dogs

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Sunday Lunch

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The delightful scent of roast chicken wafted out from the kitchen. Grace liked visiting her cousins, Aunty was a great cook. Playing in the garden with the others, Grace kept an eye on the back door that led into the kitchen. No one was allowed in the kitchen when Aunty was cooking, she had been in there for ages, surely lunch would be ready soon…

‘Grace, come on, your turn.’

She grabbed the ball just in time, despite being weak with hunger.

At last the back door opened.

‘Everybody to the table, not through the kitchen, come in through the patio door, go and wash your hands then get yourselves sat at the table.’

Grace was first in, there was a scrabble to get to the table, handwashing forgotten about. She tried to squeeze in, but couldn’t find a space.

‘Millie, back out in the garden and take Grace with you, you’ve had your lunch.’

Somehow she and Millie found themselves on the wrong side of the patio doors. Grace was too polite to say anything as it wasn’t her home, but Millie did not hold back from voicing her opinion of her family.

‘Call that lunch, call that a meal, same old pile of biscuits I always get, not even a chocolate digestive or some Jaffa cakes.’

‘Oh I love Jaffa cakes,’ said Grace ‘I sometimes have them as a treat, well only one…’

‘Precisely, they eat a whole packet. Hey look, they left the back door open, come on.’

Grace didn’t think they were allowed in the kitchen, even when Aunty had finished cooking, but if Millie said it was okay…’

‘Come on Grace, we’re going to get the leftovers anyway, so why wait, I’m starving.’

Grace was bigger than Millie so she was proud she could help her cousin by reaching the counter top. In seconds they were sharing what was left of the chicken. Tender slivers of meat, crunchy legs, crispy skin and the most divine roast potatoes.

‘Hey Grace, see if you can reach the last two potatoes.’

It was a stretch and a bit of a jump and as she touched the potatoes Grace knocked the heavy carving tray that was already teetering on the edge. There was a deafening crash and Grace jumped in fright. She turned to Millie to ask if they should go back in the garden, but Millie had disappeared. Before she could slip out of the door she heard an awful scream and turned to see Aunty. The strange noise was coming out of Aunty’s mouth and her friendly face had been replaced by a red angry one. Grace thought it might be wise to get in the garden as quickly as possible, but the door had blown shut. Other grownups appeared in the kitchen and Aunty was now saying words.

‘Look what your dog’s been up to!’

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Under The Weather

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Fliss pulled open her bedroom curtains and sighed with delight. The rising sun set a rosy glow over the garden, it was going to be beautiful for her day off.

She waved everyone off to work and school and settled with her coffee in their so called sun lounge, the make shift extension her husband had cobbled onto the back of the house. With the autumn sun streaming in sideways, as she sat in the rickety cane chair, she could imagine herself to be in a posh conservatory.

The garden called, but so did the common. She felt so energised she could easily do her 10,000 steps, come home, plant all her spring bulbs, quick lunch then take her mother to the garden centre as promised, lovely relaxing afternoon tea and a good gossip. They could go in that farm shop and get some nice things for dinner.

Everyone was out on the common, walkers, joggers and dog owners; lots of people she knew or at least familiar faces who always smiled and waved. She should get a dog, why not, just because the rest of the family protested and vowed never to walk it if she brought a dog home. She would walk it herself twice a day, while doing her 10,000 steps, or 20,000, she was ready for 20,000. She smiled at dog walkers, already feeling part of the canine community and just laughed when a muddy retriever jumped up and left paw marks on her clean trousers. A labradoodle or springer spaniel would be perfect.

Back at home she scattered the bulbs all over the lawn, no more mowing, wildflower field with naturalised bulbs. Fliss dug enthusiastically into the tough wet grass; she could send a video in to Gardeners’ World, the new puppy trotting through the flowery meadow, perhaps she would get two dogs. She could take them into work, it was a wonderful company she worked for, very welcoming to children and pets of staff members, all part of looking after colleagues’ mental health.

