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  • John Newstead

Robin's dog blog - part 9

Updated: Apr 1, 2020

Diary of a Lhasa Apso – Part 9 - May 2017

Dad decided to get me and Toby together for some cat/dog sibling treats today. Both of us sat nicely on the kitchen floor next to each of other while Dad held up two pieces of chicken, one for me and the other for Toby. It was an uncharacteristically calm affair with no violence of any kind. Dad placed both pieces of chicken on the floor and I scoffed mine down instantly. Toby picked his piece up and put it down again, so I got my face in there and ate his chicken too. Toby was then given a replacement piece of chicken while I was physically restrained, but on release I carried out a thorough sniff of the area, only to receive a smack in the face from Toby. Unfair! However, the very next day me and my cat bro had a rare moment of affection. Maybe he loves me after all.

Some people like to collect stamps while others are attracted to antiques or model cars. I have become an avid collector of stones. I have several different types, all collected from the garden, and stored in various places for future enjoyment. I like the noises stones make when I roll them around my mouth, and the loud noises Mum makes when I put them on the floor when she’s not wearing any shoes. A particularly fabulous noise is the clicking sound a stone makes when I sneak one into the washing machine.

I’ve spent an exhausting day with my bestie, Bruno, jumping, running, rolling about and chasing. But there was some slightly worrying stuff too. Bruno likes to pin me down and do thrusting movements, a bit like I do with my cuddly lover, Mrs Bunny. I really like Bruno a lot, but I’m not altogether happy about being his Mrs Bunny. Afterwards we chilled out in the garden together. I might do that later on with Mrs Bunny when I get back home.

The word ‘groomer’ has been banded about recently, and yesterday Dad took some photos of me because ‘I won’t look like that tomorrow.’ Confusing stuff. And then today happened, and it has been the worst day ever. Mum popped me into the car. A bit early for walkies in the woods I thought as we sped off in an unusual direction. Out of the car we jumped, but no signs of woodland; just houses and pavements, and then a red brick house, not altogether unlike ours, but this house had a picture of a dog on the front wall. Mum knocked on the door and we were greeted by a nice lady who seemed pleased to see me. And then mum left me alone with the lady, but all wasn’t as it seemed because this woman was some sort of psychopath with scissors and an electric razor. She was The Groomer!

I was scarred stiff, so much so that after The Groomer had snipped around my face and given my feet a buzz cut, she had to call Mum back to collect me because I was shaking too much. She thought it unwise to continue in case I was too frightened to come back. Come back? Seriously? Ain’t no way that’s ever going to happen!

Walkies took on a whole new panoramic hugeness today when I experienced the beach for the first time. But first we embarked on a longer than usual car journey, a full six miles down the road to Happisburgh, which is easier said that typed. The beach was an enormous sandy expanse with loads of pebbles, but it was the sea that surprised me most. Like the biggest puddle in the world only bigger. Water as far as I could see going right up to the sky and with funny little foamy bits chasing up the beach.

The sand was great for running along and I teased the sea a little by running up to it, but the sea was in a playful mood and it soon chased me and wet my feet. After all that running about I was feeling a little thirsty so decided to try some sea but it had been seriously over seasoned. Yuck.

I’ve been gardening with Mum – she did some digging, so I tried that and was good at it. Mum then planted some tasty looking green plants, so did some more digging and a bit of nibbling, but the green plants weren’t as tasty as they looked. At this point Mum decided to put a stick in the lawn and attach me to it via my extendable 5m lead, which meant I could run about a bit without causing any more gardening havoc. Toby then arrived on the scene and sat smugly precisely 5.1m away from me. Annoying.

My cat brother, Toby’s favourite sport is fly catching. He’s pretty good at it too, even though he often breaks things in the process. But he’s not as fearless as you might think when it comes to stripy flies. For some reason he seems really scared them. Today I thought I’d impress Toby with my fly swatting skills in the garden when a really fat stripy fly slowly buzzed into view. I jumped up purposefully and took a swipe at it, then tried to bite it before taking another swipe. Mum tried to stop me, but she was too late because the stripy fly attacked me and stung me on the side of my face. I yelped in pain and tried desperately to scratch the pain away, but to no avail, so Mum called the vets and took me straight in for an injection. Mum said the stripy fly was a B but I’d have called it something much worse than that.

That's it for another Robin's dog blog. See you next time.



Missed my previous dog blogs? Catch up from the beginning

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