clearly blow-jobs just don’t hold much sway these days

as when I got home from the country (minus two children) Charlie was gone.

Coco was beside herself.

Don’t blame her.
Probably felt all cheap, used and dirty on the inside.

Chef said he was there this morning, which would have been at around 6am.
I got home (minus two children… oh I said that already…) at 11.47.
Tops.
The dog-washer had arrived around 9.30 and they were both there (she didn’t wash them as I’d forgotten she was coming, mum was at physio and she couldn’t get in to the garage to set-up).
OK.
So basically there was about two hours that Charlie could have been raising hell around the neighbourhood.
And people, not wanting to aid the stalkers, but we live between a lake AND an ocean, so it’s really like hell-raising heaven for a dog in terms of its potential.

As I got back in the car to trawl the streets looking for the stupid dawg, I just knew I wasnt’ going to find him. The ducks on the lake all just looked too calm.

Mum was all ‘I’ll ring the pound’ and I was all ‘he’s adorable, stupid, bouncy and cute, he’s not going to be at the pound’.
So I rang our vet.
I say ‘our vet’ loosely as we’re the type of recalcitrant pet owners who recognise the vet’s vaccination reminder notices in the mail and promptly ignore them with great finesse.
I say ‘we’re’ loosely as this is totally and completely and 100 per cent my husband’s responsibility* and one I am sure he will shirk to the children** as soon as such a delegation can be followed through.
Which on my calculation means the dogs will get their next vaccination sometime in 2017 when Felix is allowed to drive.
Anyway, I rang the vet.
And as the woman who answered the phone started to take our details to add us to the ‘lost list’, I mentioned that Charlie would be on their system but probably as Spiro, as that was what he was originally called. When Felix wanted to call him Spiro for a month, then Charlie for a month, then back to Spiro and so on and so forth. Bless. Anyway, Spiro lasted about three months and then Felix announced he was now called Charlie and Charlie he has remained. No wonder the dog is so freakin’ dopey.
And as she asked me how to spell it, the embodiment of vet nurses*** in the background chimed in ‘wait wait wait, he’s here.’
Some weird dog-lover very kind person had seen him wandering the street and realising his stupidity lack of road sense picked him up and took him to the vet.
While I am eternally grateful to this stranger, let it be known that I will never ever stop my car, cajole a roaming dawg into said vehicle and transport it to the nearest veterinarian. Ever.
So, I feed the baby, feed the toddler and take the toddler to go and collect the dawg.
Such a great idea except for the two eleventy gagillion forms I have to fill in which gives Jasper the perfect opportunity to pull whole rows of dog collars off their display, break the bottom off the refrigerator unit holding various dog foods and collect 500 pamphlets on how to best worm the cat.
And can someone explain to me why with the advent of compulsory micro-chipping, which puts your dumb domesticated albatross pet on a national registry is it still necessary to register your pet with your local council – which merely puts you on another this time state-based registry – for a princely sum of 40 effing bucks every effing year?
Wait, don’t explain it, you’ll just make me more cranky.
Because while I am eternally grateful someone picked Charlie up and took him to the vet, the vet is an agent for the council pound and the whole effing exercise cost ONE HUNDRED effing dollars.
Stupid dog.

Once he was home he has basically slept the entire time and whenever he has attempted to chase birds/leave the deck Coco just bites him on the leg, clamping down hard and he promptly returns to his place of rest.

What a woman.

* as most of my loyal readers will attest to as on the arrival of said puppies which triggered all manner of breakdowns on my part he was heard to utter, ‘you won’t have to do a thing poppet, I will look after them’.
** as he has done with the picking up of dog poo in the backyard – an example of the supreme delegation skills he has clearly inherited from his father… who’s ability to delegate is widely acknowledged by family and friends.
*** this woman is one of those types – all earnest and a complete animal NUTJOB – who knows everyone (she freakin’ remembered Charlie from PUPPYSCHOOL TWO YEARS AGO) and their pets and does a hundred things at once which confuses all the other staff around her but she knows EXACTLY what is going on and where.