Without warning everything suddenly went dark, Fliss looked up. The blue sky had disappeared and dark clouds rolled over the roof of her house, large rain drops landed on her nose. She looked at her watch, that time already, why had she agreed to take her mother out on her only day off? No doubt her mother would spend the afternoon complaining about anything and everything.

Fliss rushed to put the tools away and on impulse tossed the rest of the bulbs in the compost bin. The garden was a mess, John was right, might as well cover it all with a useful patio and he could knock down his dreadful extension at the same time. She stormed indoors and consumed a whole bar of her daughter’s chocolate while she threw on some clean clothes. If her mother commented on her choice of outfit she would definitely lose her rag. No time to think about this evening’s dinner, she wasn’t going to waste her day off cooking, they could take a turn in the kitchen for a change and if Johnn didn’t start doing his share of housework she would hand in her notice at work. She hated the job anyway, whatever possessed her to take it?

As Fliss opened the front door the rain lashed in; all she wanted to do was go back to bed, what a dreadful day.

Don’t Lick the Dishwasher

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Holiday Guide for Dogs

Many of our humans take us to stay with their friends and relatives, which can be a bit of an ordeal, but mostly better than being sent ‘on a little holiday,’ their euphemism for dumping us in a boarding kennel.

It is important to beware of the pitfalls of staying in another house, but also to be understanding, remember, there are no bad humans, only badly trained humans.

After a testing journey in an overpacked car or crowded train, how you are greeted is a good indication of how the visit will pan out.

‘Oh he’s so adorable.’

I’m a girl!

‘Who’s a cutsie wootsie little puppy then.’

I’m two… and for goodness sake, aren’t there any humans around here with intelligent conversation?

But that’s better than

‘I hope he’s not allowed on the furniture.’

Where do they expect me to lie, surely not on the floor.

‘Oh good, you’ve brought his cage.’

‘It’s a crate not a cage Mother’ says your owner.

‘Well whatever it is, put it in the laundry.’

No you’re both wrong, it’s my personal safe space which I like to have placed somewhere nice.

After making an effort to enthusiastically greet your hosts it’s time to explore. If you smell something nice cooking be sure to head straight for the kitchen to show your appreciation. There will probably be tasty treats left on the edge of the work top for you.  

Hosts enjoy the fun of having more than one dog to visit and soon their quiet, boring house will have turned into a happy hub bub, causing much hilarity.

‘Si..monn.. come and get your dogs out of my kitchen NOW.’

I wish I had hung onto that stair gate, it’s worse than having toddlers around… DEREK, De rekkk… can you rescue Aunt Mary’s tapestry cushions and put them in the top of our wardrobe and while you’re up there shut all the doors.  Oh my god, what have they brought in from the garden, is it a dead rat? A toy squirrel? When we were children the only toys dogs had were a few sticks and a ball.’

Your host’s garden is bound to be more interesting than yours. They may have a fun paddling pool with real fish, or if they are the sort of humans who decided to have little humans as dog substitutes, there will be balls to chase and swings, slides and climbing frames for you to chase the little humans up. They will love it.

‘Mummmee, he’s bitten my football and bursted it.’

But playtime must come to an end for dinner time. If you are asked to stay in your safe space while they rather rudely eat dinner without you, be patient and stay alert for conversations such as…

‘Yes of course they can have a few leftovers, I’m not surprised they prefer roast chicken to that horrible dry stuff you give them…’

Hurrah, the host is on your side.

‘Balanced nutrition, whatever happened to marrow bone jelly and tins of chum?’

After a lovely roast dinner pop into the kitchen to see if you can help tidy up, but be careful of your manners if the dish washer is open. Strangely some humans don’t like you licking the dishwasher, even when everything inside is nice and clean.

Soon you hear the hopeful words

‘Yes okay, an evening walk in the park to get rid of their energy sounds an excellent idea, you staying here relaxing after your long drive does Not. Your mother and I are not picking up dog poo or running after escaped dogs.’

