The Mystery of Exploding Dog Beds

Posted on July 28, 2014 by Samantha Rose

Brutus ponders on why his beds ‘explode’

You know when you read the words ‘Indestructible’ and it is in the same sentence as ‘dogs’? Well we dog owners just know that it is all a load of crap and those words are just not compatible in any sentence – ever.

And when you do see a so called ‘Indestructible dog bed’ for sale in the pet shop, it usually comes at a fairly high cost which is fine, but that just means preparing yourself that the bed may last only marginally longer than a ‘normal’ bed but it will however, earn you bragging rights in the dog park that you have lavished such a luxury on your dog. I know this as I have had six of the above mentioned beds and I am still traumatised by the whole event and I can still see the stuffing on my grass.

Lexie had bought her boxer dog Vader one of those ‘chew proof’ beds; it was beautiful and so well made; in fact Brutus was jealous as he wanted one for himself and pestered me for one.

But knowing that Brutus would make a light snack out of it and I don’t even trust him to sleep on the new bed that Cuzz Bro’s Kennels made for him as he has shown a keen interest in the mattress and has made threats to make it explode in the stilly watches of the night.

So Brutus is limited to daytime use of the bed only until he matures and even then he prefers the leather sofa.

The potential for a ‘bed explosion’ is always there!

Anyway, late last night there were some ‘comings and goings’ in the garden, Rocky was barking, Brutus was barking and Vader was barking and it wasn’t the usual ‘dog choir’ that heralds and invisible or real intruder either.

‘What’s going on?’ My husband asked me.

Shrugging my shoulders I peered out of the back door and saw Rocky and Brutus having a heated discussion through the fence.

I shall now tell the story from the dogs point of view as only they know the truth of what happened.

In the garden – late at night

‘Brutus – are you there?’ Vader’s husky ‘boxer voice’ could be heard from his garden.

Brutus was busy sniffing where Rocky had urinated and was squatting like a girl so he could take a piss on top of where Rocky had marked – and yes, Brutus still squats and pees down his own legs.

‘Bad aim lad, bad aim, why not try lifting your leg like a real man?’ Rocky smirked and then showed him how to do it by pissing on Brutus’s head. Brutus loved that, he always presented his head for Rocky to piss on.

Brutus – the master of pissing down his own legs!

‘Brutus! Answer me, are you there? It’s a disaster, I have been thrown out of the house and nobody is talking to me!’ Vader shouted even louder.

Brutus and Rocky both stopped what they were doing and charged up to the fence. Rocky with his hackles up and tail erect, trotted around full of his own importance.

‘What’s up?’ Rocky said in a sharp voice – Rocky is not Vader’s best fan, actually Rocky isn’t a fan of anyone really except for Tess, Gordon and his tennis balls.

Rocky Dog – he is a fan of no-one

‘My bed exploded in the middle of the night and now nobody is talking to me and Mum has sent me outside’ Vader said as he tried hard to control his tongue which was escaping from all gaps in his mouth like the Royal red carpet.

Vader the boxer (and his unfeasibly large tongue)

‘That’s crap man, why did you get the blame? Everyone knows these beds are known to explode’ Brutus said sounding sympathetic.

‘Isn’t that dog abuse?’ Rocky said thoughtfully, he was sure it was. After all everyone knew about the invisible German Shepherd dogs that came to dogs houses and gardens overnight, wrecked them and disappeared into thin air while the pet dogs got the blame.

Vader’s exploding bed!

Vader kept trying to place his tongue back in his mouth like a game of ‘catch’. Devastated at being sent outside, he wondered if the bed had really exploded or could it have been him that chewed his own bed?

He may have nibbled it just a little because the stuffing was so gloriously wonderful to share around, surely that could not be a crime? However, after a few minutes of thought, Vader quickly decided that he had been a victim of his own bed exploding and he would defend his right to innocence and get a lawyer (Brutus) if his Mum wanted to question him on the matter ‘Admit nothing’ was the motto of every dog that had been a victim of this crime.

‘We used to have comfy beds in our kennel’ Rocky said wistfully before adding ‘Until HE (Brutus) ate them all and spread them round the garden like butter’. Rocky glared at Brutus accusingly.

Brutus – one minute he is asleep on his bed

The next minute it has exploded everywhere!

Brutus blushed in response because it was true, but the beds had deserved it, they had mocked him and teased him and it was a case of ‘kill or be killed’ when it came to those beds. Besides, he had done the world a favour by killing them, and the plants and digging the trenches in the garden – that was a ‘war effort’ for sure.

And those plants – they were so naughty!

‘What are you going to do?’ Rocky asked him.

Vader shook his head and flicked drool everywhere; ‘Don’t know, Mum will buy me a new one I expect and I shall see if it is safe to have around and I may or may not kill it again’

Brutus nodded approvingly and said ‘Sounds like a plan’.

Rocky had now tired of the conversation and was herding up the tennis ball and calling it a bastard for rolling away.

‘Boys, come on, stop barking, it’s time to come in!’ I shouted to them and as they thundered down the garden and through the patio door, Brutus was muttering something about ‘being bloody cold out there and could I please put his pyjamas on’.

‘What was all that barking about?’ My husband asked me as I settled the boys down for bed.

‘Not sure but Vader was involved’ I replied and then busied myself in the kitchen to make a hot drink.

‘Rocky?’ Brutus whispered from his bed.

‘Yes Brutus?’ Rocky replied.

‘Will our beds explode in the night and we get into trouble?’ Brutus asked, sounding worried.

Rocky sighed and said ‘Not if you don’t make it explode it won’t’.

‘That’s OK then but sometimes these things just happen and it’s not our fault, I have heard that exploding bed syndrome is a real condition’ Brutus said confidently. (That’s what he believes anyway)

Brutus – Admit to nothing!

‘Mouse Norris said that her bed explodes frequently’ Brutus whispered to Rocky, after all if it happened to Mouse then it could happen to anyone.

Even Mouse Norris was a victim of her bed exploding!

‘Brutus our beds will not explode unless you make them of course’ Rocky said firmly as he snuggled down with his toy gingerbread man that Lexie had bought him for Christmas.

Rocky – trying to sleep with his gingerbread man

‘OK then, I will try not to make them explode’ Brutus replied.

Rocky sighed and shook his head looking a touch sanctimonious about it all – yeah right, many a bed had died in our garden and Rocky himself should not be quite so smug about the subject as one night TWO beds met their demise in our garden and I strongly suspect that Rocky had a ‘paw’ in that incident.

Rocky implicated in TWO exploding beds

But secretly Brutus liked exploding beds and like many dogs, he got quite excited at the site of all that foam and fluff, it was really too much temptation for any dog.

In Vader’s House

‘I am sorry Mum, I don’t know how it happened, don’t be cross with me’ Vader pleaded in his boxer-voice that sounded as though he had a mouth full of cotton wool, except that it was tongue instead.

Vader is very sorry for the bed he DID NOT destroy

Lexie knew she should be cross with him but he looked so cute and he was very sorry indeed and he promised never to do it again if she bought him a nice new bed, which of course she will.

‘I have decided to join Brutus’s Good Boy Club’ Vader said gratefully to Lexie who snorted with laughter because the Brutus Good Boy Club really means the Brutus Bad Boy Club.

Vader and Brutus – members of The Good Boys Club

‘God help us’ Lexie muttered and then started thinking about new beds – preferably ones that did not explode.

Always remember..

So if you ever find your dogs bed has exploded, please explore the thought that it could be the mystery German Shepherd dogs that are active worldwide. They get into people’s houses and gardens, do the damage, dig up gardens, make dog beds explode and they blame your dog.

They are clever like that – just ask Brutus, Rocky and Vader.

The End

Samantha Rose (C) Copyright July 2014

Brutus – if it’s green then eat it!

Posted on July 5, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Brutus Update: (naughty radar 9/10)

It is jolly hard to be angry at something that has the cute factor and that can ‘talk’ in typical hound fashion the way in which Brutus can.

Brutus is now a whopping 23kgs of solid chunk and muscle, he looks mostly ridgeback, except for a rather odd and small kelpie shaped snout and kelpie ears and an uncanny ability to herd everything up including stones. The rest is ridgeback and his head his becoming enormous.

This morning Abdel got up to let the boys out and I got up a bit later as I was too cold to migrate from my bed – one could hang coats off ones nipples in this weather but that is another story.

I had gone out to do a poo run to pick up the man sized turds from the garden and Brutus was doing his usual ‘breakfast dance’ where he bounces in circles and kangaroo hops around the garden in a fine display of hunger.

‘I am so hungry, I haven’t been fed in 12 years!’ Brutus shouted dramatically.

‘Twat, you are only 7 months old yourself’ Rocky shook his head in disbelief and then lit up a fag and blew smoke in funny shapes through his nostrils (the shape of dog).

As I bent down to pick up some dog turd, I noticed something that ordinarily could very easily be missed, in fact I don’t know how I even saw it – but I did and now I have seen it, I cannot ‘un-see’ it.

