Wingo's World

Heard dad talking to that black plastic thing again today - think he calls it a phone - anyway, pretty sure he's going mad chatting to it.

He said something about me being nearly perfect now, and a far cry from the messed-up, scared doggy I was when he first got me from the rescue. I felt kinda proud, but also annoyed - messed-up, how dare he.

I'll tell you what messed up is - dad - sitting at a table all day screwing bits of paper up into balls, then swearing about his bleeping maths. Most people go to work five days a week but dad seems to avoid it like the plague. He justifies his laziness to everyone by spouting the words "study" and "degree".

Degree, ha. He never gets his backside to uni - always checks in via the internet to watch the recordings of lectures he's missed.

Anyway, today I was awesome. I ate a whole load of leaves, then came back into the house and barfed the lot up, just for dad.

Dad was pleased as I did it on the tiled floor and not the rug.

Since he seemed to appreciate this, I'll do my best to present him a leaf stew whenever I get the chance.

Dad was funny today - he heard there was a big storm coming, so he hid the bird table, then moved the car away from the house in case any tiles came down.

The car is fair enough, but a bird table in the house is kind of mad. We don't even have a parrot.

Heard dad saying he wanted my foster brother to live here permanently as well - seems dad is very taken with Captain Weeman, who is a little, older staffy who assaults dad every morning by doing a flying leap onto him when he's sleeping, and giving him a huge wake-up lick.

I know why Weeman does this - it's not cos dad tastes good - it's cos Weeman needs a wee.

It would be good if Weemsy could live here and not go to a new home as he's really wise and doesn't irritate me or try to be dominant, although he does like to sit on top of me when I'm hiding under my duvet. I find that really annoying as he seems to almost jump up and down on me, just because he can.

Time to go to bed now - I thought it was half twelve but dad said something about the clocks going back yesterday.

Not sure what he's on about. All the clocks are still here.

Sleep well.

Love, Wingo.

Yo. Wassup.
I can't sleep, so I'm going to recount my tale of yesterday.

Some woman knocked on the door around lunch time and asked if we wanted to go to the park.

The proper park. Not the bit of green dad takes me to.

So, off we went - me and Weemsy taking it in turns in the hatchback to pull faces at the people behind.

When we got there, I was shocked at how many dogs there were. And how big the boating lake was.

Weemsy wasted no time in getting stuck in - all I could see was a bobbing head. Then loads of other dogs piled in. It looked like a proper pool party.

But I'm not daft. I stuck a paw in and could tell it was freezing. So I watched from the side.

Weemsy must have thought I was missing out though because he ran up to me as soon as he climbed out of his swimming pool and did a huge shake, covering me.

Then we went and got some food. I have decided I am awesome at helping dad finish his meals.

Then we all went on a little train. I mean, seriously, WTF.

Travelling along at 2mph, in an open-sided mini-train, with the wind, er, rushing through my hair. Yeah, born to be wild. That's me.

After that, we climbed a grassy bank. I was expecting more boring human stuff like trains, but there was actually a massive park.

I mean, massive. Like, as far as the eye could see. Big enough to get to America. Honest.

Weemsy and me were let off lead and, man, did we run around. Weemsy might be a bit old and look like he needs a zimmerframe but he's quicker than me. And I'm no slouch.

So, all the humans could see was two speed blurs. Awesome stuff.

To top it off, when some more people came into view, I did my bestest ever poo. It looked like the Leaning Tower of Pooza.

Dad did his awkward shuffle, then his one-handed bag trick and scooped my sculpture up before anyone could pull a face.

Then I met these funny little humans - children or something.

Lol, they're tiny, and they do funny hand movements and gestures whenever I go near them.

One of them did this funny dance. His mum said he does it when he's excited. Funny, cos I wasn't doing anything at that point - only trying to sniff him.

After that, dad went to KFC and got this ridiculous bucket with 20 bits of chicken in it and some popcorn chicken. And that was just for him. Fat sod, though he did leave about 20 fries.

We got the posh tinned dog food that only comes out on special occasions. Normally we get kibble and el cheapo meat but dad must have been feeling generous.

We finished that, and I went for a kip, but I know Weemsy went under the table looking for human scraps.

Dad sometimes calls him the little troll under the bridge as he's perfectly silent - just that a little head sometimes pops out from underneath.

It's raining heavily here now and dad's trying to get me and Weemsy to go out. Weemsy's usually up for that but even he's saying no chance tonight.

Dad just threatened to put us in nappies for tonight.

Wassup, peeps.
Mad fun day today.

Once the wind had stopped, dad took Weemsy and me out to go foraging for fallen branches, as chasing sticks is our favourite game.

We went into the end of the woods where the small trees are and dad let us get on with it.

We were only gone five minutes before we came back with a giant tree. The size of the Empire State Building, it was. Honest.

Dad jumped up and down on it for a bit until he made two massive sticks out of it. One each.

Weemsy and me spent the next hour running up and down the fields playing fetch.

I have to give Weemsy credit - he can carry sticks twice his size. I'm still learning. I grab it by the end, which makes it awkward. Weemsy just grabs it in the middle and balances it perfectly.

But he's a million years older than me, so he's had lots of practice.

Once we'd finished with the sticks and reduced them to small bits of wood, dad took us into the proper woods.

We met a lady with three spaniels.

One of them was really naughty. he was even older than Weemsy and looked like he had no teeth, but that didn't stop him biting me on the bum once I'd walked past him.

Didn't hurt though, so na na nanana.

Dad's face was a picture - he couldn't believe this ancient spaniel had tried to have a pop at me.

About half an hour later, when we were back in the fields again, we met a hooooooooooooge German Shepherd girl.

Man, she was massive.

We did on-lead introductions and her owner said she was really friendly.

Well, she was. Her and Weemsy seemed to be having a coochy coo. I nearly told them to go get a room.

Then we were all let off lead and she joined in our games - we'd found more sticks by then.

She wouldn't go back to her owner, though - she wanted to stay with us, which would have been cool as she's a good laugh, but where would she have slept? She was the size of my whole crate.

As it was starting to get dark, dad took Weemsy and me home - we carried our sticks to the edge of the field but dad wouldn't let us take them any further. He said the back garden was already full of plundered treasure from our walks (Weemsy loves taking things home with him. If he came back as a bird in the future, he'd be a magpie, I reckon).