Everyone’s spirits are high as you run around and explore the local park and make new friends. Your hosts make new friends as well.

‘Oh aren’t they gorgeous, bet they’re a handful, are they yours?’

‘No they certainly are not, just visiting.’

Perhaps your humans will want to catch up with old human friends and pop into the pub on the way back. Lie quietly under the table and hopefully you will get the sort of treats you’re not allowed at home. Patience is required though as humans get so busy talking they forget about you.

‘Has he had the chop then, poor old thing, mind you not a good idea to breed from an ugly mutt like him, ha ha haa. Oh, they’re pedigrees?  Here have some hot and spicy BBQ crisps Mr. Pedigree and Miss Pedigree. Not allowed crisps? Oh oh, they’ve wolfed down two packets each.’

Finally don’t forget to protect your humans from danger when visiting all these new places. A good snarl will tell that dog under the next table to stay put. When you finally get back to your hosts’ house check the garden for foxes and cats and send them running.

‘SiMOn, what Are your dogs doing out there, they’ve set off that wretched dog next door barking.’

At last it’s time for a well earned sleep in you safe space, if you can get to sleep with that overpowering scent of washing powder in the laundry.

Weird Wednesday

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A giant Dachshund and a miniature doll.

Your last chance to grab a skeleton as this shop goes into administration.

when you can’t remember where you put the ironing board…

Butterflies For Buddleias need your help to save innocent Buddleias in gaol.

Fed up with puppies and kittens? Post your favourite fly pictures on social media.

Thursday Travels

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How will you travel today?

Land or Sea?

When your bus escapes to the countryside…

When your moorings break loose…

…and you drift upstream it’s time to head for dry land.

…where you never know who you might meet.

Perhaps a day at the beach would be best…

…but keep an eye on the weather.

Or you may never be seen again…

Featuring Dexter, Josie and Alfie with Antipodean Stripy Stranger.

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Grandma’s Birthday Bash

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Grandma’s Big Ate O  WhatsApp group

Anyone heard from Josh?

Am I booking the house?

Yes, all agreed on the date, Gma’s actual bday?

No, that’s when we’re in Portugal.

If I’m doing photo book send me nice pix of Xmas with smiling kids.

No, haven’t heard from Josh.

And smiling adults.

But not the one with Lucy unwrapping sex toys!!!

Sending pic with everyone round the table.

Oh I look awful. Don’t use.

I am not even in it, was in the kitchen… all day.

Who took pic of baby on Great Gma’s lap?

Josh I think.

Have we heard from him yet?

Send the link to this place pls.

Did, four days ago, ‘The Greenhouse….’

All glass?

Not that sort, environmentally friendly, green roof, grey water tanks, straw walls.

Hope a wolf doesn’t come along…

Oh that sounds excellent, get some ideas for our self build.

Y’re not still on about that?

Yes, can’t wait to tell everyone…

If we’re only there for a few days, doesn’t matter what it’s made of.

Thought we were booking for a week.

We can only do four nights, ballet and horse riding.

I want a week and so does Mum, it is her birthday treat.

Who’s working out the cost share?

Josh.

Anyone heard from him?

Thought Gma was paying for it.

Did you get another date for your operation Tam?

No, but let’s get on with booking.

Did they decide where your Danny was on the spectrum?

Not yet.

Are you bringing the dogs?

Yes.

And their containers?

Crates, yes.

What about the little ones?

We could put them in the crates ha ha…

We need four more to book the air rifles.

Do they do archery at that place?

Yup and human hamster balls.

What do they do for great grannies?

Garden shop and tea room.

Baz’s girlfriend is allergic.

To plants?

No, dogs.

Tyson won’t eat my baby will he?

Might do, ha ha, certainly won’t realise your handbag fur ball is also a dog.

Fur baby, fur balls are what cats have.

Did we decide whether to get Gma another cat?

Josh was looking into rescue cats, anyone heard from him yet?

Haven’t you lot got beds to go to. Let’s finish sorting this tomorrow if we hear from Josh.

