Robin's dog blog - part 12
Updated: Apr 1
Hello to all my readers and welcome to Part 12 of Robin's Dog Blog. Before continuing with all the usual stuff about me getting into various types of trouble, here's a picture of me looking cute. No reason. Just a cute Robin photo to kick off with.
There’s been a happy event in our family – the arrival of Tom and Beth’s little baby, Alfie, born at 6.30am this morning. I must confess that I don’t understand any of what I've just said but I’m sure all will become clear. All I can say right now is that Mum and Dad seem really pleased but, confusingly, they are calling themselves Granny and Grandad, and me Uncle Robin. I really hope I work out what’s going on very soon.
We’ve been to see Tom, Beth and my best mate Bruno, but they already had a guest. A really tiny little small person called Alfie. That’s when the penny dropped and I realised that a baby is a small person. And a really tiny little small person at that. I wasn’t allowed a sniff – just a small peep. I think me and Alfie could be mates – I’ll bring a ball next time so we can have a kick about in the garden.
It was an unscheduled bath time for me this evening after a walk in the woods following some heavy rain. I love walks in the woods, but the presence of muddy paths was an unexpected bonus. I had a great time splashing around. It was just a shame about the bath when we got home. I don’t think I needed one.
Tom, Beth and Alfie the small person have been round to our house today. I will concede that Alfie is very cute, but I’m getting the distinct feeling that everyone thinks he’s cuter than me. That can’t possibly be the case but I will be monitoring the situation very carefully. I will also be monitoring Alfie the small person statistically. Here are the present, highly unsatisfactory scores.
Number of times Alfie the small person has thrown a ball for me – 0
Number of times Alfie the small person has given me a treat – 0
Mobile phone wallpaper photos of me replaced with Alfie the small person – 1
Sniffs of Alfie the small person I have been permitted – 0
Mum and Dad have been redecorating the kitchen and I’ve surprised everyone by mostly staying out of the way and only walking into a couple of wet doors. Regular readers may recall that my wooden bed (formerly Toby’s but now mine) suffered from some nibbling damage a few months back, so Dad carried out a repair, cutting a nice smooth curve to remove the damaged area and painting it a fetching shade of dark grey. Unfortunately some of the paint fell off the corner and I was wrongly accused of another nibbling crime. This is the face of an innocent mutt.
Robin’s tip of the day. When out and about with your dog parents (other types of walkies companion are available) avoid jumping up and biting full poo bags. I did this and got a face full of my own poo. Sadly by tomorrow I will have completely forgotten this tip and will probably end up with another poo face.
I am completely and utterly distraught. One of my favourite toys, a squeaky but nameless squirrel, has lost its squeak. But the situation got worse. Dad had a look and decided that my squirrel was unrepairable. But if that wasn’t bad enough things took an even more desperate turn when Mum put my squirrel in the bin. Needless to say, I was devastated.
Robin’s tip of the day. When out and about with your dog parents (other types of walkies companion are available) avoid jumping up and biting full poo bags as I did this evening. I've just had an odd feeling of deja vu.
My squirrel has been resurrected. He’s back from the dead and looking like new, with the most perfectly squeaky squeak and his very own orange Sainsbury’s bag. Doesn’t smell right but that’s probably something he rubbed up against in the bin. Dad wants to call him Jesus, but mum says that would be inappropriate.
Dad’s in big trouble when Mum gets home. He put a mug of coffee on top of my cage but it fell over and spilled into the cage and all over my rope toy, cuddly donut and Mr Fox. I’m not impressed with the situation at all with all three of my toys currently drying outside and my cage smelling like Starbucks.
I have established some new rules of ownership. Anything that’s left lying around that I like the look of and decide to place in my toy box belongs to me forever. My latest acquisition is a duster
There’s been some extreme gardening going on at our house today. Mum and Dad, helped by their digger mate Steve, have been levelling the driveway. When they’d finished doing that I got involved and dug a hole. In the drive. Which wasn’t level anymore. Oops.
I’ve been a bit worried that Alfie the small person may actually be cuter than me. So I now have a brand new accessory. Robin + blue cravat = cuteness overload. I think I’ve got this cuteness thing in the bag.
Sometimes my short term memory isn’t very sharp. What was I saying? Oh yes, I remember. I get very excited and jumpy when Mum and Dad come home from work and today was no exception. Unfortunately I’d forgotten all about the fact I’d been a bit sick earlier and I may have jumped up and down excitedly when mum came home. In my sick. Another unscheduled bath time!
OMG. Dad’s a magician. Honestly, I was amazed by this – Dad made one of my tennis balls disappear and then reappear inside a wellington boot with Mrs Bunny. Some say there were two balls and he put the first one behind his back, but that’s rubbish. This is proper magic.
There’s been an incident involving my cat brother Toby. He was shut indoors this morning after being in all night, and when we got home I was overjoyed when Mum angrily told me that he’d done a poo, because that’s the sort of thing I’m normally in trouble for. However, my initial pleasure soon turned to outrage when I discovered the full magnitude of the situation – Toby had pooed in my bed. My bed! Where am I supposed to sleep until my bed has been washed and dried, apart from my other bed, Toby’s bed (which is now my third bed), the sofa, the other sofa, or my various snoozing chairs?
Some people are so ungrateful. I should be celebrated as a super hero dog after saving Toby from certain peril this morning. He’s in charge when up against either of the boy cats from Number 21, but he regularly gets beaten up by the girl cat at number 17. So when I heard a familiar girl-cat screech this morning I dashed outside to find Toby cornered. I fearlessly chased off the offender to save the day but when I returned to Toby and gave him a friendly sniff just to make sure he was ok I got a slap round the face. Charming. I’d be even more annoyed if I could recall why I was angry with him yesterday.
Tom, Beth and Alfie the small person have been round. Alfie had a very leisurely lunch. Half an hour to be exact. I’d have downed that in half a second. Far more importantly I’d been hoping for a kick about with Alfie, but he didn’t seem keen. After finally completing his lunch Alfie had a bath in the kitchen sink, which is where most of my baths taken place. Dad popped my stylish blue cravat on so I would be the undisputed king of cuteness, but Alfie donned his routemaster bus onesie. Noooooooooooooooo, too cute Alfie! I’ve been out-cuted again.
Thanks for reading my dog blog - see you again soon.
Lots of love