Tuesday, January 01, 2008

A day in the life of.....

What a day this has proven to be from the start. First I wake (on my holidays mind you) at 5:45am. Now those who know me well would know that I wasn't even aware that there was a 5:45am, let alone thought I'd ever see the day when I was wide awake at that hour.

I laid in my bed quietly contemplating if I should take the option of rolling over and trying to get another couple of hours or what else the day may hold for me. I sleepily rolled over and turned the radio on to hear the weather report "It's going to be a 42 degree scorcher today!" Bloody hell. Yep, I was going to get that extra kip time before the heat stopped me from opting for an afternoon Nanna Nap later in the day.

Decisions were taken out of my hands quite quickly. I must have blown my cover by breathing a little too loudly as the pup came bounding down the hall and body slammed my bedroom door open then proceded to eat me alive from my left foot upward.

Legs and arms flailing, I tried desperately to fight off the beast without waking the neighbourhood as giant puppy paws rained down on my head. I sat bolt upright as an enormous tongue was thrust up my nostril, leaving me wide awake and kinda in a bad mood.

I shoved the furball down off my bed and gave her the obligatory morning pats which she normally demands of me while I'm still half asleep on the loo.

Mission accomplished, she races down the hall to maul her older furry sister Sabrina. Commotion breaks out as she is woken from her divine doggy sleep by this moronic dufus chewing on her head. The pup is certainly in for a short life. My only dilemma is I want to be the one who ends it but Sabi is certainly looking to be a good contender for the lynching stakes.

I decided to attempt the unthinkable and take the 2 of them walking together (a feat yet to be attempted in my household without the aid of my daughter and a pocket tazer for the pup). I drag my sorry backside out of bed, cough up the obligatory lung for the day as a reminder, Yes Lis, you do have a chest infection which could bring down a donkey, then made my way to the lead cupboard which is affectionately referred to in our house as The Saddlery.

All hell breaks loose as the two of them realise it's their lucky morning. The front hall is filled with bumbling masses of black and tan dufuses, each fighting for pole position to get out the door. You're an idiot, you know that, I hear in the back of my head.

Yes.... Yes I am...

As a precautionary measure against the inevitable lead pulling from the youngest member of the sled team, I bring out the Halti head harness which to date, she is completely unfamiliar with. I place it on her face, then the fun began.

We headed out the door, a walking circus of yelping, boisterous canines, each more determined than the other to get just that extra nose length in front of her sister. We turn the corner to leave the property when we spot the dear old lady from up the road with her ever-so demure Cocker Spaniel in tow. Horror washes over her face as she sees what she perceives as impending doggy doom heading straight her way.

I smile and tell her not to be afraid. "It's just their early morning sillies they're trying to shake out and they're really quite friendly dogs". Yeah, right! I see on her startled face. She crosses the road to avoid the commotion and we continue on our way, Sabrina singing her heart out as we go, Piper chewing on her neck.

We stop at the pedestrian lights to cross the road (well, duh Lis..). I look over and see a middle-aged business man on the opposite side, waiting to cross. In one impressive hand gesture, I sit the dogs in an attempt to show him that yes, we do go to doggy school. The green man appears and we both start walking to the median strip where we wait for the next green man to allow us to part company.

The commotion begins again. Piper and Sabrina fighting for the unconfirmed attention of this man, both wanting the first pat. He steps back in horror, contemplating his options - walk out in oncoming traffic or stay with these nutters.

"I'm not scared of dogs!" he shrieks. "I'm really not!"

Yes sir, who are you trying to convince here?

"That's great, because they're really quite harmless. They just look scary". He goes to say something in reply when the green man makes his appearance and he races off across the road. Nice work dogs. At this rate, we'll have half the neighbourhood thinking the Hounds of Baskerville are on the loose.

Our walk continues this way with the same routine, horror filled faces, me smiling stupidly, me trying to explain in 10 words or less why they shouldn't be afraid. The same thought which occupies my head on our daily walks comes racing back... I'll bet my right butt cheek that if these two were little Maltese step-ons, this wouldn't be an issue...

Now readers. I'm going to share some German Shepherd tips. I know they had a bad rap back in the 70s and even as recent as the 80s. I know they can kinda look scary to the untrained eye and they are kinda, well... big, but seriously, they're no different from any other dog. They're just in different suits.

Sheps have different barks. If you watch Jim Belushi's K9 series, you'll know what I mean. They're very vocal dogs. My eldest for instance likes to 'sing' for the first 10 minutes of her walk. Embarrassing? Yes. Savage? No. Sheps sing. That's what they do. They also mutter, mumble, grunt and groan. Some just like to do it more often than others.

So how do I know when to be worried with a shep, I hear you ask? Well, the answer is simple. If the ears are back, their body language is crouched and they look ready to run, if you see their front teeth, their lip is curled or you hear a growl, move on and leave the grumpus malumpus alone. If their ears are up and their big woolly tail is swooshing, tongue hanging out, all is good.

Now, as with any breed of dog, I'm not suggesting you go up and pat any Tom, Dick or Harriet's shep you may see in the street. Always ask permission to do so and generally you will be met with a lot of appreciation from the owner for not running off down the street screaming like the last passer-by did.

And thus endeth the sermon....