Okay, but who’s taking Gma?

No room in our car.

We’re coming on the train.

We’re bringing the van.

I’m in the opposite direction, thought Josh was bringing her.

Has Josh been in touch with anyone?

Friday Flash Fiction – 707 – Coffee Break

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‘Claire, Claire, where are you?’

The back door flew open to reveal my husband dressed in his bright holiday shorts and business shirt and tie.

‘Where did you think I was, I told you we were going to fill up the paddling pool.’

‘Nice to be some…’ said Tom.

‘Come and join us later, surely you’re allowed a break?’

‘Depends how long the conference call goes on for, I just came to tell you we’re out of coffee.’

Covid had a lot to answer for, especially the idea of working from home.

‘Can’t you get it, I can’t leave the little ones with the water. Why don’t you have a cup of tea or a smoothie for now?’

Tom spluttered in disgust.

‘A green broccoli smoothie is not going to get me through that conference call… anyway you know what we always get.’

‘Okay, you stay out here and keep an eye on the hose and the children… and put your phone away.’ I dropped my voice and mouthed  ‘it only takes a minute for a child to  D.. R.. O..W.. N.’ then raised it ‘Oscaar… hose in the paddling pool not on Daddy.’

‘Don’t be long’ pleaded Tom.

‘Do you want the variety box, latte, expresso, americano…?

‘Yes, yes the biggest box they do.’

 I went upstairs, pausing on the landing to look out the window and make sure Tom had not forgotten he was in charge. The hose was now snaking out of control across the lawn. In my so called office I logged in to Coffee Zone, repeat order, multi pack, check delivery times… Yes, coffee would be here in time for his bloody conference call. What did they actually do on conference calls? Probably played X Box like my forty year young brother. I had no idea what Tom actually did at work when he went to the office every day and now he worked from home I was still none the wiser. Whatever he did he had been head hunted a couple of times and with the amount he got paid I didn’t mind spoiling him. My on line upcycling craft business hardly brought in enough to feed the dog and the cat.  

I looked at my watch, twenty minutes to get ready for the coffee. I dashed back into the garden.

‘Tom, where’s the dog?’

‘You only told me to look after the children.’

‘ZEUS, ZEuus…’

 I waved a packet of dog treats and Zeus bounded out of the herbaceous border, he was soon locked in the laundry. The children would be harder to get under control.

‘Ten minutes then indoors.’

‘But we haven’t done paddling yet.’

‘Why don’t you come in and watch Octonauts and have some parsnip crisps while the sun is warming the water. Then you can come back out after the coffee has arrived.’

With the children safely indoors I still had to find the cat, but there was no time to look. Hearing Zeus’ frantic barking I rushed back in and locked the door, the dog always heard it before me. Keeping watch through the patio door I saw a glint over the trees. 10.45am, exactly on time. The Coffee Zone Drone circled, I hoped it’s aim would be better this time. My stomach lurched as, too late, I saw a familiar black and white shape slink across the lawn then freeze as the warning siren started. The drone was higher than usual when its undercarriage opened, the large bright orange box dropped down onto the lawn, narrowly missing the paddling pool. I dashed out, but as I got close my mouth went dry. Sticking out from under the hefty box was a black tail. I knew from previous deliveries the box was too heavy to lift on my own and I was thankful to hear Tom’s voice. I turned to see him holding the cat and laughing.

‘He’s a quivering wreck, he doesn’t like drones does he?’

My relief was short lived, had we killed the neighbour’s cat?

‘Quick, lift the box.’

I closed my eyes. When I opened them Tom was holding up the squashed body of the shabby toy cat the children had insisted on buying from the charity shop.

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Friday Flash Fiction – Therapups

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I had never heard of the charity Therapups, nor had Google, but one of my late aunt’s dog loving friends sent me the postal address. Aunty had requested no flowers for her funeral, just a donation to her favourite charity. I sent a small cheque and a brief letter with my address included, requesting the next copy of their newsletter, which was apparently going to feature a tribute to my aunt.