Back in now for a kip while we wait for dinner. Dad always makes us wait for 90 minutes after a walk before feeding us.

Don't think much of that idea. I'm hungry now.

Weemsy and me playing ball - he always gets there first but I like to try to borrow it while he's running.

Yayyy.

Weemsy and me found a stream that dad didn't know existed.

He does now.

We both came back covered in sticky clay or, as dad called it, poo.

Was awesome. I smelled like a fox and Weemsy did too. Proper perfume.

Dad said I looked like a tramp's sidekick. I just said ahem and reminded him he hasn't shaved for over a month. Trampy paps.

We looked so stinky that when we went back to the park, a woman with two small dogs literally ran away. And that was with us on leads.

All you could see were two balls of poo on legs. T'was awesome.

Weemsy didn't mind having a bath - even when dad swiped his legs to dunk him right under the water.

I should have gone before Weemsy. Going after him just meant I got anxious.

Dad had to wrestle me into the bath - I wasn't going in easily - and ended up covered in poo himself. I was in there about an hour, honest.

Dad cleaned the poo off the walls and said nothing, but I'm sure my dinner is about 20% light tonight.

What else? Oh yeah. Dad bought these bacon treats for us that smelled so much of bacon that dad actually ate half of one to see what they were like.

He reckons they're just like the real thing.

Definitely surpassed myself today.

I was great passing some German Shepherds in the woods today (so was Weemsy), so dad let us off lead further on.

When we came back two minutes later, I was totally covered in poo. We found a new muddy stream that's 90% mud and 10% water.

So, I rolled round in it for a bit.

Weemsy didn't, and dad rolled the red carpet out for him - talk about preferential treatment when it came to getting the best sticks and the dinner with the most spuds and chicken.

I had to go in the bath again - dad said he wasn't using shampoo on me this time as he didn't want to wash the oils out of my skin.

To be honest, after an hour in the bath, I still smell of poo.

Dad even took my duvet away and replaced it with an old blanket.

Hmm. I've done it this time.

I'm the world's best poo-roller but you don't seem to win any prizes for it.

What else?

Oh yeah, dad decided to get back into weight training.

I was treated to the sound of creaking for half an hour - dad's bones, not the weights. I reckon I could lift more than him if there was a treat in the offing.

Strange thing is, dad complains if I bark when the postie sticks stuff through the letterbox - well, let me tell you, dad was making enough noise under that bar to scare the trick or treaters away.

Maybe that was his plan.

Hmm.

It must have worked though because no one called - no one.

I'm off to my blanket bed now. Weemsy's got his nice 14 tog double duvet to roll up in.

No fair. I'm the poo champion when all's said and done.

Yours, Winglebear Humperdink.

It's well lobbing it down here with rain today.

Dad asked if we wanted walkies but Weemsy and me just hid under our bed clothes, pretending we didn't hear him.

We're off to KFC in the car shortly though, so can't escape the rain forever.

I know dad's put Kongs stuffed with a treat in the freezer. I can't wait.

It was a bit parky chibbly today, so dad decided we were going out in winter coats.

I wore my Danish Designs quilted jacket in Sherlock Holmes colours - quite fetching, spiffing, even.

Weemsy - hahahaha - dad gave him a doggy fleece which looked like a night gown on him because he's so small.

He nearly punched me because I called him Weemsy Willy Winky all the way to the park.

Just to get his own back, he ran into the stream with it on, lol, dad was yelling at him to "come here" but Weemsy just jumped up and down in it for a bit.

Then dad met a friend he hasn't seen in years, so we ended up just standing there talking for about half an hour. If Weemsy and me weren't on leads by that point, we'd have just gone home.

Talk about boring - chatting about parabolic curves for satellite dishes. Get a life dad.

Woohoo - out at the crack of dawn today.
Reckon dad must have wet the bed or something. Lol.

Trouble found me as usual - I dived off into the woods, out of dad's view, and came back brown again.

He called me bogbrush for the rest of the day.

Weemsy was in stitches laughing.

Talking of stitches, a bit of miscommunication today while playing fetch the smelly old half-eaten and chewed ball meant Weemsy sunk his ancient teeth into the fleshy part of dad's hand.

Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill - a bit of blood and dad was running round like an extra in a knife-slasher movie.  

He felt so poorly, he went to tesco and bought a bottle of Jack Daniels, a stick of french bread and some ham.

I helped him with the ham.

He helped himself to half the JD, then promptly fell asleep.

I worry about dad sometimes - old git.

Out up the park in the early afternoon today.
A couple of hundred school kids used it as a shortcut after school at 3pm.

Some of them started lobbing sticks and stuff at me and Weemsy.

I could see dad's lip curl like it does when he's p***ed at something, but he didn't say anything - he said you can never win in that situation as they'd all go screaming to their mums if he opened his mouth and PC Plod would be called.

So, we left them to it and went to a new woods quite a way away from where we normally go.

I hit the jackpot again - more mud and stuff to roll round in - dad again called me BogBrush and had a wrestle with me when we got home, with a wet towel.

Dad won. Brown stuff removed.

Weemsy, of course, was on his best behaviour after biting dad by mistake yesterday, so he didn't roll around in anything.

He just trotted in front of dad like a prancing horse for an hour, scoring bonus points.

Didn't get him anywhere though - we both got the same-size tea, and dad has given me my duvet back after my epic poo roll a few days ago.

All good.

Not one of my finer moments.

Instead of getting under my doggy duvet in my crate, I got into its cover instead.

Then got stuck.

So, I came to find dad, trapped inside my duvet cover. I looked like a brown and white stripey ghost.

Took dad a couple of minutes to fish me out as I'd got into a right knot.

He said he's buying needle and thread tomorrow and sewing it up as I've bust the buttons.

At least I got some extra treats on account of being a bit panicky after getting stuck.

Silly me.   

Full of the joys of spring today, even if it's winter.

I did the full-on tucked bum terrier play thing round and round in circles today, to everyone's amusement at the park.

Weemsy looked at me like I'd gone daft but I was just so happy to find a quiet park to play in today.

No poo rolling today - just an hour and a half chasing and eating sticks, while Weemsy played fetch with a ball.