It was a tiny, oh so tiny, piece of my (expensive) fake lawn – chewed up and shat out in dog turd. Glancing down to see where it had come from, I sighted a tiny, perhaps 2cm area near the join of the grass to the concrete. Honestly, you probably couldn’t see it if you came round to my house, but I have what many dog owners have and that is ‘the gift of puppy eyes’ where you can see the slightest most miniscule difference in objects/places where your puppy may have chewed. This gift of observation also extends to sounds – I can hear what is normal and what is naughty in the way of sounds and usually tell you exactly what they are doing by the noise that is being made.

For instance, if I haven’t fed Gordon by a certain time and I can hear a dragging noise from the kitchen, then it usually means that Gordon is pushing glasses along the counter and I normally have about 3 minutes to feed him or the glass goes on the floor – hence the reason Gordon weighs about 7kgs, because he is fed on demand because if we don’t feed him, the house gets it – or we do.

Anyway, there I am in my work attire staring at this piece of dog shit which is containing tiny pieces of fake lawn and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘What the fuck have you done?’ I demanded to Brutus who was now ‘breakfast dancing’ all over the garden.

‘Told you that you shouldn’t have done it, you are in trouble now’ Rocky said smugly, knowing that he was a good boy but forgetting he did similar at that age and we won’t even discuss about the time that he dug 4 foot under the retainer wall or chewed up the mortgage documents, (he still maintains that the German Shepherds did it).

‘I was told that grass contains roughage and is good for digestion’ Brutus said in his poshest ridgeback voice – he uses his ridgeback voice when he wants to sound assertive and when he herds up stones or bites my ankles then he tends to use his kelpie voice to sound more intelligent. Although the pile of stones outside my door that he has brought to me and spends ages herding up, makes me beg to differ on that score.

‘It’s fake lawn you twattage and it cost a lot of money!’ I told him, he now had the grace to look embarrassed.

My lovely fake lawn!

‘Perhaps if you fed me more often I wouldn’t need to eat the grass!’ Brutus barked back. He was actually ‘talking’ back, you know the way dogs do that funny bark? I think it is a hound thing as my whippet used to do it.

He looked like a large chunky brown turd, with his huge tail wagging in circles like the propeller of a helicopter, his bottom was wriggling and his crumpled mouth that has too much skin around it, caving in around his teeth with each bark, as he tried to justify his chewing of the lawn.

Rocky was shaking his head in disapproval muttering stuff about the puppies of today don’t know that they are born and in his day, all puppies were good dogs that dug nothing and chewed nothing. Gordon sat by the security door smoking a fag shouting the words ‘Bollocks’ and ‘liar’ – it very nearly escalated into a shouting riot of who was the naughtiest or best behaved in ‘their day’ and I am sure that the neighbours didn’t take too kindly to this noise so early in the morning.

‘I can’t believe that you inspected my shit’ Brutus said looking a touch martyred as I continued to pick up the turd from the garden.

‘Can’t you Brutus? Can’t you?’ I snapped, ‘I seem to remember when I took you to the vet when you had kept me up all night with your explosive diarrhoea and I had to take a day off work as I only had one hours sleep and when I cleaned the garden I found several chewed up catkins in your turd’

‘Wasn’t my turd, another dog did it!’ Brutus replied.

‘Oh, and it wasn’t you that produced enough diarrhoea to float a boat I suppose?’ I demanded.

Brutus was blushing now and Rocky was sitting by the shed, smoking his fag and flicking ash on to the grass, rubbing it in and making shapes in the dirt with his paw. Rocky had decided to keep quiet now, as he had shat the bed on a couple of occasions and on the last stomach upset he had suffered, he had even shat in his water bowl which by my own admission, fucking amazed me – I mean that takes skill to do that, even I couldn’t do that if I tried.

‘And what about the time I found red plastic in your poo which I believe, was only last week?’ I said to Brutus.

Stomping back into the house I grabbed the bitter spray that I had bought from City Farmers last week and went back out to the garden with Brutus hotly following me on my heels, nipping my ankles to ‘bring me in’.

‘Ha ha ha ha!’ Rocky yelled and held his belly as he snorted with laughter ‘You are getting the bitter spray treatment!’ The little black kelpie roared his head off.

Rocky the good boy!

‘Now that shit, SO does not work’ Gordon shouted from the laundry room. And he is right, because I used to use bottles of the stuff to stop Gordon chewing towels and carpets and even resorted to using Vics Vapour rub to stop Gordon from chewing. And all that succeeded in doing was making Gordon chew it more, sneeze a bit and then come back to me and say ‘I don’t care, I chewed it anyway!’

Brutus doesnt appear to like the bitter spray but is clever enough to know that the entire garden cannot be covered in it. Still, he followed me and watched me spray the part of the garden that he had attempted to chew.

‘What are you doing? don’t put that on there, it tastes awful!’ Brutus said looking alarmed.

‘There is no need for that, I can piss on it, I can crap on it, why can’t I chew on it?’ He asked (he has a point there I reckon).

Ignoring him, I saturated that part of the grass in the spray and Brutus started to bark and ‘talk’ and ‘breakfast dance’ around me.

‘That won’t work, I will eat the other corner, perhaps we can talk about this – double my food intake and we could be in business!’ Brutus shouted, almost hysterical now. Telling him that I didn’t negotiate with criminals, I refreshed the water bowls while they both followed me to the door to get their breakfast. Rocky went inside first as he is in charge of Brutus and then Brutus followed him, literally trembling at the sight of the bowl of dog chow that sat in his kennel. (I call it dog chow, don’t know what you call it).

‘You will NOT be left unattended in the garden again’ I told Brutus firmly, shut him in his crate. Ignoring me totally, he snarfed down his bowl of food making snorting/piggy noises as he did so.

Telling Abdel about the fake lawn in Brutus’s turd and to keep an eye on him, Gordon who was now on the bed with Abdel, nodded his head and laughed at my feeble efforts to stop Brutus chewing.

‘Mum?’ Gordon asked in his ginger voice.

‘Yes Gordon, hurry up as I have to go to work’ I replied.

‘Can I eat a towel please?, that nice new bright red one in the bathroom’ Gordon asked.

Staring down at the fat ginger cat that was now wedged behind Abdels back on the bed, I tried not to laugh.

Please can I chew the towels Mum?

‘No Gordon, you can’t eat the towels’, and with that, I said goodbye to Abdel as by now, I was late for work. (sounds of Gordon sniggering at my response – he will eat them anyway).

I left the dogs in the laundry room discussing the mornings events, Rocky was trying to chastise him but they were both laughing. ‘Brutus, did it hurt when you crapped out the fake lawn?’ Rocky asked in admiration.

‘Not as much as the plastic bucket did’ Was Brutus’s reply.

I heard nothing after that as I had left the house but believe me, I wonder if children are easier to bring up than dogs – at least they dont eat fake lawn and plastic buckets.

Happy Friday everyone!

Brutus – Storm in an E Cup!

Posted on May 26, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Naughtiness in the form of Rocky and Brutus

We have had full on naughtiness today and quite frankly I am exhausted but never have I laughed so much at my dogs as I have today and I did ladies and gentlemen, have the last laugh.

I bought a duvet from the Salvo’s yesterday for Brutus’s crate – he loves his crate and if he doesnt get his afternoon nap, he gets really pissed off and sits outside waiting to go in to his crate – it is ‘boy-zone’ where he goes to eat, have his bones and have his naps.

Anyway, I had washed the duvet and hung it out on the line to dry and more fool me because it dried yesterday and I was too lazy to bring it in. (you know where I am going with this don’t you!)

Abdel and I went out for breakfast this morning – we were not long at all, no more than an hour as Abdel felt a bit unwell with a headache so we came home quickly.

Rocky was left in the garden as he is the guard dog and Brutus had just had his breakfast and was asleep and our neighbour keeps an eye on our property.

Rocky was pissed off we were going out, I know this as he was yelling obscenities from the fence and threatening to self harm if we went out.

A very nice breakfast was had and when we got back home; I let Brutus out into the garden and it had been ‘snowing’ – yes Rocky had pulled the new duvet off the line and had ‘killed it’ on grounds that we had been to a cafe that was not dog friendly instead of his favourite haunt at South Beach and had left him behind.

Lovely morning walk on the beach after breakfast

I swallowed my pride, admitted it was all my fault and picked up the mess. Brutus and Rocky were whispering behind my back and I heard Rocky briefly say ‘I will show you’ but I took no notice and went back inside. More fool me – again because when dogs whisper behind their owners backs, they are usually up to mischief.

We took the boys out for a nice walk to tire them out, it was very hot and Brutus does not do well in the heat like Rocky does, who just adapts accordingly. Brutus however overheats very quickly and this will no doubt pose a problem in the summer, especially as he hates water so a splash pool won’t be of use to him.

When we got back, both boys were knackered and Brutus went for his nap in his kennel and Rocky went on his bed, both boys given a pigs ear as they get one once a week as a treat.

After 30 mins I let them into the garden and I just knew they were plotting something, what that was I do not know as they were whispering and Gordon wouldn’t tell me either.

