Woof Woofington

Walk the Walk - the Moonwalk Way

So, the Mistress believes – thanks to her credit card statement – that she and her three friends have secured places on this year’s Moonwalk (in aid of breast cancer) aka a walk in the dark, around the capital, in your bra with loads of other women en route. Oh yes, and it’s for a half marathon or.. a whole one. And, which one has the Mistress has opted for? Yes, the equivalent of walking from here in West London to Slough! In one go!

Actually, I think they are letting men do it this year too but more of that when it’s all confirmed. Needless to say, the Mistress’ other half has not volunteered himself…..

So, her training starts in earnest and guess who will be expected to trot along as she ups the mileage, trekking across London, in the weeks to come. Yes, yours truly. But, guess who is NOT invited to the gig itself? Yes, right again, ME! So I get to do all the hard work but get none of the glory.

That can’t be right, can it? I wonder how many other canine chums help their masters and mistresses out to train for sporting glory, only to be sidelined once the big day come along?

The only consolation is that with all the walking we have scheduled, she’s going to have to up my calorie intake. I know what it takes to be a peak performer!!! Oh yes.

So, paws crossed, even though I don’t get to be dressed up in some pink frilly number in May (no bad thing, to be honest), there is a chance that my faithful friends – Bonios, Shapes, Markies, - in fact, dog biscuits/snacks of any make and size – will be coming back into my life. Hooray! A dog in training cannot live by pellets alone!!!!

Yesterday, The Times ran a piece about New Yorkers taking their dogs with them to do exercise like yoga. Actually, it’s already happening over here in Battersea Park – doga, yes yoga for dogs! I’m not sure who would find it more stressful – me or the Mistress, since neither of us is capable of chilling out (unless we’ve been exercising to exhaustion) when there are so many other things to do, like…eat!

For now, we can only dream of packing in the serious carbohydrates but, given a few weeks, I think pasta could be back in our lives. Phew!

Good luck everyone who is embarking a new sporting activity this year! Believe you will do it and ..you will do it.

Woof Woof

Advice to Charles Kennedy – ditch the booze, get a dog!

New party leaders – yes, they’re just like buses – there are none for ages and then two, possibly three come along all at once. Boom! Boom!

Poor Charles Kennedy; tonight the political pundits are writing him off but if you read his statement, I think he could be like the phoenix, rising from the ashes once again! We all love an underdog and unlike Kate Moss who – allegedly – snorted too much coke but won’t acknowledge it, Charles K has come out – not yet totally clean and serene – but honest and ready to change.

Good for him, I say. Being a boozer isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Wasn’t he once called Champagne Charlie because he enjoyed a tipple or two and was, perhaps, the ultimate bon viveur? I bet he was a great house guest, too! Full of cheer and chat.

But now it’s time to change; Charles has got to get with the programme – I’ve said it was year of the detox and mark my words, they’ll all be following in the Liberal Democrat’s path – admitting their problems and going cold turkey from booze, fags, food or drugs.

Mr Kennedy already has the vote winners – a lovely wife who people perceive as normal, a gorgeous son (conveniently born during the last General Election) and I know what will clinch it for him. A dog!

Because, believe me, when you’ve said no to the drink, you need something or someone to help you get out and about – unaided and unsupported by the 5% proof stuff. A dog is JUST the thing; imagine it now, lots of photos of Mr Kennedy and his new best friend, walking in the highlands, saying YES to life and no to booze and generally saying, look at me, if I can do it, you can do it (apart from be Party leader, that is). He’ll be fighting off any cheeky contenders and hanging onto the yellow crown for all its worth.

Yes, in the dark night of the soul, a dog really is just what you need. When you’ve had a c**p day, four paws and an adoring look make you feel just that little bit better.

So, Charles, just say no! No to pints, doubles, singles, slammers, half bottles, full bottles – whatever your tipple is, forget it. Instead, ask the dog professionals to find you a pet who can fix a broken man.

You’ll never regret it; that I can guarantee.

Woof Woof

2006 – Year of the Dog? No, Year of the Detox!

Yes, yes, yes, I should be beside myself with excitement because very very soon it will be…Year of the Dog. Hooray! If you don’t know which Chinese sign is yours, find out sharpish because you don’t want 2006 to be a dog of a year for you, do you?!

Anyway, more of the Dog-tastic news later…we’re still in Year of the Rooster until the end of the month.

In the meantime, the mistress has decided that 2006 is the year of the detox! Oh no….

Last night, just to prove her point, she watched a programme about which diets were the most successful and shockingly, she realised, she had tried almost every one. From Scarsdale (well before my time) through to the Cambridge Diet and onwards to the F-plan, Atkins and the GI diet. And now…the detox!

