This is the boss of our house. He’s small, furry and about five months old, an appallingly lively Jug puppy – i.e. a Jack Russell/pug cross
He’s my daughter’s dog – officially, anyway – and as you can see he suffers from a bad case of cute! He’s ridiculously friendly, playful and good-natured. Within hours of his arrival in our house at 9 weeks old, he had us all wrapped around his little paw. Now our lives seem to revolve around his feeding times, walk times and toilet training (work in progress, though we’re almost there – what sort of dog, born and bred in Scotland, is afraid to go out and pee in the rain?)
Needless to say, my eleven year old daughter and her pals are gooey over this pup. My older teenage sons and their large, gruff friends openly dote on him. My husband (who finally withdrew his objections to having a dog in the house with the words, “If you all want a dog, fair enough. But I’m having nothing to do with it,”) is besotted, an affection that clearly goes both ways J.
In fact, it’s a bit like having another baby in the house. Everything you don’t want to end up in his mouth has to be put above a certain height – food, shoes, earphones, computer mice, phones, letters, waste paper, rubbish, you name it. My daughter is seriously considering having to give her teacher that old excuse that no one ever believes: “The dog ate my homework.”
I have to get up in the morning to let him out for a pee and feed him before I’ve finished coffee in bed. I must lose at least two hours writing time a day through walking and feeding him etc. And someone always has to hang on to him while everyone else is eating, or we have to shut him in his cage, and then he cries!
Plus, he’s got needle sharp teeth and he bites for Britain. We have to have something handy to shove in his mouth when he gets excited, or neither clothes nor skin are safe from him. In short, he’s trouble!
So why is it so much fun to have him around???
Because he’s cute and cuddly and makes us laugh. He curls up on your knee or fits himself around the curves of your body to sleep. He welcomes you back with wheefling, ears-pinned back joy if you’ve left the room for as long as five minutes. He’s always game to play: he squares up to the Hoover, barks at his food bowl as if he expects it to fill magically at his command, drags the mop through the house, bites our toes and plays with the laundry. He falls off the sofa while grooming, walks across our heads while we’re asleep, runs off with spoons and ladles from the dishwasher, sliding about on the floor as he goes. He plays with an old hobby horse, a moshi monster toy and my daughter’s Halloween wig as if fighting his greatest enemies, bounces extraordinarily high on his hind legs when he wants a treat, and in general is just funny.
So what about your pets? How funny are they? And if you don’t have a pet, would you like one?
If you want to send me photos of your pets (Marie AT MarieTreanor DOT COM), I’ll show them in a follow-up blog