We were both tired out as it got dark, so came home and went straight to our crates.

Dad says he doesn't see much of us any more - we prefer our crates to lying around on the lounge rug, or dozing on the sofa.

Minced beef and kibble for tea tonight. Dad said there's possibly some horse in there as well. I hope he was joking.

Have been in my crate with Weemsy all day today.
Dad keeps trying to coax us out but it's nice in here - nice and warm as dad hasn't turned the heating on for winter yet.
He does look odd sat there in a coat in the house.
Tightwad.

Lovely walkies today - I got to chew a huge stick - one of those massive ones no one thinks a dog can handle.

Well, I showed everyone - I did a parade lap of the park boundary with it in my mouth - getting the hang of balancing big sticks now.

Weemsy played fetch the smelly old half eaten ball with dad for an hour or so - he is so fit, it's unreal.

Then dad surprised us by taking us on a huge walkies along a cycle path which dogs are also allowed to use - we walked a long way - nearly into the town centre, and back.

When we got home, some tw** (I learned that word from dad) let off some mega loud fireworks right outside the house. One of them hit a neighbour's car - he's about 18 stone - I wouldn't want to p**s him off - but luckily for the fireworkers, he was out.

Poor Weemsy got the shock of his life - I jumped, but he jumped even higher. He did a wee on the dining room floor, that's how scared he was.

Dad went outside but they legged it - dad thinks they were aiming at the houses on purpose, like happened a few years ago.

Weemsy is now in his crate, in his duvet, with the radio on and chewing a nice frozen treat. He was shaking for a bit - I was quite surprised as I thought he was the bravest doggy in the world - guess every dog has something they're scared of though. Mine's the bath after I've been rolling in green poo.

Poor Weemsy. I'm going to keep an eye on him from my crate once I finish my treat, too.

Had my first bit of bull terrier prejudice today.

I was minding my own business chewing a big stick in the park, when a couple and their daughter came into view.

They walked all along the path then, for some reason, cut straight onto the park towards us - in the middle of nowhere.

I wasn't sure where they were going or why they walked right up to us as the whole rest of the park was abandoned.

But the young girl shouted "doggies", then her dad picked her up and put her on her shoulders while her mum said we were horrible dogs and would eat her.

She burst into tears. I kept eating my stick, Weemsy kept chewing his play ball, and no one went near them.

But they were staring at us with real mean faces. dad asked if there was a problem and they just made a "hmphh" sound and walked off.

Strange people.

Dad said not to worry, they were just stupid. I agree. Why make your child burst into tears like that?

Anyway, we went into the woods after that and, when we came back out, our friend, a big German Shepherd, was out.

So we said hello. Then a brown labrador came along who is also friends with the German Shepherd.

I hadn't met him before and he started barking - he had a huge bark.

I didn't know what the bark meant, so I did some play bows, then started barking myself.

He stopped barking - his owner said I was the first dog ever to out-bark him.

I don't usually bark but he seemed to want a competition.

Weemsy didn't bark at all - he was too busy doing all his staffy tricks to get treats from the German Shepherd's owner.

He walks on his back legs to get more treats - he's learned that party trick really well, even though dad never taught him.

What else? oh yeah. I finally got the hang of that "paw" thing last night for a treat.

Weemsy does it all the time, so I learned from him. Took a while.

I don't see the point in it. I mean, I got treats before dad started asking for paw, so why learn now?

Much less effort for dad just to hand all the treats out in one go, without any "paw". But, no, he's decided to dish them out one by one while I wave a front leg in the air.

Humans are strange.

I continue to gather proof that humans are strange.

We went out in the wet today and both me and Weemsy got filthy.

But when we got home, dad only cleaned me - because I'm white, so it shows.

But Weemsy, who is brindle, was equally as dirty - you just couldn't see it - and dad didn't clean him down.

So, why do I keep getting attacked by the doggy towel?

There is no logic in this dad human.

We had our first ever salmon fillet today - dad dropped one near the cooker, so washed it under the tap, then cooked it and gave it to us doggies.

I have to say, I quite fancy being a cat for a week - salmon is delicious.

Dad ate some cheese and an avocado. Lol. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Until I realised he has a stash of this salmon stuff in the freezer - some dude with "Tesco" on his jacket keeps delivering it to the front door.

Must find out how to summon the Tesco man - me and Weemsy could save up for our own freezer, then call him whenever we fancy some of this salmon.

A new wood to explore today.

Dad encouraged Weemsy and me to go and find some sticks, so we did.

Weemsy came back with a huge log and I tried to come back with a tree.

The only problem was the tree was still in the ground, so when dad found me, I was swinging from it by my teeth.

He said I looked like a hairy flag dangling there.

As luck would have it, I soon found myself back on the ground again, as the branch snapped, giving me a lovely fresh stick to play with.

I had great fun, running through the woods with it, disappearing from dad's view, only to reappear in his rear view mirrors, then wipe his legs out with the stick as I raced past.

We eventually came to the back entrance to a school and I was naughty and raced in - loads of those funny little humans with spots everywhere - dad calls them teenagers - were playing football, so I tried to join in.

Wow, dad called loudly. Loudly enough for me to know I was in trouble, so I put on my invisible dog suit and crawled back to him, like a snake with feet.

It didn't fool dad. He put me back on a lead. In the middle of walkies.

No fair.

Then Weemsy decided he needed the stick in dad's hand, so started jumping up, higher and higher, until he was at dad's face level.

Ok, this isn't difficult, as dad is like a midget, but it got everyone who could see laughing. He looked like he was on a trampoline.

We walked back to our usual park, where we met a boxer who was cool, and a big cross-breed, who gave me the evil eye, so I stayed away. He looked mega scary.

Weemsy pretended not to see him and just ran round dad's legs instead, trying to remain looking "cool".

Didn't really work - we were both very nervous and doing windy tummy smells.

Speaking of windy tummy smells, Weemsy sneaked up to dad's room last night at about 4am and tunneled under the duvet.

I followed Weemsy and managed to get as far as the pillow, then dived under the duvet from the top end.

Dad wasn't amused but said we could stay if we went straight to sleep.

Well, we did.

Except one of us had a windy tummy and filled the duvet with green mustard gas.