Personally, I’m with Lorraine Kelly – ditch the diets and get off your a**e!

Anyway, of course, I am still on the pellet diet until I reach my goal weight; not sure how the Mistress is going to reward me since snacks are now off the menu. I’m hoping for a five star luxury break with doggy spa thrown in; yes, they do exist!

So, the Mistress is detoxing and you can forget anyone who says it is easy. Try being on the receiving end of someone who has taken the caffeine pledge ie no more coffees et al. I thought I was the only bitch in the house. Not any more!

I much preferred her when she was knocking back the lattes, diet cola, etc etc. Now it’s water, water and the foulest temper ever. She keeps saying she has got a permanent headache; “so, take a tablet”, I want to shout back. But no! It’s all got to change so that she can “find her own energy”; I ask you! Apparently, she’s been giving herself artificial highs for too long and now faces a rocky road ahead as she comes down off Coffee Mountain! I think you can safely say we ALL will be facing a rocky road if the past few days are anything to go by!

I’m taking cover now.

Woof Woof

The Tweenies

Yes, I know, the tweenies is that strange phenomenon between childhood and teenagehood when you are no longer a child but not yet a teenager. Advertisers love you. The BBC devotes a whole programme to you. Blah blah blah.

But to me, tweenies means something else altogether.

What do you call those few days between Christmas and New Year? Some of you may be working, some of you may be away for the whole festive break while some of you may be changing location, like the mistress, and returning to your urban life for the New Year. What do you call that time in between? Why the tweenies, of course!

So you can ask your colleagues, friends and families, where were you for Christmas? And New Year? And what about the tweenies?

Anyway, we have returned to the big smoke that is London after our Christmas hols. Apparently, we’ve missed most of the good sales so the tweenies are not quite the bargain fest that the mistress expected. We were too late so you can imagine the cursing happening in our home!

What were your Christmas highlights? Here are just a few:

Avian flu – you’ve all forgotten Avian flu as you tucked into turkey, goose, duck, chicken, partridge, pheasant, basically, anything that flies in this neck of the woods. And what about.. the Turducken, yes, just when you thought you would have to go to a medieval banquet to sample the delights of birds stuffed inside bigger birds, you get the so-called Turducken.

Apparently, it's all the rage this year; yes, in London! Not anywhere else, I can assure you. Wouldn't that have been a Christmas meal par-excellence for the tenacious dog to pinch off the table, just before the family sits down! The London-turned-Dorset chef, Hugh something, something, made it on one of his programmes and I think one of those media types thought, hey, let's start a trend. Question is; will Tesco be doing a value range Turducken next year? I've told the mistress, one bird just isn't enough anymore.

Seeing the mistress happy. She was given the pink bedroom at the end of the house and as she lay there, reading magazines and having tea brought to her room, with me lying on the bed next to her, she declared herself to be "utterly in Heaven". And yes, she did gaze - adoringly - at me! I did think, result, I WILL get a fat Christmas present after all.

Long country walks - even on Boxing Day with the guns going off. Yes, hunting may be banned but shooting is alive and well. They were shooting all day. Luckily, being a sophisticated urban sort of girl, I am not gun shy but I would think you could be easily spooked. Talking of hunting, I see that it has enjoyed a renaissance. Err, is anyone really surprised? From a dog’s perspective, I don't have a problem with it; you get to live with a great bunch of guys together, you run out together, free to roam wherever you like and your owners don't give a toss for the law.

What's the alternative for a lot of dogs? Locked up on your own all day while your master or mistress goes to work, walked on a lead so you can’t go very far, in parks full of restrictions, and generally made to fit in with them. If they've had a night on the town, you can forget your walk the next day! It’s a no brainer!

The British Government has been made to look very foolish indeed about its hunting legislation and people in the countryside feel very strongly about this issue. Personally, if I were trying to win the animal lover’s vote, I would have sorted out intensive farming. That’s far worse! And there’s an alternative; the mistress watched Jimmy’s Farm on TV. He’s a mate of the super chef, Jamie Oliver and he has proved just what free-range living is all about. His pigs have a great life, running around, causing mayhem. I bet his dogs have a ball, too!

Sadly, not such a great life for the cloned dog, Snuppy. Or is it cloned, after all? It seems the world-famous DNA scientist was a fake all along. As was the dog. I think we know what they’ll be doing to poor Snuppy, in the name of science, to prove or disprove the expert’s credentials.

The mistress’ other half, yes, she does have one, although I try to ignore him, keeps threatening me with a trip to Korea if I don’t behave. What can you say? German Shepherd’s Pie, anyone? Pug Pizza? Collie Curry? Or how about Dalmatian Bread Pudding; at least it’s got spots.

Woof Woof