Suddenly I heard the sound of pegs falling on the floor and I know that sound very well because Rocky has pulled stuff off the line before. He only does it when he has been for a long swim and I hang his towel on the line. He always pulls the towel off, it isn’t boredom as he has done an hour of swimming – he just likes to pull his own towel off the line. So I know that sound of pegs hitting concrete and I know it well.

I went out into the garden and was met with Brutus walking by with my (large) bra in his mouth, the cup covered his head entirely which means Brutus has an ‘E Cup’ size head! He looked positively thrilled to have that bra in his mouth and managed a sheepish wag of the tail when I saw him.

Brutus with my bra in his mouth – not the shadow of Rocky

Turning round so he couldnt see me, I tried to hide my laughter.

‘Go on Brutus, run!’ Rocky yelled with a mouth full of tennis ball and Brutus ran off with my bra.

I had to take a photo, I just had to – it was too funny. But he was very obedient and when I said ‘Brutus come’, he came back like a good boy and when I said ‘Brutus leave’ – he gave me the bra, but not before Rocky shouted ‘Bastard, I wanted to try that on’.

‘Tranny, lady-boy!’ Gordon shouted from the laundry room.

‘Yeah, and you owe me a bone’ Brutus grinned at Rocky. Bastards, had bet on my bra, the cheeky of it!

Abdel came outside to say goodbye as he had to go to work and we chatted to my neighbour who admired Brutus from over the fence while he bounced exceptionally high in vertical fashion like a bloody kangaroo on springs.

After Abdel had gone to work, I went inside and made a coffee and while I was in the kitchen, I heard it again – peg on concrete.

‘Little bastard’ I muttered and looked through the window to see Brutus joyously running round the garden with my fluffy dressing gown in his mouth, he had found a new game and whilst I could understand if he was never walked nor stimulated mentally, this was done AFTER a long walk, lots of play and toys and a pigs ear! This was a game, his new game and I had to nip that in the bud.

‘Go on, dare ya to take some knickers!’ Rocky yelled from by the fence.

‘Dare you to take some socks!’ Gordon added his part from the laundry room.

‘I dare you to put that back!’ I said firmly and removed the dressing gown from Brutus’s mouth. I almost felt bad as he looked so happy with that dressing gown.

Now in the defence of our dogs, we do expect rather a lot from them. We wear clothes that we put our scent on them, scent that our dogs know is personal to us.

We establish ourselves as their pack leader, we cuddle our dogs wearing our clothes that have our scent.

And then we hang those clothes on the line and expect them to not touch them. Not all dogs do, many don’t but at the moment Brutus is going through a stage where he follows me around, he went through it as a baby and then stopped but each week brings changes with him and since starting puppy school last week, he is a bit insecure but he will gain in confidence again.

It’s just his hormones are having a party and it seems to be a battle with teenage dog Vs baby dog and he is slowly leaving the baby dog in him behind and it’s confusing for him.

Rocky always pulls his swimming towel off the line because he loves the ocean, he loves the smell of the ocean, the sand, the sound of the ocean and everything about it – he cries and shakes when we pull up to South Beach, Rocky loves his towel when it smells of the ocean, so he pulls it off the line – straight after a swim before I have had chance to wash it.

I am sure if I had a swimming pool, I would come home and find Rocky in a pair of budgie smugglers, having a pool party to the local dogs of my suburb as he loves his swimming so very much.

Rocky loves swimming in the ocean and can swim for ages without touching ground

So sometimes, dogs get confused – Brutus likes to bring me my shoes or just cuddle up to them. Gordon likes my dressing gown, well they (the animals) all love that bloody dressing gown.

Anyway, I saved my dressing gown from Brutus and decided that enough was enough, this was war!

Carefully filling up a rubbish sack with a pint of water, I hid Brutus so that he couldnt see what I was doing and I carefully tied the bag on the washing line and then let Brutus out and I hid in the laundry room.

‘What is it?’ Brutus asked as he glanced up at the bag of water.

‘Pair of knickers for a fat girl?’ Rocky said looking confused.

‘Giant testicle?’ Brutus suggested thoughtfully, was it his testicle, surely not, the vet disposed of his months ago and his testicles were like peanuts – but we won’t talk about that as Brutus finds it shameful.

‘Bag of cat shit’ Gordon muttered from the window.

‘Get it, dare you’ Brutus said to Rocky.

‘Bollocks, I am not touching it, you do it’ Rocky told Brutus.

Brutus looked around to see where I was and then did his kangaroo jump and grabbed the bag of water.

Sniggering in anticipation, I thought ‘that will teach you for taking my stuff’.

(sounds of water splashing)

‘Fuck me, what was that!!!!!’ Rocky shouted – he truly looked horrified and ran to the back of the garden and hid by the shed, gingerly sneaking a look at the clothes line as though God himself had appeared and pissed holy urine on the ground – and on Brutus.

‘Bollocks!’ Brutus shouted and looked up at the clothes line and then looked at Rocky, both dogs stared at each other and kept looking up at the clothes line. (seriously!!!)

As for me, I was pissing myself in the laundry room with Gordon, who was wiping his ginger eyes as he cried with laughter.

‘I saw that coming, can’t believe you didn’t!’ Gordon laughed and lit up a cigarette and blew smoke from the side of his mouth as he laughed.

‘Fuck me, God has just pissed on me!’ Brutus shouted and then went to the back door where he stood and looked through the fly screen with water dripping over his back and head.

Where the fuck did that water come from?

Deciding that I had won the ‘war of the bras’, I let the boys in and had to dry Brutus off.

‘Sod off, I am not coming anywhere near that clothes line, why has that not happened before – I need to speak to my lawyer’ Rocky said, embarrassed at being so scared, especially as Gordon was still laughing his ginger arse off.

Brutus looked bloody hilarious dripping with water and initially wouldnt come in as he was still staring at the clothes line.

A confused Brutus

I never told them what I did, I couldn’t – but what was even more funny was after their tea tonight, I let them out into the garden and they skirted round the washing line avoiding it as though it were infected, both looked up accusingly, wracking their brains as to how it pissed water over Brutus’s head. The washing line for now is officially ‘the enemy’.

(Rocky and Brutus in the garden chatting)

‘Well I am buggered if I know what happened but I don’t think I will be stealing bras again’ Brutus said.

‘I am 5 years old and I have never seen such things’ Rocky replied.

(Back in the house…)

‘Double my portions or I tell them the truth’ Gordon said from the dining room table.

I turned round and that little bastard was admiring his nails while giving me the sideways glance.

‘What did you say?’ I asked him.

‘You heard, double my food portions or I tell them it was you that did the water bag’. Gordon said firmly.

‘I will not be bribed by a 7kg talking cat’ I laughed.

‘Rocky, I have something to tell you about the water incident’ Gordon yelled in his loudest ginger voice ever.

‘What’s that!’ Rocky demanded, he and Brutus still hadn’t got to the bottom of it and I didn’t want them to because that was my trump card to stop the future theft of my bras.

‘Ok, OK, I’ll do it!’ I hissed to Gordon who smiled and whispered back ‘Good, of course you will’.

‘What is it Gordon?’ Rocky demanded impatiently.

‘It was bloody funny, that’s what’ Gordon said laughing at Rocky.

‘Wanker’ Rocky muttered under his breath and went back to discuss with Brutus about God and his apparent incontinence issues and his ability to soak people from a washing line.

Gordon looked up at me, there were no words needed – all that was said was what needed to be said.

‘More Snappy Tom Gordon?’ I asked him – feeling a bit pissed off and more than a little blackmailed, or ‘gingermailed’ I should say.

‘Snappy Tom would be lovely and while you are there, could you top up my biscuit’ Gordon replied.

‘Gingermailed (blackmailed) by Gordon

To which I did quite promptly because trust me, this has to be my secret and besides, my bras are from the UK and they need protecting.

They are not cheap either.

Happy Sunday everyone!

Samantha Rose (C) Copyright May 2013

Brutus goes to puppy school

Posted on May 18, 2013 by Samantha Rose

THE NIGHT BEFORE SCHOOL

Brutus – looking forward to puppy school!

‘I can’t find my school bag, Mum, where is my school bag?’ Brutus shrieked in a panic.

Rocky was lying on his bed rolling his eyes at Gordon, he could afford to be confident you see as he had done puppy school himself back in 2010, although he started it later than Brutus, much later in fact and was one of the oldest dogs there but he still did his time, excluding the fact he missed two lessons due to his hip dysplasia.

Gordon was on his favourite chair smoking a rolled up catnip cigarette and blowing smoke from his nostrils – it came out in strange shapes and that never fails to amuse me.

‘Don’t forget to do a turd by the big tree where all the dogs meet and if you sniff round all the bags, you might find something tasty’ Rocky said, Gordon sniggered as he exhaled on his fag and then flicked ash on to the chair and rubbed it in with his paw, making it go all grey.

Rocky and Gordon tease Brutus about school

‘Do a crap by the tree? But I always crap in the garden at home?’ Brutus said, looking a touch anxious.

‘Right, that is your bag packed for tomorrow – vaccination certificate, your homework sheets, I have researched about your breeding – Rhodesian Ridgeback and of course I know about kelpies, a water bowl, bottle of water, poo bags and your breakfast puppy meal allocation for treats and rewards’ I said firmly and then added ‘And no, you do not take a shit by the tree or steal food from other dogs school bags’. Glaring at Rocky as I said it.