The way dad was acting, you'd think he was in the trenches in world war one.

Wasn't that bad - just some doggy farts - but dad likes to over-react.

Wonder what next door thought of dad shouting "You filthy animal" at about 4:30am.

Food today was ok - three star rather than five. There are Kongs in the freezer though, so I'm guessing they'll be coming our way about 10pm, like they usually do.

Can't wait. Love Kongs - makes me really tired working out how to get the last bit of food out of the small end.

Met two angry Pomeranians today - wow, they were annoyed at something - started barking at Weemsy and me and really meant it.

I just ignored them. Weemsy tried to make friends but they wanted a fight, so dad told Weemsy to leave it, which he did immediately.

About five minutes later, we met two Jack Russells. The same thing happened - lots of angry yapping and barking, and one of them got his teeth out to show me.

So, I showed mine back and he soon shut his little gob.

I have the most gleaming white teeth ever - dad says it's because I chew so many sticks and am quite good at destroying meaty bones too - and they didn't like them.

The woman walking them made it look like we'd started the trouble. All we'd done was walk within 10 metres of them. Honest.

Little doggies with big chips on their shoulders. Bet they wouldn't have done that to our mate, the German Shepherd.

I got a big stick as a reward - dad found it on the edge of the woods - and I barked and squealed with delight when I saw it. It had two branches. Double fun.

Weemsy played fetch with the smelly old ball. Must be nearly time for a new ball. I reckon the old one is even older than Weemsy.

Into the woods after that. Loads of squirrels around. I mean loads. And loads. And loads.

Weemsy tried leaping up trees after them. I need to explain to him that he's a dog, not a cat.

I ran off into the undergrowth when one flew straight past me - no way was he getting away.

Guess what.

He got away.

But not before I turned myself brown and green in there - came out wearing bits of slime and goodness knows what. Came off easily with the doggy towel afterwards, though.

Three dinners each today. Ok, they were all small, but I like this more than one big meal.

Hopefully dad will give us Kongs later as well.

Never been one for cuddles and pats - felt sort of scary.
But just lately, I've come to really like them - dad knows exactly where behind my ear to scratch to relax me.

So, tonight, for the first time ever, while dad was sitting on the floor, I ran up to him, then dived onto my back, resting my head on him.

Oh wow wow, tummy scratches. Oh wow wow.

Weemsy joined me on the other side of dad, who was laughing because he said all he could see was snaggle teeth hanging out from upside down gums, and little doggy legs spinning round when dad scratched that tickly spot on the side.

We lay there for about 10 minutes until dad said his hands were getting tired. I could have stayed there all evening.

This interacting with humans isn't so bad - they're not as scary as they were when dad first talked to me in the rescue home about a year ago.

I remember that - every time he went near my kennel, I barked. And showed my teeth.

Strange thing was though, he used to point at me and make funny noises and I used to shut up.

He probably thinks it's because he has special doggy powers.

Actually, it was because I thought he was a loony. Did he think he was ET or something?

Kongs later tonight. I hear there's chicken in them. I am soooooo excited.

Up and out at 5:30am this morning.
Wow, dark or what.
And crispy freezing too.

Weemsy and me had an awesome run round in the park until about 7am.

Dad said it's our new routine as he's going back to work.

He said if we go out mega early and get tired out, then we'll sleep all day when he's at work.

I don't mind - walkies at any time is good - and he might have a point.

We came home about 7am, I had brekkie about 8am, a huge poo about 8:15am, then slept until 5pm.   I was very tired.

Weemsy looked funny this morning - he was sliding around all over the place on the frozen grass while he chased his ball.

We got to go onto a BMX track this morning too - was good fun with all the swoops and jumps. Wish I had a bike. I'd get serious air off the last jump.

Awesome walkies today.

Dad trusted Weemsy to go completely off the lead in the woods.

Normally he's only let off the lead in the park.

That meant Weemsy and me got to sprint around the woods, always staying quite close to dad, but also far enough away to have mad fun.

All those fallen leaves are great fun to randomly churn up with our paws - especially when burying poos.

Anyway, while we were off lead, a fisherman came walking by with his own staffy, who was on a lead.

Dad cr**ped himself as he thought Weemsy was going to do his usual off-lead trick of sprinting up to the other doggy but, no, Weemsy came immediately when called. So did I.

That earned us a nice pat on the head from dad, who said he is very pleased with how much Weemsy's recall has come on.

As he was so happy with us, he gave us fresh pork for tea. Oh wow.

I spent ages licking my bowl after finishing. Then I checked Weemsy's bowl.

While I was checking Weemsy's bowl, he was checking mine.

Great doggy minds obviously think alike.

Here is a pic of Weemsy and me in my play pen.



If you look, Weemsy has his own perfectly good crate to sleep in, too. But as we're such good friends now, he often comes to knock for me, so I invited him in.  

If you look more closely, you'll see that the duvet is outside the duvet cover.

Remember a little while ago, I got stuck in the duvet cover and dad said he was going to sew it up so I couldn't get stuck again?

Well, guess what.

Dad's sewing is useless.

To illustrate this point to him, I have placed the duvet on top of the cover. Not sure if he'll notice.

Yesterday, I gathered evidence that dad is planning to make Weemsy work for a living.

Dad dug out two fallen tree branches for us - I got a great one about three feet long.

Weemsy got a seven footer.

Then dad walked off across the park and called us.

I left my stick and ran over but Weemsy carried his mini tree in his mouth - clearly having to work for his enjoyment.

I shall be speaking to the doggy union about this. Normally, we get sticks, then get to chew on them right there. Not on the other side of the park.

Consider this a formal complaint.

Dad chatted to another dog owner he hadn't seen in ages, then was interrupted when she started laughing.

Turns out I shouldn't have been chasing the man on his bicycle.

Look, I don't normally chase bicycles - they are boring contraptions for humans who don't walk.

But this one was different - it had clearly been in an accident of some sort and had wheels which were buckled and bordering on oval, as well as an annoying squeak.

I can't honestly say if it was the squeak or the fact the man was in the wrong gear and his legs were flying round the front sprocket like hamsters on speed, but it really sparked my instinct to chase.

As I don't really have much of an instinct to chase, you can clearly see that this bicycle was annoying.