A week later I received a hefty envelope, almost a parcel, with a gushing letter thanking me for my generosity. The newsletter was to follow shortly, but in the meantime they were pleased to send me a Therapups key ring with dog whistle attached and one hundred biodegradable poop bags in a designer carry case; all in the distinctive charity colours puce pink and sunflower yellow. I don’t own a dog, but they weren’t to know that. Also included was a colourful booklet explaining the charity’s work; it seems they provided therapy and assistance dogs not covered by other better known charities.


I was quite impressed, Therapups gave every dog an opportunity to make a contribution whether they were a St. Bernard with shopping panniers or a handbag sized ball of fluff you cuddled to calm your nerves. The newsletter duly arrived and gave more enlightenment as to my aunt’s contribution; who would have guessed her knitting skills would have been put to such good use or her Aloe Vera plant stand at the annual fete so popular? It was even more of a surprise to learn that her bad tempered terrier mix, who drove the neighbours mad with his constant yapping, had been a ‘wonderful therapy dog whose sad passing at the age of nineteen left an unfillable gap in Thelma’s life, undoubtably leading to her untimely demise weeks later at the age of ninety nine.’

Enclosed with the dozen copies of the newsletter was a puce pink and sunflower yellow picture frame with an unflattering photo of Aunt Thelma surrounded by half a dozen very ugly puppies. I wrote once more to thank them and promised to pass the newsletters to the rest of the family, though what I would do with the remaining seven copies I had no idea.

A week later another parcel arrived with a dozen Therapup calendars and an apologetic note… ‘I know it’s May already, but hopefully we all need calendars now we’re on the roadmap to Covid Recovery.’ I did not get around to replying or hanging a calendar up; I got the impression from the pictures on the calendar that they took the dogs no other charity wanted.



I was surprised the next week to receive yet another parcel from Therapups, a strange pink and yellow object which turned out to be a folding water bowl. I gave it to a dog owning friend. It was barely a week later when another package arrived; a paperback biography of the founder of Therapups. By now the charity had spent more on postage alone than I had given them in the first place, but it wasn’t hard to guess that they were expecting more from me. Enclosed were direct debit forms for regular contributors and leaflets on their free will writing service. I put them all in the recycling bin; I had little prospect of much money, now or after my death. Friends had expected Aunt Thelma to leave me her run down, but valuable house. She left her house and possessions and £57.37 all to Therapups.
They were not put off by my lack of response and further gifts left me wondering if they thought I was in need of a therapy dog. I received a yellow and pink rug for my wheelchair and dachshund shaped herbal wheat bag for chronic pain. My latest gift is a cuddly sunflower yellow toy puppy, far more handsome than their real dogs and I have to confess he is rather a comfort and I even sneak him into work.

Sunday Short Story – Quarantine

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When Lynne arrived at her bubble friend’s house for their morning coffee she was surprised to find Eleanor in a state of agitation.

‘Are you okay, the effects of the second jab?’

‘Yes, no… let me get the coffee and I’ll tell you my news.’

Lynne could not imagine what the news could be, not much happened in Covid times and certainly nothing to put her friend in such a state, but there was something different about the house. The usual vase of cut flowers on the hall stand had disappeared and so had the orchid on the window sill. As she followed Eleanor into the kitchen she was puzzled to see the cupboard door handles tied together with stout string.

‘Go and sit down Lynne, I’m just trying to remember where I put the coffee.’

‘Okay, I brought that jigsaw, I’ll put it on the dining room table.’

There was a strange crackling underfoot as Lynne walked into the dining room and she realised she was walking on plastic sheeting that covered the carpet. Eleanor hadn’t mentioned that she was going to have decorators in. The exquisite mahogany dining table, recently inherited from an aunt, was covered in a heavy duty plastic tablecloth, perhaps her friend was planning to do some messy crafts.

