Mummy at the School Gate

He's only, bleeding well done it again!!  PeeWee...I mean.  He's eaten his bed, yet again!  You'd think that now he's grown (in dog years, I'm guessing he's about 10), he'd have come to terms with what he can and can't chew, but this is now getting ridiculous.  I'm loathe to chuck all the beds out as poor old Chubba would have to sleep on the cold hard floors and the poor old boy has difficulty enough raising himself from the floor as it is. Poor old Chubba shouldn't have to suffer because Pee Wee is a sh*te!! He's chewed his plastic bed to buggery and his "bruva from anuva muva's" bed, but that's old news.  PeeWee's Bed I'd hoped that he'd have gotten over it by now.  It's not as if he doesn't get enough romps in the park...he does and if he doesn't he soon tells me all about it! Apart from taking his lovely gnashers out, I'm not sure there is a thing I can do about it.  It's no use t

After spending the past 2 hours in the garden clearing away the winter debris I came across a lot of poo (very clearly Bart hadn't done his naughty chore!), scattered all over the lawn!!  I have no idea who is the culprit, but Chubba has been trained to "go" in the bushes, so I have to assume the Peewee is to blame (very clearly Chubba is not doing his job either!!), unless we have a great Dane visiting! I wouldn't mind so much if it was to the side of the lawn near the borders, but as I was walking over to the veg garden I must have stepped into about 10 pats...which were the size of a cow or at the very least, the size that I assume that the visiting great Dane would do!!!  They are massive!  As you can see, from my exclamation marks, I'm in shock. Peewee is half the size of Chubba.  The bag I collected from the garden must weigh more than Peewee, himself. In fact I can honestly say that the bag was bigger than Peewee. BH told me that there was a lot of poo,

Peewee has settled in nicely and gets on very well with Chubba. Chubba plays with him like a doting grandfather and although it's nice to see, I just wish they wouldn't play fight near my feet. If I move into another room, they chase after my feet and tumble and flail, with gnashing teeth and deep throaty growls. I know they're enjoying themselves, but my poor feet seem to be the focal area for their games! This morning whilst I was emptying the teapot, Peewee tangled himself between my legs. Now, if I had been younger, lighter and fitter, I would have been able to simply hop over him and nimbly land on my two feet...unfortunately I landed on my knees! Collapsing into a heap, the pain and nausea was too much to bear and I lay face down moaning, with lovely loyal Chubba kissing/licking my face, trying (I believe) to revive me. Peewee had scuttled off to a corner and sat watching. BH heard the grunts (it's how he described it!), and came running into the kitchen sh

Its been three weeks since Peewee (aptly named by Mimi), joined our household, and he's settled in as though he's always been here. Chubba has taken him under his paw, and together they make forays into the garden, sniffing, doing their business and "reading the papers" as my ma says. They make a handsome couple and Peewee is never far from Chubba's watchful eye. Persuading BH to get Peewee, was easy. "Chubba will teach him the rules" was one persuasion. "It will teach the kids a sense of responsibility" was another. Walking him won't be a problem as I always do it anyway, and in my own weird way I plan to train him with love, after all I've potty trained 3 kids and never lost my temper. I know, I know, like kids dogs and puppies need to know the boundaries, they need to know how far they can push and they need to know who's boss...and it isn't me! Peewee has me feeding him by hand. He just won't chow on down like m

Yesterday morning I decided that the chaos at home deserved more attention than my attire. The school bags had been lost and the packed lunches hastily cobbled together. The shopping hadn't been done this week because the new puppy couldn't be left on his own...and anyway I didn't want him destroying the relatively new kitchen!! As usual, Miriam (au-pair) was lazing in her pit, while Armageddon was close to destroying her slumber. She was planning on visiting 82 year old Mrs B down the road to do some cleaning and needed to get some well needed rest before the onslaught of cups of teas and more rest. Now I've seen Mrs B's house, and I know for a fact that no cleaning gets done. I've told her she's taking money under false pretences and I've told Mrs B to make her earn her money, but it all falls on deaf ears. Mrs B thinks Miriam is a sweet girl (she is), and she needs a rest from us! Miriam thinks Mrs B is a sweet old lady who only really needs a