The man shouted: "Bout ye, chew me?"

Dad translated this for me. It meant: "Hello. Does your dog bite?"

My first encounter with Irish dialect.

No, I won't bite you, man on bicycle.

But, c'mon. About 5000 revolutions of your feet for every forward metre of progress on the bike and a squeak that was so high it was in doggy hearing range. Chasing had to be done.

As dad pointed out to me later, I was doing play bows at the bike. So it must have been fun.

Not sure if we're going walkies later today. Huge golf balls are falling from the sky. Dad is calling them hailstones. I am calling them huge golf balls.

Weemsy needed a poo and wouldn't go out in these hailstones. When the poo got the better of him, he had to go out. Never seen anyone jettison their poo cargo so quickly.

But he was still soaked when he came in. Haha.

Hmm.

Dad has just informed us that we're off to the market in search of the butcher with doggy bones.

Conundrum.

Hailstones and doggy bones.
Or stay dry and eat kibble?

I will play sprint round the house to decide.

If I knock something worth more than a tenner over, it's hailstones and doggy bones.

Will let you know the outcome of this test later on.

Oh, wow.

Dad got chatting to the butcher in the market and bought a whole freezer full of chicken.

But, best of all, the butcher is preparing Weemsy and me a box of raw meaty bones every week. And, even better, it's free.

He didn't have any normal doggy bones there today but he did have a whole box of raw pork necks, which dad struggled with back to the car, together with all this chicken.

Dad said pork necks are a bit fatty and can have small bones in them but, guess what, Weemsy and me just showed dad we are experts in eating them.

They were still frozen and dad thought it would take us quite a while to get through them.

But I did mine in under five minutes - it weighed about half a kilo.

And Weemsy only took a few minutes longer on his - even with his OAP teeth.

Just awesome and dad said we have raw meaty bones to look forward to every day - as long as we're good.

I have to promise to stop digging my bed.

And Weemsy has to promise to stop sneaking under dad's duvet and farting.

Should be easy. Anything for raw meaty bones.

Great night last night.

Dad visited some friends who Weemsy and me hadn't met before.

When he knocked their door, I was on a lead because I can be a bit shy meeting strangers, but Weemsy wasn't.

When dad's friends opened the door, Weemsy didn't even introduce himself.   He just ran past them and did a few laps at top speed around their house, all excited to be exploring a new den.

I was introduced to dad's friends, who quickly became my friends because they had treat after treat lined up to show they were ok.

They were defo ok - their treats were even better than the ones dad gives us - and I spent ages going "om nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom" at all the little piles of food they were laying down everywhere.

Meanwhile, Weemsy was in and out of rooms, table-surfing, kitchen counter-surfing, and bin sniffing. He didn't steal anything - he was just mega excited.

The wife of dad's friend asked if Weemsy had ADHD because he really was just a speed blur of fur and legs.

The man let us up on the furniture. Imagine my surprise when I suddenly realised that I wasn't sitting beside dad, but had parked my butt on the other sofa next to this strange man.

I mean, I wouldn't have done this just a few months ago - I was wary of all men - but I just knew this man wasn't going to be nasty.

And he kept sneaking me treats. And more treats.

Problem was, I soon needed the loo but didn't know where the back door was in this house. So, I went sniffing.

Dad realised just in time why I was sniffing and they did an emergency evacuation into the back garden. It was only just in time as I really needed to go. Phew, close.

Once Weemsy had calmed down, he got treats, too and the couple were laughing really hard at the noises he made. Weemsy has his own language when he's eating food - it's called Staffy language, apparently.

I don't speak it as I'm an English Bull terrier cross, but it's obvious that the noises mean yummy, yummy, gimme more. Gimme. Om nom nom nom nom.

By the end of the evening, I was lying upside down on the man, getting belly rubs, with my snaggly English Bull incisor teeth hanging out of my loose, flappy gums, like a cartoon character.

Wow, humans can be nice to doggies. I must make a note of this and pass it on to other doggies. Not all humans want to be horrible.

When we got home, Weemsy and me were so shattered from all the fun and mental stimulation that we didn't even hear dad getting up after he'd had a sleep.

In fact, he'd been up for four or five hours before we even moved from our beds.

I want to go back there again - they are so cool.

Just in from assessment.
Oh boy, I am pooped.
Weemsy and me had to do loads of things so that we could be marked out of 10 for each one.

It wasn't an official test, just dad deciding to invent his own scorecard.

Here are the score cards.

Walking to heel (slack lead) for 1/2 mile: Wingo 10, Weemsy 10

Passing other dogs while on lead: Wingo 10, Weemsy 10

Fetch and retrieve: Wingo 0, Weemsy 10

Passing cats: Wingo 8, Weemsy 0

Passing squirrels: Wingo 0, Weemsy 0

Sit: Wingo 8, Weemsy 9

Sit/stay: Wingo 5, Weemsy 7

Bark on command: Wingo 7, Weemsy 0

Give paw: Wingo 1, Weemsy 10

Even though we didn't do much running around today, I am shattered from the mental efforts of having to do all these things.

Dad said our heel walking is just awesome - neither of our noses is allowed in front of dad's legs - we have to walk like all three of us are in a perfect line.

Well, we showed him today - no correction needed. Weemsy and me have this one nailed down.

Of course, that might be because of the new boxes of doggy bones....

I had a weird night last night.

Dad took us out for another walkies at about 8pm and we went to a new park where there's lakes and ducks and things.

We walked for ages and when we were in the middle of nowhere, we realised that someone was following us - in the pitch dark along a narrow lane.

We looked back and noticed there was a man, on his own, who slowed down when we did and sped up when we did.

Dad didn't like this, so when we got to a gateway, dad pulled us into its entrance, then stopped abruptly.

The man had his hood up and walked directly up to dad and us, then stared for a couple of seconds.

I didn't like it either, so I showed him my teeth. He was definitely up to no good.

He just stood there, so dad told him to go away.

The man kept standing there, staring, then walked away.

We walked back the other way and dad was on full alert, but we didn't get followed on the way back.

This morning, we met up with Max the collie and his owner and got told that a woman got beaten up and knocked out yesterday in the park by a man after her dog.

Apparently, her dog ran off and found its own way home, but the woman was quite badly hurt.