I had planned to buy tasty meaty treats for Brutus tomorrow but the vet said due to Brutus being prone to colitis, he has to stick rigidly to his own diet and a measured amount of it and so far, it seems to be working.

Actually talking of vets, Brutus and Rocky were at the vet tonight, Rocky had his hip injection and Brutus came along for the ride. Rocky adores going to our vet and dragged me across the car park so he could say hello to his nurses and the vet, Brutus decided that he too liked going to the vet and assisted in helping Rocky drag me to the door.

‘You are a bit keen aren’t you?’ A chunky chocolate Labrador shouted as he waited by the gate.

‘Cuddles from the nurses’ Rocky replied simply and told Brutus to get a move on.

The Labrador nodded in recognition but then told Rocky that he hoped it was worth it because he had just had a finger up his arse to empty his anal glands and even the liver treats afterwards were a poor consolation prize although being a Labrador, there was very little if anything that he wouldn’t eat – anal glands or not.

‘Hi girls, I am here, how have you been – it’s been too long, you never phone, we never catch up!’ Rocky said in a breathless voice as he greeted his favourite nurse. Checking him in at reception, I took both the boys to the scales where Rocky weighed in at 20.7kgs – he had lost a bit of weight but the vet said he is in rude health. He has also gained muscle tone and condition overall due to the fact he is constantly playing with Brutus.

Brutus surprised me, he didn’t weigh nearly as much as I had thought, 17.7kgs, I thought he was at least 20kgs, but the vet assured me that he is the perfect weight. So I guess I was making him fat before as I wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to weigh, still I/We are on a learning curve.

Rocky had his hip injection and Brutus had a check over and the vet said Brutus has a lovely temperament and is so trusting, Rocky had already advised Brutus which nurses to flirt with and how to wash the vets neck and Brutus now agrees with Rocky that the vets is a very nice place to be indeed – until you get a finger up your arse of course which Rocky does frequently and the look on his face is priceless because I swear that he blushes.

Rocky claims he needs counselling for dog abuse each time he has his anal glands emptying and Gordon didn’t help by buying him the ‘Brokeback Mountain’ DVD but that is another story and a rather adult one at that.

Anyway, back to tonight – everything is packed and I had just put the dogs to bed, telling Brutus that he had to get some sleep as we have to be at puppy group for 9am.

‘Don’t forget to write a note with ‘turd legs’ and stick it on the teachers back’ Rocky said to Brutus.

(sniggering from Gordon)

‘Mum’ Brutus shouted while I was in the kitchen.

‘Yes Brutus’ I replied

‘Will they teach me how to be a good boy, Rocky said that is impossible’

‘You are already a good boy Brutus, they will just teach you other nice and fun stuff’ I reassured him. I could just see the black tufts above his eyes as he snuggled down into his crate – he looked so cute.

Puppy dreams!

‘They are going to steal your anal glands’ Gordon shouted from the dining area.

‘Mum, are they going to steal my anal glands’ Brutus cried.

(Rocky snorting with laughter)

‘No Brutus, they won’t go near your anal glands’ I told him.

‘Mum, will the other dogs bash me up?’ Brutus asked – god he was being persistent.

‘No Brutus, they won’t bash you up, you will make friends, learn manners and get treats for doing it’ I told him.

‘Mum’ Brutus said in a quiet voice.

‘Yes Brutus’ I said while making a drink.

‘Is my bag packed’ The little dog asked desperately.

‘Yes Brutus, your bag is packed’.

‘Brutus’ Rocky said in a tired voice.

‘Yes Rocky’ Brutus lifted his head up and looked at Rocky who was snuggled up on his bed.

‘Shut the fuck up’ Rocky laughed and winked affectionately at the fractious puppy.

‘Goodnight Mum’ Brutus yelled and put his head down.

‘Night Brutus’ I replied to him.

‘Night Mum’ Rocky said – that was unusual for him, he normally crashes and falls asleep at night.

‘Night Rocky’ I laughed.

‘Goodnight Gordon’ Brutus shouted to the fat ginger Tom on who was now sitting on the dining room table.

‘What are we, the fucking Waltons?’ Gordon piped up.

‘Language Gordon, language’ I burst out laughing – honestly it was so funny, you should have been there – Gordon swears in a ginger voice and if you don’t know what I mean by that and you have a ginger cat, go and piss him off and you will find out for yourself that all cats have their own voices, especially gingers.

And that my dears, is that – it is now 12.35am, I really ought to get to sleep as I have a rather over excited pup to take to dog school.

Have a nice weekend everyone.

Samantha Rose (C) Copyright May 2013

It’s Raining Cats and Dogs! – (warning contains bad language and talking animals!)

Posted on May 16, 2013 by Samantha Rose

THE STORM

We are currently as I type, starting a thunder storm – lightening is lighting up my pathway, deep rumbles of thunder can be heard despite the TV being loud and Rocky who is trying so hard to prove himself as head man over Brutus, has been reduced to a quivering wreck and as I can’t afford a thunder jacket for him, I am trying to find alternative ways like singing stupid songs to my animals (yes really).

Brutus is looking perplexed and confused by the loud clap of thunder we have just had, but even more offended by me singing ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’, Rocky didn’t care and was shaking the shit out of himself by my feet and Gordon just told me to piss right off with that noise and that he preferred the sound of thunder.

Nothing phases Gordon

‘Jesus Christ on a bike, we are all going to die, save yourselves and your kittens’ Rocky shrieked in a high pitched voice as I tried to eat my apple.

Deciding that I had to share my apple with Rocky as he loves apples, I bit off a piece ‘one for you, and one for me’ I told him.

‘What about me?’ Brutus shouted, oh god, it meant giving the Diarrhoea Brother a new food and trying him on a piece of apple and praying he didnt crap the bed later.

(lightening followed by loud clap of thunder)

‘Bugger me, that is awful!’ Brutus screamed loudly and looked at the ceiling as though it had assaulted him.

‘And some apple for Brutus’ I said in a happy voice – bloody hell, I could feel Rocky shaking.

‘You two are nothing but a pair of girls, you want loud? You wanna be in the hold of a Qantas jet like I was when I flew here from London’ Gordon said smugly and lit up a cigarette – bastard, he knows he can’t smoke in the house.

‘Brutus, we need to build an air raid shelter – get the supplies in before the rains come and we can sing war songs’ Rocky said literally sobbing, yet trying to remain all ‘alpha’.

‘Bollocks to this, this cannot be normal’ Brutus shouted – his little head creased with concern at the noise – which was probably more from me singing the second verse of the song.

Brutus is not amused with the thunder

‘We are all going to die!’ Rocky cried.

‘Fuck me, I have only just got my big dog teeth through and I haven’t had a chance to use them’ Sobbed Brutus, totally wound up by Rocky while I just simply stopped singing and turned up the TV and ignored them.

‘Don’t you care?’ Brutus shouted and then added ‘You will when we run out of puppy meal and we all starve to death and have to eat bones from the garden’

‘You don’t half talk shit Brutus’ Gordon sighed and then flashed him his bum, knowing that Brutus likes to clean it of an evening. Brutus however was not interested in this fine display of feline ginger bottom.

Gordon tells Brutus all kinds of horror stories about thunder

‘Damn it, I am dead – I have been shot by God from the skies, I am sure I have’ Rocky whimpered and then superglued himself to my feet by the table while checking his belly for gunshot wounds by God.

By now I am swigging my tea (nice cup of Yorkshire tea with one sugar) and watching some animation film on 7Two, while waiting for my crime series to start, when I could hear the sounds of the heavens opening.

‘God is taking a pee!’ Gordon yelled happily, he was so excited – he loves watching storms from the window.

Brutus looked horrified and then looked up at me and said ‘I don’t want God peeing on my head’

‘Brutus, it’s rain – just ignore Gordon, he is teasing you’ I told him firmly.

‘Oh my god, build Noahs Arc, we are going to die – go and get the Zebra!’ Rocky cried noisily from beneath my feet.

Gordon was snorting with laughter at the commotion and then went into the story of how he played Poker with some zoo animals in the hold of the plane from London to Singapore – how true that is I don’t know as I only have Gordon’s word for it, still, it makes for a nice story.

(sounds of farting and smells of shit)

‘Who did that?’ Gordon spluttered from the sofa, and put his ginger paw over his nose and started making choking noises while trying to comfort Brutus.

Gordon and Brutus discuss Rocky’s wind problem

‘Sorry, it’s my stomach, my nerves have kicked in – are we dead yet?’ Rocky replied.

‘I didn’t know I was dead, Mum – tell him, am I dead? Please tell me I am not dead!” Brutus yelped as the thunder rattled.

‘Will you all stop it now! Brutus, Rocky is talking shit, Rocky – stop talking shit and stop smelling of shit, you are not dead and Gordon stop stirring shit!’ Honestly, it was like dealing with children.

‘Oh that’s it, I am going!’ Gordon made vomiting sounds as he gagged, and even Rocky blushed at his own wind.

