Skip to main content

Week 2: Double Standards or True Love?



Mum has been a lot happier this week.

Mum has apparently made peace with being a little less fit than this time last year.  Mum has also stopped being ill.  Sadly, she has also stopped making all the interesting smells.  I was quite enjoying those.

Mum's first three runs this week all went completely to plan.  This makes Mum happy.  She likes a good plan.  I like a good plan too.  I have lots of plans.  Today I planned to bark at the cats, and I did.  I planned to chew Mum's hat, the one with the very big pom pom, and I did that too.  I also like Mum's plan.  The lovely chewable tasty one which would be so soothing to my poor teething gums.  Mum is still keeping it out of reach.  So out of reach in fact that she can't even see it.  That's OK because she has it committed to memory.  This does beg the question, why not just let your poor little wufflestuff have it?  Apparently this is not going to happen, no way.  We shall see, Mum, we shall see.

Mum was a bit sad/happy about her fourth run of the week, her parkrun.  It was very, very cold and windy.  I can vouch for this because Mum took me out on the park twice yesterday - completely against my wishes I may add - and it was miserable and I made sure to shiver extra hard to make her feel suitable guilty for dragging me out.  If Mum stayed at home with me in the warm in front of the fire her hamstring would have been plenty warm enough, I pointed out, but I'm learning that this is not an option if it's on "the plan".  Mum apparently didn't warm up enough for how cold it was and had to "back off" with a tight hamstring.  I'm sure that's something that I could chew for her if she needs it tenderising.  

That left just her long run today which Mum told me she was dreading.  I was too.  What if she froze?  What if she got lost?  I need Mum and I don't like it when she's out.  Dad was home so to make it clear how much I don't like it when Mum is out I chewed him.  I also chewed the two legged pups and the new sofa.  I am absolutely not meant to chew the new sofa but how else could I show Dad I was worried?  Then I went "three shades of batshit crazy" which I think means a bundle of wonderful puppy fun because I only go "three shades of batshit crazy" when I'm having a fabulous time jumping on and over everything and taking all the little things people leave out for me to play with.  I know they're for playing with, because I can reach them. 

Eventually, almost two hours later, TWO HOURS, Mum came through the door looking remarkably perky and happy.  She hadn't been looking forward to the run, so I was surprised she was so happy.  Then I realised why.  My very clever and beautiful little snout does not lie.  Mum had been rolling in horse poo!  Falling on black ice she said.  Falling, rolling, what's the difference?  I know the rules.  Rolling in horse poo is strictly not allowed, and Mum had been off on her own and rolled in horse poo without me.  I love Mum so I don't understand why she would do this.

Then I realised, of course Mum loves me too!  How could I doubt Mum?  She'd found a horse poo so fantastic she knew she had to bring it home for me.  She was just thinking of me while she was out and missing me like I miss her.  I made sure to lick and nibble all of it off her bum while she tried to undo her trainers with frozen hands.  Then I licked her face and nibbled her ponytail so she knew how much I'd missed her and how much I love her.  I know Mum loves me too because she sat there and accepted all my kisses and just occasionally mumbled "too cold to move" through chattering teeth.

Mum and I are now back together and all wrapped up warm and life is grand.  This next week is apparently the third week of "build up" before Mum has a bit of an easier week.  Mum knows it's going to be tough but is looking quite chirpy about it.  We've been really touched by the sponsorship for the fantastic Vizsla Rescue UK that has been made by friends and strangers.  If you can drop us a couple of quid and you haven't, even just a pound if you can, please do click the big red button at the top and I promise you a massive lick from chin to forehead as a thank you.  From me.  Not Mum. 










Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Week 18: It's long, but then so is a marathon

Today we are celebrating Mum completing Manchester Marathon for Vizsla Rescue. Yesterday we were not celebrating, because Mum left me!  I wuffed Mum up for my morning wee and she didn't come.  How was I meant to go for a morning week without Mum?  Dad came instead, I wasn't sure about this.  Dad is nice, but Dad is not Mum.  I was busting so I did my wee anyway, but it didn't feel quite right. I wuffed in the kitchen and the lounge and the dining room, but Mum wasn't in any of those places.  I consoled myself with taking a pan scrub from the kitchen side and gave it a good chew while I mulled over Mum's absence. While I was wuffing and chewing for Mum, Mum was on the start line of Manchester Marathon feeling cold.  Mum had peeled off all her extra layers and was ready for running now.  I bet she was doing her little cold jiggle that she sometimes does when we have to go out for a poo in the middle of the night and she's only g...
Post a Comment
Read more

Week 15: Mum defeats Gareth Monster by determinedly crashing into him for hours

Mile 14:  After an hour crashing into Gareth, Mum is not giving up.  Sometimes I am very proud of Mum for her Vizsla like traits.  This last week she has shown a number of them.  I think the more tired Mum gets, the more Ginger she is. Mum was very pleased when week 14 was over because week 14 was very windy.  Mum had assumed new week new weather.  She had also assumed she would not get a cold.  Mum was wrong, Mum got a cold.  She was also wrong about the wind, and in the middle of Tuesday night the Gareth Monster turned up right in our back garden!  I wuffed a lot and told Mum how scary he was but she didn't believe me at all. On Wednesday evening when Mum went to her club's speed session she realised quite what a beast Gareth was.  He made things very hard work, and Mum was already quite tired.  She said she fought hard and won the first battle, but not the war.  Gareth was far from vanquished.  As Mum now real...
Post a Comment
Read more

Plans and Schemes, Malt Loaf and Wine

With less than a week to go before training starts Mum has declared her training plan complete.  I did briefly get my jaws on the planner but Mum tricked it off me by dumping the whole pot full of emergency training treats onto the floor in one go.  She also went very pale so I licked her a lot and wagged my tail, which obviously made everything fine.  It's not a complete loss because while Mum's been jealously guarding the precious plan I've repeatedly stolen her favourite boots with the soft furry bits inside which feel soooo good when I shove my nose inside them for a good old chew. I'm still not entirely sure what this marathon thing involves.  Mum is very pleased with her plan, it's covered in post it notes - which I did manage to steal half a pack of - and is colour coded and incredibly neat.  If running a marathon involves lots of neat writing, post it notes and colour coding I am sure Mum will have no problems.  Mum has also stock piled a...
Post a Comment
Read more