When Lynne moved into the usually elegant front room her confusion increased; it now seemed most likely her friend had been burgled. The fireplace looked bare, gone was the antique urn with its arrangement of dried flowers and the crystal vase Lynne had given her for Christmas was no longer on the windowsill. She glanced around the room and took in a bizarre scene. The glass cabinet had a heavy quilt secured round it and the occasional tables all had wodges of foam taped to their corners. The three piece suite was covered in throws that looked like they had come from Wilkos rather than John Lewis and there was no sign of the embroidered cushions.

Eleanor walked in with two scruffy looking mugs.

‘Sorry about the mugs, they’re the ones Anthony used to keep down at the allotment. I’ve packed all the bone china away. I’m afraid I didn’t have time to make a cake… well I have been baking, but not for us…’

Before any explanation was forthcoming there was the sound of frantic yapping and Eleanor went to open the back door for Covina, the little dog she had acquired from the dachshund rescue centre. The dog rushed into the room to greet Lynne.

‘You’re surely not moving house, Michael hasn’t persuaded you to go over there?’

‘Goodness no, I wouldn’t even go to that dreadful country on holiday; they’re coming back to England, out of the blue, arriving at Heathrow early afternoon. It seems they are allowed to quarantine with relatives, me.’

‘Oh that’s wonderful news, at last you’ll get to see the babies.’

‘Hardly babies, three and four now and if they are like Michael was at that age… my head spins just seeing them on Facetime. So I have taken a few precautions, I don’t want to be responsible for them ending up in A&E. Forty four years old and Michael still has that scar on his forehead from the fireplace at our first house.  I was going to ask, you know you said you would love to have Covina to stay if I ever managed to go on holiday, do you think you could possibly have her now?’

‘Yes of course, though I’m sure the children would be gentle with her.’

‘I’m worried she might bite them; the charity did say she was best suited to a quiet home with an older person. I remember that time with my brother’s dog when Michael was three; it was his fault of course, shoving his hand in the dog’s mouth.’

‘Covina’s hardly a pit bull, but I suppose tiny fingers could be a worry. I shall enjoy having her.’

Eleanor kept looking nervously at the clock, she had the hands free house phone and her mobile by her side.

 ‘Relax you’re all organised, except… perhaps now the charity shops are open again you could get a few toys for them…’ she looked at the expression on Eleanor’s face ‘or maybe order on line.’

As if in answer to that suggestion they heard the door bell being rung frantically.

‘Ah that will be the Amazon parcels; Michael asked me to get some Lego sets for them.’

‘Aren’t they a bit young for Lego, choking hazards?’

‘Oh dear, I hadn’t thought of that.’

Ten minutes later Eleanor had located the scissors she had hidden away and they manged to get the boxes open to reveal several brightly coloured Lego sets.

Eleanor examined the writing and pictures on the boxes.

‘Strange people and vehicles, but it seems only under threes choke, so that’s a relief. But really Lynne I’m getting too old for all this; you wait years to get some grandchildren, then they go abroad and then there’s a world wide pandemic and nobody gets to see their grandchildren…’

Two days later Lynne turned into Eleanor’s road on her way to the post office and was alarmed to see an ambulance outside Eleanor’s house. After all the precautions she wondered what mishap had befallen the precious grandchildren. She wasn’t being nosy, she had to walk that way anyway. As she got closer there was a further shock when she saw Eleanor on a stretcher being wheeled down the front path.

‘Oh Lynne, isn’t this embarrassing, Michael will tell you what happened.’

As her friend was loaded into the ambulance a frazzled looking man emerged from the front door with a wriggling, screeching child in his arms.

‘Nee Nah, Nee Nah, I want to go in the hambliance.’

The man’s voice was muffled through the child’s hair.  ‘Nice to meet you Lynne, I hear you have been a great support, but we’re here now; just as well now this has happened.’

‘What did happen?’

‘I’m not exactly sure; Mother was tidying up all the mess in the dining room after breakfast and she stood on some Lego and slipped on the plastic sheeting.’