‘Ooops, I think it may have been my heartworm chew coupled up with my nerves and the thunder’ Rocky replied going red at his own smell.

Rocky admits his wind problem and puts it down to nerves

‘Fuck me you stink Rocky, go to the toilet now!’ Gordon shouted from the safety of his bedroom.

Even Brutus looked mortified and disgusted at the smells that came from his brothers arse ‘You do Rocky, you smell of bad stomach’.

‘Will you all be quiet and calm down – it is only a thunder storm and it will be over shortly’ (I said hopefully).

(sounds of silence)

‘Mum?’ Brutus asked.

Taking another mouthful of my nearly cold tea, I replied ‘Yes Brutus?’

Brutus stared at me with his cute little pinhead (he has a pinhead) ‘Do you fart when you are scared?’

(sounds of Gordon laughing from the spare room)

Rocky looked up and forgot his fear for a bit and sniggered.

Oh dear god, Dogs ask the most embarrassing of questions don’t they?

‘Yes Brutus but mine smell of roses’. I told him.

‘Awesome’ Brutus said and put his head down in his basket.

‘You are so going to hell for that lie’ Rocky whispered to me as he lay in his basket, he knew the truth.

Rocky knows the truth…

And all you could hear after that were the sounds of Gordon gulping with laughter from his bedroom.

Gordon found the whole episode hilarious!

Now I shall finish my tea and as it has gone cold, I shall be a devil and make another one and hopefully this time I will get to drink it in peace.

Samantha Rose (C) Copyright May 2013

Owning a pet – the good, the bad and the heartbreaking

Posted on April 12, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Some of the animals of the past

‘I am never having another dog again’ I sobbed – at the tender age of 23, my heart had been broken when my greyhound called Caesar had peacefully died in his sleep – an ending most of us could wish for when it comes to our pets.

Fast forward to 2007 – I am holding my beautiful blue whippet bitch, 12 years old with kidney failure – her time had come to let her go and suddenly every single memory I had of her was flashing in front of my eyes as the vet who is my friend and ex employer, gently injected her with the lethal injection and that tiny blue bitch that at one point seemed so enormous in character, literally shrunk before my eyes.

I will never forget seeing her looking so tiny on that table after she was euthanized. Funny how you can have a dog with big character and/or big in stature/appearance, become so tiny and little once they have been put to sleep. This really does confirm my thoughts that the spirit and character of your pet merely lives in the body and it is not really the body that we love – but the personality of the animal because once they are gone, you could get an identical breed, but at the end of the day, it just wont be the same. All pets have their own personality that makes us love them – end of.

‘That is it! I am never ever doing that again’ I sobbed to my friend Norma, who drove me home clutching Rema’s toys and blankets that still smelt of her.

And yet again, here I am with my kelpie Rocky and my newly acquired Kelpie mix Brutus whom as you all know, we nearly lost due to severe gastro.

So why do we do it? Why do we get an animal that we know will worm its way into our hearts, spend our money on various vet fees – knowing that we will end up going without essentials for ourselves in order to get them their treatment (as it should be).

Why do we get so attached to our pets that we sob and cry and feel a gap so large once they have died, that we can never envisage it ever being filled again? We are mad, we are gluttons for punishment and pain.

So what are the benefits of pet ownership? I would say the memories that they give you and that you build together. My memories of my greyhound Caesar taking a shit up a shop window one day, he had diarrhoea and trust me, it looked as though someone had spray painted the shop window with turd. This is going back almost 30 years when I first got him when I was 16 years old, in the days when it was safe to tie your dog up outside a shop without fear of it being stolen.

Well Caesar shamed himself and splattered the window with turd and the shop owner came out and told me off and I did what Brutus does when he has been naughty and denied it and said ‘It wasn’t my dog who did that’ Which of course could have been plausible had it not been for Caesar still trying to empty the rest of his stomach and was leaving drops of turd over the pavement. Being a kid, I ran off with my greyhound in hot pursuit, as fast as my skinny legs would carry me away from the faecal mountain – much to the horror of the shop owner.

Then there was the time Caesar jumped into someones garden, he was an ex racer and built like a gazelle and he would dig up cabbages, only cabbages mind you but he would dig them all up and look absurdly pleased with himself, jump back over the fence and come home.

Then there were my cats Bruno and Juniper who on one occasion stole 3 trout that had been defrosting for our tea, and they had eaten everything except one trout head and when I got home from work I was greeted with the strong smell of fish along with an empty wrapper and two very bloated and sick looking cats.

Bruno and Juniper also shredded their share of sofas and carpets, in fact Bruno used to eat carpets and had seen a vet on many an occasion due to vomiting.

Juniper had a liking for pulling apart our venetian blinds and would completely dismantle them and find herself stuck on the sash window crying. I would get off the bus and see her stuck on the window, with her pink mouth opening and closing, frantically denying all involvement and claiming that someone put her there and it wasn’t her fault at all.

There was another time when we moved house in Devon, that Juniper got her head stuck in the ‘S’ bend of the sink and it took my mate Veronica several goes to get her out and some phenobarbitone from the vet (our boss) to calm her down afterwards (the cat not Veronica!).

Bruno also broke into a box of mince pies and scoffed most of them and he also had a bad habit of breaking in to 20kg sacks of dog food where he would emerge looking like a Bovril stock cube because he would be covered in gravy dust from the bag. I think that he had a bit of an eating disorder to be honest and I fondly remember him for his food theft and robbery of chicken bones from your plate.

In London, Juniper would enjoy digging up the sofa and would love to dig before she lay down. She was diagnosed as ‘retarded’ by the vet at the Royal Veterinary College where I worked at the time and would actually ‘get lost’ in our flat and if she wondered downstairs, would cry and look at the ceiling with a vacant expression and one of us would have to go down and ‘save her’ and bring her back and convince her that she was safe and her family loved her. Her nickname later became ‘Family’ as if we said it in a high pitched voice she would get quite excited and appear absurdly happy about that word and found it reassuring.

Sadly both cats died within 18 months of each other due to pancreatic cancer which we suspect was down to a vaccine that they both had at the same time when we lived in Devon but that was never proven, suspected but not proven.

I was totally devastated – Bruno was put to sleep whilst still on the operating table and I wasn’t there for that but Juniper was brought out of theatre and wrapped in a blanket and and I held her tiny body as she was injected.

I remember seeing her tortie body which reminded me of a patchwork quilt, her fur so soft, I stroked her and held her as she went and always remember saying ‘thank you for being my cat’ as she died in my arms and I also remember the vet nurses Sarah and Wendy being there at the time and Sarah driving me home as I clutched Junipers cat basket (thank you girls and thank you to Sarah for driving me home that day). Talking of baskets, there is a term called ’empty basket syndrome’ and this is where you go to the vet with a cat and leave with an empty basket and is the most devastating thing for a cat owner to go through.

As for my whippet Rema – now she was a well traveled dog. In England, dogs can go on public transport with you, I used to bring her to work with me when I worked at the Royal Veterinary College in Camden and Rema knew the time of the train to Marylebone and even the platform from Marylebone to our station, she would always know which side the doors of the train would open.

Gordon the cat and Rema the whippet discuss naughty tactics

Rema loved the tube and would jump into my arms to be carried up the escalator and when we got off the tube at Marylebone, she would run and almost drag me to the escalator as she had learned that is what people do – run from one train to the next.

There were times where I would be drunk on a Friday night after a night out round my friends house (Our Maria) and I would have Rema with me, looking all nice, blue and dainty (she was a blue whippet), wearing her muzzle as she used to bite, and I would be pissed out of my head at the platform and Rema would protectively wait with me and not let anyone near me. You could almost see her looking apologetic to other passengers as if to say ‘I am sorry, but she got herself into this state’ And that little dog would escort me home. If there is anyone reading this from London that used the Marylebone line that remembers the blue whippet bitch wearing her jacket and muzzle back in 2005-6, well she was my girl.

When I studied for my NCTJ Preliminary Journalist exams in Islington, I sometimes even took Rema to college with me and she would sit in the boss’s office – I think she actually quite liked him (remember that Steve?) In fact the more places I took that little whippet, the more traveling she did, the happier she seemed.

We bought Rema when we lived in Devon and then moved to London and when I used to go back to visit my friend Veronica in Torquay, Rema would sit on my knee for the three hour train journey. She also loved going up on the train to Chesterfield to see ‘Our Maria’. Rema really should have had her own travel card I reckon.

‘Hannibal Rema’ in her muzzle. Too pretty to bite – well don’t judge a book by it’s cover

When I failed my first year vet nursing exams, after work we all went to the pub and got pissed (you can see a pattern here!) and I tried to sneak Rema in as a ‘hearing dog for the deaf’ and for a while it worked, as she was hidden under the table but we got sussed out and kicked out. I turned up home in a drunken misery a few hours later and Abdel opened the door to find me standing there with Rema who had no muzzle or leash on. Rema looked embarrassed and said to Abdel ‘I tried to stop her, honest I did’ and shook her head in disbelief while Abdel led me upstairs and put me to bed whilst I cried about failing my exams. Rema snuggled up to me that night and never left my side which was brave of her as my breath reeked of alcohol.

