you then.


A final word of warning. Be stealthy, or be quick. You can survive being found face down in the butter dish, I am living proof of that, but there will be consequences and your buffet time will come to a sad and immediate end.20p

Why I love pub life

1. A shocking number of people don't realise you shouldn't feed other peoples dogs. Excellent.

2. Evening work by parents means they spend at least 8 hours each day in daylight walking us, feeding us and playing with us. Or at least they could and should. Aspirational.

3. Evening work by parents means the sofa is vacant and available all evening long for undisturbed spaniel snoozing. Spot on.

4. Lots of people in and out means attention needy collie whippets are distracted and less likely to be darn annoying. Bonus.

5. Large number of discerning customers think I am wonderful, as indeed I am. Carry on.

The vagaries of women

Here is the scenario.

You are taken to the forest, in fact frog marched to the forest, encouraged to run around, cooed over when you wriggle gloriously on your back in a pile of pine needles, and then rewarded on your return home by a wonderful bowl of food.

Why on earth would you then be reprimanded for decorating the homestead with memorabilia of the wonderful experience you as a family have just shared? I speak of course of the flora and fauna of the forest which, by no deliberate act of myself, becomes attached to my flowing locks and hitchhikes home.

I just don't understand the contradiction.

I certainly don't think it is reasonable behaviour to drag me up onto a table and, whilst muttering in a most negative way, hack off said flowing locks that "harbour dirt and detritus".

Dirt and detritus? These are not words that need to come into contact with my ears.

I am a fitness goD!

Honestly, it's true. I am six and a half years young and have never been fitter. I am lithe, supple and have great stamina. Speed is merely a glossy facade behind which pretend athletes hide (like certain collie whippets, for instance).

In fact, I am now fully signed up to a Triathletes training program! Or at least the canine equivalent, which probably involves more running after than bike than biking itself (I am not stupid enough to run just in front of the bike like He does, barking his head off annoyingly) and perhaps less swimming. Don't get me wrong, I am fond of a bit of a swim, but I'm more of a lazy Sunday afternoon in the sun swim in the river guy than lap after lap type pool swimming. Plus I'm not allowed in many swimming pools. Apparently, they don't like the hair in the filters.

Haven't they ever heard of doggy paddle?

So you can expect training reports on a regular basis and I fully expect that my food intake will be increased according to the extreme level of exercise I am now undertaking.

What's to go wrong eh?