There were some muggings here a while ago, where people attacked owners and took their dogs. It looks like it's starting again.

Dad is not best pleased.

Today, I present formal evidence that I will be entering the London Marathon.

As readers of my canine ramblings will know, dad always takes us to the park, then lets me eat sticks and trot around the woods for a couple of hours a day.

Well, now it's all dark and stuff, dad has changed all that. Weemsy and me now walk for two or more hours a day.

Walk. Not play sticks and ball. Walk.

I am, of course, quite up for this, being a dog with my need to migrate on a daily basis.

But, wow, walking non-stop for several hours a day is tiring.

I need to get my fitness up.

Dad said he's planning to walk us for an hour at 5am every morning - even weekends - then for at least 90 minutes at 5pm every day.

Even if it's super cold.

We've abandoned the park and now walk through all these housing estates, which seem to be miles apart if you try to drive to each of them on the main roads. But dad has found a load of cycle paths and public rights of way that hardly anyone seems to know - and we can pop from one end of the town to the other in about an hour.

Awesome.

Dad has also cut my rations down - he said I was starting to gain weight. Combine that with all this extra walking and I'll look like a marathon participating dog soon.

Dad has also mapped out a seven mile walk around Rutland waters for us to do every weekend. I haven't been there before but it's supposed to be very picturesque.

Well, as long as it has scent trails to sniff and other doggies, I think it'll be good.

But seven miles. Wow. Do that every weekend and that's more than a marathon every month.

Weemsy, of course, is well up for it. He's super-fit and I bet he used to be in the doggy army and do loads of walking before he came to live with us.

I am nearing the end of my home alone training and am doing well - I do get a bit silly when dad comes home but he just ignores Weemsy and me when he comes back. I thought he'd be overjoyed to see us, like we are him.

Maybe this is his way of conditioning us to think being left at home is no big deal.

Well, it is.

If no one's home, there's no one to give us treats.

Humans should consider this.

I overheard dad musing to himself earlier.
He's worried now I don't have sticks to chew that I'll turn my attention to chewing the house - especially when he's out for the day.

So, guess what happened?

We all went to the pet store tonight.

Weemsy was hilarious in there - scooting around all over the tiled floor like a loony - trying to sniff everything (and give the doggy treats a sly lick when no one was looking).

There were a few dogs going bonkers in there tonight.

Anyway, dad got us a Bull Bar each - from the Stag Bar people, except made from buffalo horn or something.

Man, these were huge - made the staggies look like little treats.

Weemsy wasn't seen for a few hours when we got back - dad washed the Bull Bars then gave one to each of us and Weemsy just disappeared off somewhere.

I have to say, even though he's older and his teeth are worn, he made a reasonable impression on his Bull Bar - left some chew marks on it.

I didn't even dent mine. I mean, I can destroy Stag Bars like they're for fun but this Bull Bar, because it was so big, I think, wow, no hope.

Dad said he'll be monitoring us to see if it's safe to leave them with us when he goes to work.

Good old dad. Out working so he can buy us more treats and duvets, each time I destroy my doggy bed.

Off to bed now as we're up at 5am for walkies. The new, full routine starts tomorrow. Yoww - I'll be home alone all day from 7:30am, with only Weemsy to keep me company.

Dad said he'll be stopping in the play pen and I'll be in the converted garage beside him, but with free reign.

Dad has warned me against eating the radiator pipes.

I think he meant it.

Mega walkies this morning.
Dad kicked us out of bed at 5am  and we went to the park, where Max the collie was already out and playing.  

Weemsy and me played chase, then chewed some sticks and balls while dad fell into the undergrowth on the edge of the woods and came out with his hands leaking loads of bloods.

Silly fool had caught himself on a load of thorn bushes and was leaking like a tea bag when he eventually stood upright again.

Max's owner thought it was quite funny. So did dad, actually. He was in a suspiciously good mood.

I crawled back into bed on our return and have only just woken up. Tiring stuff this early morning walking.

Weemsy and me with our Bull Bars.

Dad says they smell.

Weemsy's nails need cutting as well, dad.
Sort it out.

Dad went back to work yesterday - full-time properly.
He was fretting on Sunday evening about whether we'd be ok or not.

Well, let me report that we did awesome.

Dad devised this cunning escape route.

He moves the car off the drive and up the road when we get back from walkies at 6am, so we won't react to it starting up when he does go out properly at 7am.

Then, he puts Weemsy in the playpen (it's about five Weemsy's long and three Weemsy's wide and it's stuffed so full of toys and bull bars and things that Weemsy looks like he's been put inside one of those fairground "grab a prize" machines. Lol.)

Then I have a duvet laid outside my crate, and another one in it, and the door is left open.

Then a baby gate keeps us in the doggy room, away from the lounge.

Of course, dad knows that Weemsy can jump out of his playpen and both of us can jump the baby gate, but we're all playing a game of pretend here.  

Anyway, dad then gives us frozen Kongs at 7am, then turns a radio on in the lounge, then sneaks out the back door while the radio is on, thinking we won't hear, and will actually think that dad is at home all day with the radio on in the room next to us.

Of course, Weemsy and me know that dad has gone out, and dad knows that we know.

But we all pretend we don't have any idea.

Then, when dad comes home, he sneaks back in the back door, turns the radio off, then makes some "ahhh" noises, pretending he's actually been home all day.

He isn't fooling anyone.

The look on dad's face yesterday when he stuck his head in when he came home to find Weemsy still in his crate and that I hadn't eaten the furniture was hilarious.

Poor dad thought we were going to play demolitions when he was out.

Anyway, there's a reason Weemsy and me are being so good and handling this home alone thing really well. The reason.... well, have you seen the size of the doggy bones dad has got in for us as treats.

Oh wow.

Plus, we also get walkies for an hour at 5am, and again at 6pm.

And nice warm duvets.

It's not too bad.

I can't say I'm used to it yet, and I do go silly when dad comes home after pretending he hasn't been anywhere. This also sets Weemsy off, who runs round the house, doing laps on the furniture and jumping up around dad like he's a puppy.

Anyway, we'll all play this game while there's bones at stake. And big double walkies.

Dad's face rolling out of bed at 5am is hilarious though. Weemsy and me are ready in seconds - dad potters round like he's drunk, stumbling into doors and things.

