27 Mar
Help Yourself to my Bed Why Don'tcha

Help Yourself to my Bed Why Don’tcha

Spring has crept up behind the storms and dragged the daffodils, daisies and crocuses up from the soggy red soil. Crows are zooming overhead with nesting materials gathered in their beaks and the larks have risen from the fields until they are barely visible specks in the sky pouring their song over our hilltop. But … I have had to buy Roger a coat. He feels the cold, poor chap. Though he’s put on weight he’s still much too thin. (He needs at least another three kilos, then – shhhh, don’t tell him – I’ll reduce his intake to a maintenance diet.) His lack of body mass doesn’t help with his susceptibility to the cold and so when we walk out on wet, chilly days he wears his new coat. At night he sleeps under a duvet – mine. He must be under the duvet and he must have his head covered. His preference, not mine. Even when dozing under a blanket on one of St F’s sofas, he must have his head covered. I wonder why. He dreams a lot and growls and whimpers in his sleep. Sometimes he sounds so distressed I have to gently wake him up. Other times I have to wake him up to get him to move back across the bed, bloody bed hog. Bleary golden eyes gaze at me and I can read the thoughts there ‘what? You want me to get off the bed? But I like it here.’ However he does (eventually) get up then I can move back from the precipice and gain a little mattress for myself. As soon as I’ve settled, back comes Roger, under the duvet and rests his bodyweight against me and I start the inexorable slide towards the edge of the bed again. Lucky I’m a dog lover isn’t it?

You can't see me, right?

You can’t see me, right?

Oh well, as I said at the top of this post, spring is springing and most days are warm enough for my bony bed hog to go out without his coat. He runs around the field chasing St F’s latest family member, Molotov, a puppy rescued from a future as a bait dog, and she out manoeuvres him exactly as Eric was out manoeuvred by his girlfriend, Madge, and Roger loves it. He has learned to play frisbee (but not to give it back yet) and best of all, he comes back when I call him. What more can I ask for? Oh yes, a cure for his slobbering. Other than that, Roger is a truly lovely, well-mannered gentleman and I love him.

My Very Tall Dog

My Very Tall Dog

One Month On And I’m Smitten

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Posted by on March 27, 2014 in Family Life


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