The Tick Magnet

I'm not sure if it's my warm personality or my cute looks but I'm attracting a great deal of attention at the cabin. I know I'm a popular dog - all the humans tell me I'm adorable - but I never expected this affection to extend to the insect world. 

When I was younger, I attracted a couple of ticks. They latched onto my neck and fed on my blood like little vampires. The humans removed them using special tools and, afterwards, my medication got changed to be harmful to the little critters. It probably had added garlic or something. 

I get one of the chewy tablets every month and it makes my blood poisonous to ticks causing them to drop off and die. So, now I'm protected and full of energy, I figured what the hell: let's go the full Pokeman and try to catch them all. There are loads in the area because of the increase in the deer population over the extended warm months.

Armed with my luxuriously long leg hair and whipping tail, I zoomed around the paths, cutting through the long grass, running under the ferns, bouncing over branches, returning to where I started then began again. The man was in awe of my energetic outbursts not realising my intention. He spoke highly of my liveliness to the woman upon our return.  

I picked up five ticks, not bad for a first effort. The woman was horrified to discover them all. I didn't realise how dangerous the beasties were to humans, carrying the potential to give them Lyme Disease (which has nothing to do with bad fruit because it's spelt with a Y). 

Each of the ticks was extracted from my skin and fur then disposed of. She highlighted to the man that some were not dead yet and warned me not to do it again. She threatened me with pavement walks only. I countered by chewing at her slippers. We compromised with walks down the farm road. I think I won.  

Home safe and de-ticked

Food for Thought

 

At bedtime, when the man leads me into the garden and says "Let's go pee," I've noticed it's never him that's expected to go. The pressure is always on me to perform. I don't think this is fair. He always waits till he's back inside and uses one of their dedicated toilets. I think I should get a special room to conduct my business too, especially now the weather has turned. 

It's supposed to be Septembr-r-r but I've not noticed it getting any colder yet. I'm not keen on the rain but I love that the leaves are turning brown and falling from the trees. I give chase as the wind blows them along the paths then pounce to make sure they're dead. I once caught a spider that way and horrified the woman. She picked it out of my mouth and disposed of the body. She removed most of the legs too but some I kept for snacks. 

I'm always hungry. My diet has improved recently, thanks to a retired nurse whom we met up the Braes. Her Westies were old and grumpy so I spent most of my time lavishing her with attention. After she cuddled me and rubbed my tummy, she went into full examination mode, concerned about my weight. She remarked how she felt being this skinny was unhealthy for a pup, that ribs should not be so pronounced in one so young, and asked if I'd been checked over by a vet. The man reassured her I had been - when I received my jabs - and that they were following the feeding guide on the food bag. She scoffed at this, saying how these guides were not appropriate for every dog - she never used them for any of her cats or dogs -  and we should use common sense at mealtimes. She conceded I seemed happy enough as I ran around showing off my speed and agility. She prescribed me one doggy biscuit to keep me going in the meantime. It was hard and difficult to crunch with my shoogly teeth so it took a while to eat. She and her two dogs walked on ahead. 

Afterwards, when I'd finished snuffling up the last crumbs from the grass, I ran after  her, travelling half a field to ask for more. The man was not amused and neither was she. However, I listened to my recall and returned for a treat from him once I realised she wasn't going to give me any more.

The man discussed his nurse encounter with the woman and now they've agreed to increase the quantity of my feed. A win for common sense and my belly.

Shoogly

"Shoogly" - adjective (SCOTTISH):  unsteady; wobbly.

I love hanging with my pack at the puppy daycare. Now I've gotten over my initial nerves, I love running about with my new buddies. 

I love getting tickles from the staff too. They're all great fun. 

One day, they even brought us in a pensioner to play with.  

When the woman returns to collect me, I never want to go home. Given any opportunity, I run back inside and announce to everyone "I'm back" before being escorted out again. That's how I roll.

I've been missing them this week. I had to stay at home with the woman because she had a cough. It wasn't a bark. I'm a dog, I should know, but it did sound awful. A PCR test confirmed it wasn't Covid which was good but she needed medicine from the doctor. She coughed so much she was sick which was upsetting to both my ears and my nose. I've been sick once and didn't like it, seeing all that food go to waste. She is on the mend now so I've got my paws crossed I'll be back at daycare next week.

I learn so much about life from my pals. Not just the usual stuff like when the big dog's cranky stay away from him but more important things. I discovered it's not rude to sniff another dog's bottom so long as you introduce yourself first and don't lunge. I found out not all dogs are scary and playing can be fun. And I learned Mr Pugglesworth thinks he knows a thing or two.

The three of us (that's me, Winnie the golden Cockapoo and Mr P) were just chilling after lunch and I'd told them how much I love chasing the birds at the Braes. Mr P said that made me a lesbian. I didn't know what that was. Winnie told him to behave and asked me what kind of birds they were. 

"Big, black birds", I replied.

"Ah, they're crows," said Winnie.

Mr P raised an eyebrow. "So you've a type?" 

I could hear him sniggering. I knew him well enough to distinguish that sound from his normal breathing. "It means you're racist," he added.

Winnie was appalled at Mr P. "How can she be racist? She's black too."

Mr P stood up. He did this before every long speech. It made him feel important and brought him up to our eye level when we were lying down. "Just because a dog's black doesn't mean they can't be racist. I once knew a black Alsatian called Moseley and he hated the entire human race with a passion. He was always barking and snapping and spitting saliva whenever they passed by his fence. Course, the first time he acted on his impulses and bit someone, they put him down so maybe he had a point."

"Why did they lift him in the first place if he was being angry?" I asked. I like being lifted. It's a cuddle with a better view.

Winnie switched the subject. "I love the Braes."

"It's a favoured site for doggers," declared Mr P.

"I know. I've met lots of doggy people there," I agreed.

Winnie shot him a scowl. "I'm warning you, Pugglesworth."

"It's true," he said. "Lots of people were caught dogging up there. It's in the papers."

"This is hardly an appropriate conversation for Millie's innocent ears," scolded Winnie. 

I was about to ask what they were talking about when I felt something wrong with my mouth. I knew it couldn't be my lunch because that doesn't stay in there long enough to interfere. Something was loose. I chewed my gums until I worked out the problem then spat it out.

It was a tooth.

20 pence piece for scale

Mr P said, "That's lucky. Put it under your pillow and the dogtooth fairy will leave you a treat."

"I don't have a pillow. The humans only give me a blanket on top of my bed."

"Ah well, then you'll miss out." He noticed Winnie's hackles rise and decided to make the acquaintance of a recent arrival, a puppy Shih Tzu, on the other side of the hall. "Excuse me," he said, "I've a fresh bottom to sniff over there." He left us. 

I was gutted. Not that he'd gone elsewhere but because he'd opened my eyes to my mistreatment. No wonder the SSPCA wouldn't let my humans adopt. By failing to provide me with a pillow, I was missing out on multiple treats (some of my other teeth are now shoogly).  

Maybe Moseley had the right idea to hate humans. 

No... I couldn't live without them. I love their cuddles too much. But that won't stop me whining in the wee, small hours.

"Where are my treats?"