My boss Trevor or ‘TT’ as he was known – and me as a student veterinary nurse

Rema was also there when I passed my vet nurse finals and lay on the bed with me as I cried, I cried because it had been so hard and I had failed both part one (written) and part two (practical) first time so the relief of passing my exams was immense.

Abdel and me at my graduation – finally qualifying as a Veterinary Nurse

(my proudest moment – I love my VN badge!)

Rema had earned a nickname called ‘The Goat’ as she found a goat on Torre Abbey Sands in Torquay, Devon and proceeded to chase it round the beach and nip it on any part she could reach – blaming the owners saying it was their fault for having a goat on the beach.

My little whippet used to enter Exemption dog shows and do very well in them and I also entered her in scurry races as well and she would bark her head off in excitement as she raced – she loved it and had a good circle of doggy friends on the show circuit.

When I worked as a vet nurse at Crufts Dog show one year, Rema came with me and had her own bed in the Hilton Hotel, my friend ‘Our Maria’ was with me that night, I remember it well as she got chicken pox (do you remember that Maria!). Rema looked so funny snuggled up in her own bed, and she had her own cage in the vet centre when I was working and would tell the show dogs off by barking at them when they came in.

One day I remember when I was out with my friend Sam Porter and her boxer dog ‘Bags’, Rema chased a squirrel and broke her hock and had to have surgery. If you could see the xrays, it must have been like repairing the leg of a fawn as Rema’s legs were like matchsticks but the vet did a superb job on that (thank you Trevor xx).

On another night, Sam and I dressed up our dogs, Rema wore my bra and knickers and Bags wore boxer shorts (don’t ask!) and we drew big red Bindi’s on their foreheads and went out collecting for the Big Issue. But we won’t say any more on that as there is no excuse for dressing a dog up in a bra any more than there is collecting for the Big Issue when you have no business to.

I had entered Rema in a contest for Dogs Today magazine – this was for 2000 – the Millennium Calendar – ‘best advert for dog ownership’ and Rema won it, she was Ms February and posed on a pink silk love heart cushion and even appeared on London Tonight (any of my London pals remember that or have a copy of the photo I could have?)

Rema was also a chewer and enjoyed chewing Abdel’s trousers, the curtains and other bits and pieces.

Rema and Gordon – both ‘chewers’ in fact Gordon still is!

Animals of the present

Gordon the cat chews towels and still does so, despite being a respectable old gentleman of 11 years old.

Gordon is my piece of England, he is from the Motherland – having just lost my Mum, I was in no way prepared to lose my Gordon so I went to extreme lengths to raise the funds by writing a blog and also doing writing for people, so that I could pay for his passage to Australia.

He was naughty in quarantine and chewed the carpet on his cat run and has continued his chewing in Australia.

Gordon in quarantine – he chewed the carpet on the ladder

Rocky has dug 4 feet under the retainer wall, eaten my mortgage settlement documents the day we moved into the house, he has stolen cushions and eaten my entire CD collection and chewed a rare one of a kind, hand made artists bear made out of alpaca wool.

Brutus is following in hot pursuit in terms of naughtiness, he gathers stones and brings them to the door, chews our shoes and is planning what his next line of attack will be in the form of chewing. He is also learning from Rocky on how to be a proficient digger to the point I am thinking of hiring out the pair of them for bobcat purposes.

The new ‘canine bobcat’ – Rocky and Brutus ‘dig for Britain’

So I shall ask again – why do we do it? They chew our stuff, they demand our time, they cause us worry and they cost us money, so why do we pay for the privilege of the above?

Because quite simply, they provide us with love and they provide us with memories – all of the memories that my animals have given me have and still do make me laugh.

Animals stand by us when we make crap decisions, when we are in a bad mood, when we think that the rest of the world hates us, when we dont want to communicate – our pets are always there for us.

One man (girl) and his dog

They don’t care if we embarrass them and trust me, I have embarrassed Rocky in public on many an occasion. I have dived in when he has been attacked by another dog and yelled, screamed and threw a punch at the dog attacking him when Rocky couldn’t defend himself.

At the end of the day the stuff that they chew is just that – stuff and more to the point it can be replaced. ‘Stuff’ cannot give you the memories that an animal can give you.

I was there for Rema when she was put to sleep and I promise I will be there for Gordon, Rocky and Brutus when their time comes.

I know it is painful, I know I will be the sobbing wreck that I vowed never to become again but I want the only person to be holding my pets when they leave this life – to be me.

So never ever regret having your pets, and never let the pain of losing them stop you from embracing another animal into your life.

You may think that by getting another pet, you are ‘replacing’ the one that you have lost. Well you are not, in your life there are in fact many places – unlimited places for animals waiting to be loved and the new pet is not replacing the old one, just merely making a new place for himself.

And the spirit of all your animals will live on in the sofa, the chairs, your shoes and whatever else they may have chewed.

Gordon – from the ‘Motherland’ still chewing his way around the world

That my friends, is why we do it.

Happy Friday.

Brutus and his trip to the vet

Posted on April 6, 2013 by Samantha Rose

This morning I took Brutus to our local vet to have his stitches removed and to say that Rocky was devastated that he wasn’t going, is an understatement.

‘Where are you taking him?’ Rocky demanded, his ears and tail erect, and his body language showed that he was pissed off.

‘To the vet to get his stitches removed’ I said firmly and clipped Brutus’s leash onto his blue collar. His little brown body wriggled as he was so excited.

‘Bastard, why does he get to go and I don’t, can I have my stitches removed too?’ Rocky asked, looking really jealous now.

‘Rocky you are such a dick head, you don’t have stitches!’ Gordon sniggered from the safety of the dining room table. Rocky flipped him the bird and stuck his tongue out back at Gordon.

‘Yeah, but they don’t know that’ Rocky replied. In the end he became so upset because he wasn’t going that I had to shut him up in the laundry room to calm down.

And as for the language that came out of that kelpie dogs mouth as I put Brutus in the Yaris and secured him to the seat belt in the back, well that was truly shocking and the last word I heard from Rocky’s mouth was ‘wanker’.

We got to the vets a bit early and had to wait outside which was fun with a partially leash trained pup who was thoroughly over excited and trying to herd up birds and stones – adopting the ‘cattle dog crouch’ when they go down to herd.

‘Brutus, you can’t herd up stones, they are not going anywhere’ I laughed at him.

‘But they might be, you never know’ was all he replied and then tried circling the stones to make sure.

A car pulled up in the driveway and I could just make out the head of a small white fluffy dog in the front seat next to his owner.

‘Puggles, come on get down’ An elderly man got out and spoke to his dog.

‘Piss off, I am not jumping that height, are you trying to break my cruciate ligament or something?’ the white dog snapped and then glanced in the mirror to smooth down his beard and make himself look presentable.

It was a tense stand off and Brutus looked interested in the stubborn white fluffy thing that resembled a sheep, that refused to jump down from the SUV.

I will in his favour say that I don’t blame him because many injuries can be caused from dogs jumping in/out of cars and Brutus is terrified to jump in/out of my car so I always help him.

Puggles the white dog (or sheep according to Brutus) was eventually lifted down and you could hear him bossing his owner around and saying things like ‘watch my stitches’ and ‘don’t mess with my fur’.

Brutus looked enchanted at the dog (sheep) and looked up at me and said ‘Is that a sheep, can I herd him?’ which made me laugh. Brutus may be a kelpie/ridgeback but he is 95% kelpie in behaviour and looks so cute when he adopts the herding position.

Fuggles walked up to Brutus and promptly pissed on a pile of polished pebbles, he lifted his little leg as high as it would go and strong yellow urine dribbled down his pristine white coat.

‘How did you do that?’ Brutus asked him in admiration. Brutus is still at the squatting stage and when he did try and lift his leg to copy Rocky, he fell over. Mind you, Rocky didn’t cock his leg until he was two years old – and I am not kidding you either, very late developer. In fact Rocky barely has a penis, it is more like a mealworm.

‘Puggles has been de-sexed, he is here to have his stitches out’ The owner said to me and then shook his head as Puggles tried to dig up the concrete floor with his hind legs to ‘spread himself around’.

‘He is only 8 months old’ His owner added.

‘Brutus was done at 16 weeks, the cat couldn’t take it any more and Rocky was tired of having his bed and head urinated upon’ I said almost apologetically. The old man looked horrified that I had robbed Brutus of his manhood far too early but I didn’t care, Rocky has a stash of dog porn in his kennel and he and Brutus always like to read it of an evening over a can of beer and some nuts.

Brutus sniggered at the white dog and said ‘Why are you digging up concrete?”

‘Spreading my piss around’ Puggles said matter-of-factly and then added ‘I am still very alpha even though they made me have the op’ Puggles looked accusingly at his owner.

‘What op?” Brutus asked – such an innocent boy and a virgin too, bless his socks.

Puggles looked at Brutus as though he were stupid and lit a cigarette and exhaled deeply. Flicking ash into the pavement, he rubbed it in with his paw, making it go all smudged and grey.

‘De-sexing op, so you had it done as well?’ Puggles asked Brutus.