Another 5am walkies this morning.
There was a friendly Scottie type doggy out at that time as well - his owner said he never sees anyone else at 5am.

Well, we're about now, so I thought I should introduce myself to him if we're going to be walking the same pavements.
He was very nice - gave me a big sniff, followed by a lick on my cheek, which tickled.

Weemsy got a lick too.

Anyway, dad went to work at 7:30am and left us with frozen Kongs and a radio blasting out 70s and 80s music. I didn't do much dancing.

When dad got home, the radio had stopped working - think it ate his batteries - but he needn't have worried. I didn't panic at being home alone - I feel much happier and braver with Weemsy by my side all day.

I didn't chew anything either, although the duvet does appear to have been, er, ripped a bit by Weemsy, who seems to be copying my bed digging habit.

When dad came back, I have to admit, I did go silly - I did the tucked bum terrier play greeting and flew around the house like a remote controlled fool.

Weemsy danced round dad's ankles like a Morris dancer round a bell, then did his usual grand national hurdles event, which involves leaping the furniture, then handbrake turning into the kitchen.

Dad said if we keep being good until Friday night, we're going to go for a seven mile walk at a nature reserve on Saturday. I am sooooooooooooooooooooo excited - there'll be other doggies there, as well as ducks and those big duck things - geese or swans or something.

Dad has had a conversation with the owner of the rescue he fosters for, and it looks like Weemsy might become a permanent addition here - as in no longer fostered, but actually adopted.

I also heard dad say he was going to take another doggy in - a small female, but I don't know what breed or anything. He said it was subject to us all getting along and having a few trial meetings and days together.

I'm up for it. So is Weemsy. We'll be nice to the third doggy if she comes - the more the merrier for our house parties while dad is out.

Oops, I mean, we all just lie quietly, chewing on our Kongs and toys and don't have parties ever.  

Yeouchhhhh.

When dad came home from work today, Weemsy and me got excited.
Weemsy got a bit too excited and somehow managed to trap his paw in the edge of the playpen - where two sides join together.

Dad has no idea how the heck he managed this, and neither do I.

But all we heard was Weemsy's happy tail thumping against the playpen sides get overwhelmed by a scream - a proper Staffy pain scream.

Dad ran in to see what had happened, then ripped the side off the playpen as Weemsy's paw was very stuck.

Weemsy was in pain - I knew that as he was squirting wee all over himself and dad.

Poor Weemsy - he limped after that - right up to the point dad pulled a chicken breast from the fridge for him - suddenly improved after that.

Dad won't be logged on here tonight - he's modifying the crate and testing it. I expect, being dad, he will sleep in it and give it a proper try out.

Woohoo,

We managed a week of being good while dad was in work.

Not a thing chewed, although Weemsy did reduce his duvet to balls of fluff now he's copied my digging habit.

Dad won't put a cover on the duvet in case Weemsy gets stuck inside it when dad's at work.

Dad's solution: just go to the shops and buy a load more, ready for replacing. I reckon we're looking at a duvet a week.  

Anyway, we were due to go for a huge walk on Saturday as reward for being awesome, and... we did. But not where we had planned.
Dad looked it up on the internet and saw we'd have to pay for parking.

Being as tight as a sewn-up penguin, dad opted to save the four quid for doggy treats and take us to a different park, which was free.

Made no difference to Weemsy and me - we still got over two hours of running around, chasing each other, bumping each other, and dragging huge logs together around the park.

At one point, we had a 10 foot branch balanced between us, and we got a few hundred metres with it before it got too tiring. Not sure why the humans nearby were laughing - we were just having fun.

When we got home, we rested for a while, then got a Kong each. Then another. Then some treats. Then some different treats. Then dinner.

Weemsy did a huge burp after all that, then pulled a face and tried to blame me. Seriously, Weemsy, as if I'd do a burp like that. I'm a laydee.

More walkies last night, then off to the shops. We stayed in the car, pulling faces at the Christmas shoppers, while dad went round the store.

He told us on the way home that it was like going into battle and explained that these tanks kept attacking him in the aisle.

Silly dad. They were trolleys. Even Weemsy and me know that.

Dad then spent the whole evening pressing refresh on his computer - seems some deal on a camera was on Amazon and the price seemed to be changing almost hourly. Anyway, it eventually came up at the price he wanted, so he opened his moth-holder, I mean wallet, and bought some Canon EOS600D thing, plus a kit lens plus a 40mm pancake lens. Sounds tasty.

Dad is also looking for a microphone, a pre-amp, a flash gun, some reflectors, a remote control unit, a battery grip and some more lenses. He reckons he's going to make an epic doggy movie - seems the 600D has one or two cool video features on it that disappeared on other models and dad is convinced it's the perfect tool for making a doggy blockbuster.

I've been told I have a starring role, so I demanded paying in doggy bones. My fee appears to have been accepted without argument.

Weemsy will have another starring role, and dad will be making part of it in slow motion - this is probably a good idea as, in slow motion, you might see Weemsy run. Normally, he's just a speed blur of legs and brindle fur.

Just found out there's another doggy coming to stay over Christmas - for a week or two. Some posh little fella, still a bit of a pup, apparently.

Cool - three for the game of leap sofa, then.

Dad will probably be a mess of mince pies and Jack Daniels by Boxing Day, so we'll need to sort our own fun out.

I might use this new camera to video dad - it'll be like Scrooge meets Grinch - Scrinch or Grooge, I'm not certain.

Anyway, more walkies due now - t'is getting dark - so will catch you all laters.

Wingo.

Morning all.
Captain Weemo here. Wingo has gone back to bed.

We joined the 4:30am walkers' club this morning - no idea why dad was up so early but it did mean a slightly longer walkies and new dogs to get barked at by.

There were a few Scotty types out as we walked round the housing estates - barking at the top of their voices at 4:30am, lol. Bet the neighbours will be pleased.

Lots of tired-looking owners telling them to shush as they went for walkies together. Wingo and me never said a word. We're good like that.

Anyway, around 5:30am, I decided to run away from home. Don't know why.

Dad unclipped us from our leads near the house, as he always does, and I just ran. In the other direction.

