Another holiday?

A few years ago my grandma and grandad followed me to where I live and bought a house just round the corner.  They say they just like the area, but I know it was really because they didn’t get to see me everyday.  Anyway, I was quite happy about that because grandad always forgets how many treats he gives me whenever I pop round on my daily walk.  It was all brilliant until I found out how many holidays retired people take!

Doggy Daycare

Why should their holidays bother me you ask?  Well, because that means MY JOINT turns into a doggy daycare when their dog, Lucy the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel moves in with us!

Now don’t get me wrong, Lucy’s not all bad, she’s a bit overly friendly which kind of bugs me, and everyone loves her more than me.  But when no-ones watching we’re pals really.  The problem is, she doesn’t understand my ground rules.  Now it might be because she’s deaf, so she can’t hear me when I tell her the ground rules, but I don’t think that’s any excuse do you?

Jimmy’s ground rules

Everyone that comes into my joint needs to understand my ground rules.

1. I’m top dog.  Any and all attention should be given to me.
2. The sausage treats live on the breakfast bar.  Whenever you walk past the breakfast bar, you need to give me a treat.
3. Walks should be leisurely, relaxing and at my pace and where I want to go.
4. The bed in the workshop is mine.
5. The bed in the dining room is mine.
6. The sofa in the living room is mine.
7. The king size bed upstairs is mine (don’t tell dad).
8. Evenings are for chilling out in a bit of peace and quiet.

Not a relaxing walk

One of the things that really stresses me out is walking with Lucy.

As soon as our harnesses and leads appear, she gets very excited and starts yapping, jumping up and down (which she shouldn’t do with being an old girl with a dodgy hip) and generally being super loud.

It’s a bit of a trigger for me so I start screaming at my dad to tell him she’s being noisy, but that just makes the big red vein in his head seem to pop out more than it normally does.

Normally on a walk I’ll decide where we go and just take it nice and slow so my joints don’t hurt too much.  Lucy runs.  And barks.  And she knows everyone we pass, so we have to stop every five minutes so she can have her tummy tickled.  I don’t want my tummy tickled when I’m out for walks.  I want to walk and make sure that cat who’s trying to take over my turf isn’t hanging around like a a hoodlum.

Space Invader

I don’t think I’ve given Lucy enough credit, as she does understand rule number 2, and she’s very good at exploiting it which I appreciate.

BUT.  THE WORKSHOP BED IS MINE.

See that little purple fleece hanging over the side of my Charley Chau Deeply Dishy bed?  I was wrapped up in that when my dad brought me home and he’s kept it ever since.  I can’t smell my mum any more because it’s been washed lots of times, but every now and again I like to have a bit of a roll around in it.

Now it smells of Lucy, and that’s not a good thing.

Snoring stops me sleeping

Ask anyone if you snore and you probably deny it, right?  Well I don’t snore.  Not one bit.  Lucy does.  She sleeps with her eyes open and snores. Loudly.  On my sofa.

It’s not an enjoyable experience at all.  It tends to be a bit of a race to see who gets to sleep first if I’m honest.  If I can catch the z train before Lucy, then it’s all roses because I’m off in the land of nods playing with my big brother Harry.  But if not, then wow.  She makes a lot of noise for a little dog.

She’s been here for a week and I feel like I’ve barely slept, but my grandma and grandad are back today so I can spend the rest of the day in my bed where I belong. But no doubt she’ll be back again next week when the old folks go on ANOTHER HOLIDAY!