‘Yeah, I kept mating the cat and humping my brothers head and pissing on his bed/head/everything’ Brutus replied sadly, almost missing the experience. Gordon I will add, is very glad he has been done because he only has a tiny bottom and it is certainly not meant for amorous puppies with a thriving sex hormone production.

Just then the nurse opened the surgery door for us all to go in and I popped Brutus on the scales and am pleased to announce that he now weighs 12.6kgs. If you remember when he came out of hospital he was around 7.6kgs – I think so he is doing marvellously and is looking rather good.

I went back to the counter to give the nurses the weight for his records when I heard a commotion.

‘Puggles, you naughty boy, you can’t do that here!’ Puggles owner looked horrified.

Puggles sat by the door and had just finished taking a large shit by the mat.

Brutus still being of the giggly childish schoolboy mentality, snorted with laughter – he takes after me you see, make me laugh and I snort loudly, I can’t help it.

Brutus was snorting and giggling and yelling his favourite expression (you all know what it is!) ‘Turd legs’ to Puggles who looked thoroughly pleased with himself at the monster turd he had dropped by the mat.

A large cat in a pink basket pursed his lips together, disgusted at the scene and yelled ‘Could you have not waited until you had used your litter tray?’

‘Chew on that big boy that will teach you to rip my balls off!’ Puggles shouted to his owner and then promptly turned around and gave him full view of his fluffy white bum which now had nasty brown bits on the side. My goodness am I glad my dogs dont have fluffy white bums that could be called poo magnets.

The nurse calmly came round from the counter armed with rubber gloves and some paper and something to clean the matt with and as quickly as it was produced, the offending turd was picked up and disposed of. But not before Puggles yelled to the nurse ‘There are plenty more from where that came from’ and vowed to shit in his owners bed when he got home.

‘Don’t you ever do that Brutus’ I told him, trying not to laugh myself, really it was very funny and I do have a toilet sense of humour, so does Rocky and actually Gordon as well. I have lost count of the times that Gordon has had a hard piece of turd stuck to his bum and has released it and played ‘ping pong’ with it in the hall way.

Brutus was called in by the nurse to have his stitches out, off he trotted with his super abnormally long tail wagging behind him – you can see the vertebrae of his tail ‘clicking’ by the tail bone when he wags it, as though it is too long for his spine/body.

The nurse said he was a very good boy but his stitches had become too tight so I have to watch it doesnt weep or get sore and that I had brought him in just at the right time to get them out (9 days) but either way, they were more than ready to come out.

I bought him his heartworm/multiwormer as well – he now requires the same size heartworm treatment as Rocky which is good. Vet predicts he may reach up to 25 kgs so could be the same size as Rocky or slightly bigger. He is going to be a chunky old ‘unit’ though I should imagine.

We said goodbye to Puggles (Turd Dog as Brutus called him) and I lifted Brutus into the car and secured him and we drove home.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Rocky demanded and inspected Brutus thoroughly as a mass sniffing of genitals took place from both dogs.

I let both boys outside to let off some steam and I could hear Brutus excitedly tell Rocky about what had happened at the vet with Puggles.

‘Really? He took a shit on the mat?’ I heard Rocky say, he sounded quite jealous. Bastard better not try that when I take him to the vet.

I still have memories of when I worked at the Royal Veterinary College as a Veterinary Nurse and my whippet bitch Rema took a shit on the platform inside London Marylebone Station (pets can travel on public transport in the UK).

She did several hard nuggets that rolled all over the platform and thank God I had a poo bag because I was scrabbling around a busy commuter platform trying to recover nuggets of turd. Rema blamed it on the high fibre diet, the commuters blamed me for the smell and all I can say is thank god I was in a nurses uniform so I could pull off the ‘I am an animal nurse’ kind of face and deal with this shit every day.

So you can forgive me for thinking those days are behind me and I do not want to encourage my boys to open their bowels in inappropriate places.

Abdel and I are taking the boys out for a walk later, just need to keep an eye on the suture site as the nurse said but I think it will be OK.

It has gone very quiet in the garden so I had better check on the dogs and hope that whatever they are planning to do, it does not involve what Puggles did at the vet this morning.

Have a lovely weekend everyone.

Brutus – just one of those days!

Posted on March 20, 2013 by Samantha Rose

Gordon and Brutus planning ‘stuff’

I am not laughing today, honestly I am not and I don’t want to see any of you laughing either – especially Cath from CJ Animal Rescue as I can imagine her laughing the most.

I got home from work to a nice clean and dry crate and Brutus looking somewhat angelic saying ‘Please may I go and urinate’ He was trying to be polite and reminded me of a child creeping to its parents for stealing food from the fridge.

Opening the garden door I let him out and my eyes set on ‘the scene’ – obviously from early this arvo that hadn’t been cleaned up and I emphasise those words ‘the scene’.

My bottle brush tree had been dug enough to expose a large expanse of the beginning of the roots, several pieces of it scattered around the garden, couple that with the chewed bed and milk bottle – which was fine, the bed and the milk bottle but not the tree.

‘Who the hell did that?’ I demanded to know, Rocky lit up a cigarette (yes he smokes and I have told him not to), inhaled deeply and then blew smoke out of his nostrils that came out in funny shapes due to the shape of his nose.

‘Don’t ask me, I am a fully grown kelpie dog above such childish behaviour’ Rocky sniggered, not giving me direct eye contact, he then offered Brutus a puff of his ciggie, Brutus inhaled rather cockily and then choked on the smoke and looked throughly disgusted.

‘Was it you?’ I demanded to Brutus, he glanced down to the ground and said ‘It must have been the German Shepherd dogs that go around breaking into peoples houses and gardens, trashing them and the resident dogs get the blame’ Brutus said in a rather too quiet voice.

Sighing, I went to look at the tiny bottle brush tree which is the first thing I have ever managed to grow – well don’t count the ivy I planted against the wall of my Mums house in England which nearly ate away the brick and had to be professionally removed as that is still a sore point.

Ignoring the dogs for a moment, I tenderly tried to salvage my bottle brush tree and I suddenly heard Rocky yelling ‘Go on my son, good effort’ and I spotted Brutus taking a shit and my god the size of it, it could have been Abdels.

Not content with dropping the contents of his entire stomach in one spot, he then walks along in the ‘crapping pose’ with his tail stuck out like the handle of a water pump and does another pile further along, looks at me and then with his hind legs, kicks the shit and spreads it in a shower everywhere. All I remember thinking is ‘Thank god that is not diarrhoea’.

‘Beautiful’ I said aloud, ‘Just beautiful’.

‘I suppose you think you are clever, well I can forgive but I won’t forget’ I told Brutus as I picked up various lumps of turd in one hand and held his collar in the other to stop him ripping the bag open in his new found game. I am sure the neighbours heard me ‘talking dog’ and I am sure that they think I need certifying. But don’t judge me, I bet most of you reading this talk to your pets and I bet your pets answer back as well.

When you have a puppy, your life revolves around teething, turd, piss and hopefully NOT vomit, plus picking up dog shit as soon as it is produced because that really is to everyones benefit not to mention reducing risk of infection but for Brutus to enjoy kicking it around the garden, well that is not funny – unless it’s in someone elses garden with someone elses dog of course.

After their ‘garden games’ both boys were brought in and fed, I let their dinner settle and then let both dogs back out into the garden so I could sit down and watch Eastenders on Youtube and have some cheesecake, some rice crackers and an alcohol free beer – yes I know, healthy diet and all that.

Hearing Brutus ‘talking’, I crept to the door to see what they were up to.

Both dogs were by the bottle brush tree and you will never believe what they were doing. Rocky was giving the tree gentle tugs and using his front paw to poke it and Brutus was copying him!

‘You see, when I was a young pup not much older than you, I dug up an entire palm tree from a giant pot and dragged it round the garden’ Rocky told Brutus while poking the tree.

Brutus looked suitably impressed ‘Did you really?” The little brown dog asked in admiration.

Rocky nodded and recalled each and everything in his kelpie life; that he had dug up, chewed up and buried – including Winston the kelpie.

‘Go on, give it a poke’ Rocky said approvingly.

Brutus gave half hearted tugs on the bottle brush and Rocky bloody well joined in, I was furious – since when did Rocky go back to being destructive?

‘You naughty boys! Stop it right now!’ I yelled through the fly screen. Both dogs jumped in fright and Rocky said ‘Shit, she saw us!’, and Rocky actually shuffled off towards the shed and started whistling and pretending he was looking for tennis balls.

Brutus who hasn’t learned to lie yet, just crouched down in the soil and blushed.

There was some further chewing and chowing down on one another, Brutus tried to chew Rockys council rego tag and then made a big show of crouching down to herd up a wagtail which told him to ‘piss off’.

‘You expect me to take you seriously?” The wagtail laughed from the side of the fence.

‘Everything is a sheep’ Brutus said firmly, well as firmly as a puppy whose voice hasn’t broken could sound.

The birds in my garden are all friends with Rocky and Rocky tolerates them very well and even lets the doves come in the garden but he is guilty of telling Brutus that for the sake of making life easy, everything is a sheep unless it is a black cockatoo and that is akin to having the Queen in your garden and should be respected to the highest level.

Deciding that the dogs could come back in, after all Gordon had been fed and I was hoping they would all settle down so I could have some ‘Me time’ – does ‘Me time’ exist when you have a puppy? I don’t know, what are your thoughts?

Sitting down to finish Eastenders which had been paused on my computer, I took a deep breath in and thought ‘Oh God – I can smell shit’ – Gordon was walking round the living room looking a bit lighter so I went to his litter tray and sure enough, there were two nuggets waiting to be cleaned.

Got that out of the way, removed my thongs from Brutus’s mouth and swapped it for a rope toy and sat back down.

I breathed in again, bugger it – I could still smell shit, getting up towards the kitchen I could smell it even stronger and then I saw Brutus playing with something and Rocky was staring at him looking rather jealous. Glancing down I could see another large nugget of Gordon’s turd. Gordon gets them stuck to his bum sometimes and walks around like his arse is a Christmas tree with brown baubles on it, sometimes they get lucky and they fall off for me to pick up. That must have been what happened in this case.

Gordon sat on the chair nodding in smug fashion ‘Nice to know it can have it’s uses’ he said to Brutus as Brutus batted it towards the wall.

‘Oh Jesus Christ that is disgusting!’ I shouted and then immediately carried Brutus to put him in his crate for ‘time out’.

I went back to the offending turd and Rocky was about to start sniffing it and god forbid, even eat it. He used to have a penchant for cat shit but sort of grew out of it but I wonder if it was under his nose would he be able to refuse.

The horror in my voice must have shocked him as he shot across the living room as though that turd was on fire while Gordon was yelling ‘I dare ya to eat it!’

Rocky was duly dispatched to the laundry room with Brutus and after shredding his paper, Brutus is fast asleep and so is Gordon and anything to do with poo has been picked up and cleaned up.

I am so tired, it is one of those days where everyone in my house is naughty, if it can shit then it will, if stuff can be chewed then it will be.

I am beginning to wonder if it is a full moon and if Abdel comes home and takes a dump in my living room then I know it will be.

Now Cath – you had better not be laughing and I bet Cass is as well, I reckon this is karma, because yesterday I was laughing at Cass’s photos of the pups trashing her house and it made me giggle so this is payback.

Deep breaths – I am going to make a cup of tea, oh yes I am – don’t try and stop me. Brutus is fast asleep in his crate and I look at him and think how can something so cute be so naughty.

Later this evening…..

I was watching My Kitchen Rules with the delectable Manu for whom I have a strong garlic fetish for and I saw Gordon and Brutus by the door keeping watch. I turned around and to look by the dining room table and realised that yet again I had misread the signals that Brutus gives when he needs the toilet as in he is more naughty than usual and wont settle which can be mistaken for a playful puppy. For there by the table was a large turd steaming for all to see and appreciate should they want to.

‘I did that’ Brutus announced proudly, well there was no point in denying it really – you could almost see his name in it.

Over and out and a bit tired.

Stress and Sjogrens and Puppies…..

Posted on March 5, 2013 by Samantha Rose

This weekend I have discovered what stress can do to the body when you have an auto immune disease (well stress is no good for anyone let’s face it!).

My new puppy Brutus, was rushed to the veterinary hospital yesterday with suspected parvo virus – luckily he tested negative but the severe gastro he did have made him seriously ill.

Brutus at Murdoch Veterinary Hospital

Methotrexate and the obligatory ‘rest days’ that come afterwards

Now for those of you that take Methotrexate either by injection or tablet, will understand me when I say that the couple of days after you feel pretty crap and you have to take it easy because if you do too much, you pay for it handsomely.

My Methotrexate injection is taken on a Friday evening and Saturday I am fit for nothing and Sunday I am on a ‘go slow’, Monday I start to feel better but if I exert myself by doing to much on a Sunday then let’s just say I have used up all my spoons (read ‘The Spoon Theory’ for those of you that don’t know what I mean). See below for link:

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/wpress/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

Well Saturday my new puppy came – Brutus, a 13 week old Kelpie/Rhodesian Ridgeback cross and very cute he is too.

Brutus (left) and my Kelpie Rocky (right)

What a difference 1mg can make

On Saturday I woke up feeling dry and in pain to the point I was actually scared, it hurt to breath in, my lungs were so dry and my throat that each time I swallowed I was choking – all Sjogrens people will know what I mean by that and as I had reduced my steroids by 1mg, I never imagined for one minute that I would notice the difference, but I did – big time.

Used up all of my ‘spoons’

So my new puppy was brought to me and as you can imagine, I didn’t rest at all as keeping an eye on a young pup that is trying to drag the fan into the middle of the room while it is switched on, amongst gathering your entire shoe collection, is akin to chasing a small child around the house – not that I have children but one still needs to have eyes in the back of ones head to stop them getting into trouble.

Sunday I woke up feeling in pain and dizzy and tired – that was it, my body was saying ‘you bitch! this is payback for not letting me rest’ and if we are talking ‘Spoon Theory’ then not only had I ran out of spoons, but I had borrowed an entire collection and was in ‘spoon debt’.

Sick as a dog

Seeing that Brutus the puppy was exceptionally sick, I drove him to the veterinary hospital, completely forgetting to take my steroids, eye drops and pain killers, thinking that I would only be a few minutes.

A few hours later I was still in the hospital and as anyone with Lupus or Sjogrens can verify, even a half an hour delay on medication can upset the balance on the whole day if not week, and basically your immune system has one hell of a party to which you are not invited – who would have thought a few hours would make such a difference?

I was nearly at the stage and I kid you not, of asking the veterinary nurse if they could give me some prednisolone and ASAP and if they could spare some pain relief. There I was in reception for over an hour, no water in the reception area and having Sjogrens and no water is like eating Muesli without the milk.

When I was in the consulting room, it took some courage to ask the vet student for a glass of water and when she gave it to me, I virtually inhaled it as though I hadn’t seen water in years.and the vet student looked visibly shocked as this plastic cup of water disappeared in seconds and even after that, I still had a tongue like an old London cobbled street.

I had no my eye drops in my bag so my eyes were bright red and burning, especially after making attempts to cry over my critically ill Brutus pup who was now lifeless on the tablet and we won’t even discuss my swollen fingers and ankles. Let’s just say that I probably needed as much help as the animals in reception and it was a stark reminder of just how many drugs that I needed to function in order to live a nearly normal life.

That is when you really notice the affects of Sjogrens or Lupus, when you are taken out of your routine, when you ignore your body when it shouts at you that it needs rest and it is not as though you can ‘teach your body a lesson’ and just push yourself because if you do, you pay for it – you pay with pain, you pay with dryness, you pay with dizziness, it hurts to breathe and cough – you just pay and you pay with interest.

Brutus

Brutus was transferred to another veterinary hospital and is still in on a drip although I have been told he was barking his head off this morning so he must be a lot better which pleases me as he is an adorable dog and I love him, and we both fought for our health yesterday not to mention that he fits in very well with my Kelpie Rocky and my cat Gordon as you can see below:

Gordon on the sofa, Brutus on the floor and Rocky on his bed – ‘the family’

Today is just another day in the life of a Sjogrens person

I did not sleep well last night at all, my joints felt so tight, I felt dizzy, my lungs hurt, my eyes hurt, my ‘everything’ hurt. I don’t get sick pay as I am a temp but if I did, I would have taken today off in an attempt to bribe my body into behaving and to say sorry for pushing it to the max this weekend.

Auto immune diseases and stress do not go hand in hand, they are not friends in fact they hate one another with a passion.

Which makes it all the more reason to minimize/reduce stress wherever possible, except of course when it comes to sick animals/kids but that is another ball game because you don’t want to end up like me in a busy veterinary hospital almost begging for a dose of prednisolone and a glass of water and a kennel to rest in.

This morning I have had my pain relief, but have succumbed to an energy drink to keep me awake, yes I know, slap on the wrist but I am not keen on coffee and needs must. I have also said sorry to my ‘Sjogrens self’ and promised to always carry my medication and eye drops and a bottle of water and avoid stress (yeah right!)

And hopefully in return tonight I will get a good nights sleep, no dizziness or lung pain, no swollen joints and even a bit of saliva.

And talking of avoiding stress, did I tell you that Brutus may come home today? Go on, you have to admit he is cute….

Brutus – stress in the form of a (cute) puppy

Right, it is time for me to drink some more water, there is nothing quite like being held to ransom by your immune system.

Have a lovely week everyone.

The Pigaloo Diaries

The magical world of talking animals and my view on life

Tag Archives: Puppy

The Mystery of Exploding Dog Beds

Brutus – if it’s green then eat it!

Brutus Update: (naughty radar 9/10)

It is jolly hard to be angry at something that has the cute factor and that can ‘talk’ in typical hound fashion the way in which Brutus can.

My lovely fake lawn!

Brutus – Storm in an E Cup!

Brutus goes to puppy school

It’s Raining Cats and Dogs! – (warning contains bad language and talking animals!)

Owning a pet – the good, the bad and the heartbreaking

Brutus and his trip to the vet

Brutus – just one of those days!

Stress and Sjogrens and Puppies…..