I think I wanted to go back to the bit of green in the housing estate. At least, that's where dad caught me. But I still played chase with him, so the old git said "fine, live here then, and pointed at the green".

I came to my senses after that - why live on a cold, wet green, when I can destroy duvets at home at the rate of one a week?

Obviously home wins.

So I came home.

Dad has banned me from off-lead in the estate now.

Not bothered.

Wingo here again.

Oh boy, was I in a silly mood today when dad got home.
He said he could hear me doing my whiney squeak the second he came in the door - it's like a cross between a sheep's bleat and a whistle.

As soon as dad let me out of the doggy room, I ran round the house like a loon, then bombed out into the back garden. Except, the back door wasn't open and I only realised this at full acceleration.

Serious brakes needed, and only a minor collision.

We got top quality food straight after and I'm pleased to say, I can now do Weemsy's trick of walking round the kitchen on my back legs, sniffing food.

Dad hasn't taught me - I've just learned to copy Weemsy.

Found out today that the doggy coming to stay with us for Christmas is a cross between a Shihtzu and a Poodle. That makes him a Shih-Poo.

I'm not laughing. Honest. I'm not.

But try saying Shih-Poo a few times quickly.

Anyway, apparently he's pretty cool but does have a habit of ripping his toys to bits - especially if they're made of fabric. Should be interesting to watch him get hold of one of the cushions.  

Dad says Mr Shih-Poo can have a minor role in our new doggy blockbuster video.

What else?

Oh yeah, I humped Weemsy tonight. He didn't object. I was impressed actually - he stood perfectly still while dad tried to give him chicken with one hand and swipe me off him with the other hand. Not sure why I'm doing this, being a laydee.

I have been up all night, pacing round the house.

I started with a spot of indoor walking around 11pm. Dad thought I needed a wee but I didn't.

About 1am, I started going in and out of the bedroom, onto the bed, stand on dad and Weemsy, get off the bed, and repeat. Dad thought I was hungry. I wasn't.

At 3am, I started digging my bed really loudly. Dad thought I might want ultra-fresh water. I didn't.

At 4am, I got up again and went to lie at the bottom of the stairs - nowhere near any bed.

Anyway, dad got no sleep and has only just got up now, so I've missed walkies.   

I do get restless every once in a while - probably once every two months and the rules are simple. If I can't sleep, then no one else is sleeping either.

Now that dad's up, I've gone to bed.  

Burrrrrrrrrrr. Evening walkies was chilly. And foggy.

Saw a good collision between a jogger and a cyclist - both had lights on but, I guess, couldn't see each other until the last moment.

Anyway, think the cyclist won that one. The jogger turned into a walker once he'd got back up.

Also saw some loony on the roof of his house in the fog - looked like he was messing with his aerial - seriously hope he doesn't step off his roof in the fog - Weemsy and me are back indoors, so no doggies about to catch him.

Weemsy and me have to go to Tesco later if the fog goes away - dad's nephew wants Skylanders Swap Force for Christmas - guess that makes him me and Weemsy's cousin.

Dad has no idea what a Skylander is and neither do we, so we'll ask the Tesco woman to choose. Dad often does this when he doesn't know what to buy - the Tesco woman usually sorts it out for him, but I think she thinks dad is a bit simple.

He is.  

Oops.

I didn't manage my morning poop on walkies before dad went to work today.
It arrived when he was out.

But dad didn't care when he got home - he knew straight away I'd done one as it's hard to miss the pong.

Even better - I'd done it on the only bit of rubber mat in the doggy room - under dad's weights equipment - so it was just a quick clean up.

Dad did say to me that he expected Weemsy would be the one to have an accident - seeing as Weemsy's quite old - but he also said he knew I couldn't help it, so doggy bones and treats would still be coming as normal.

Dad said he's going to the shops later for some spray to get rid of the scent, and also for another duvet for Weemsy. Weemsy has destroyed his duvet this week - there's just a ball of duvet fluff in his playpen now instead of a single duvet.

Visitors coming tomorrow - they texted dad to say they've bought treats for Weemsy and me. That makes them ok then, so I will reserve a big doggy lick until they arrive.   

Christmas has come early for me.

Dad has decided he's going to stop fostering Weemsy and adopt him instead.

So Weemsy will become my permanent brother, just as soon as dad does the paperwork.

We don't have a celebration cake to hand, so we ate some cookies instead.      

Whoops - vet time.

Weemsy went in to have his nails cut.

The vet thought she could do it.
Dad thought she could do it.
Weemsy had other ideas.

20 minutes later, Weemsy left, with nails still uncut.

Seems he's not too taken with the thought of having them trimmed.

In fact, dad said he's never seen a dog react so badly.

So, plan b.

Dad will use the nail cutters when Weemsy's sleeping and try to get one nail a night.   

Dad cracked out his new camera this morning.

Lots of swearing interspersed his reading of the instruction manual and trying things out.

Dad decided he wanted a photo of my nose with shallow depth of field - ie only the nose in focus.

Here it is. My nose. Not sure what to make of that really.
What's next?
An ear photo?

Here's me, taken in snapshot mode in crappy indoor lighting.
I think I'm cute. Dad and Weemsy agree. 



There might be some Weemsy photos later - if he sits still long enough.
When the camera appears, Weemsy goes into playful idiot mode.

Dad's friends came over last night - and brought a packet of luxury dog treats with them.
These were awesome.

Weemsy and me quickly stopped eyeing these new humans with suspicion and, instead, started doing our best tricks for treats.

Dad and one of his visitors decided to invite some bloke called Jim Beam into the party. Three hours and a whole bottle later, they were fissed as parts. Hic.  

Then they went onto the beer, then phoned for a delivery Chinese meal - lol - even this morning, there's enough Chinese food left over to feed an army of ragamuffins.

Weemsy went into full troll under the bridge mode and hid under the table - waiting for bits of spare rib, chicken and beef to appear.

He didn't have to wait long - the amount of food going into the drunk humans was only slightly more than the amount of food hitting the floor.

I was more conservative and sat by the lady, who wasn't drinking. She empathised with my sober state and fed me awesome bits of meat instead.

Then a cake appeared from nowhere and for no particular reason - dad was a bloated, drunk mess by this point but still managed about half a kilo of Victoria sponge.

Dad is so embarrassing at times.  








Treats. Did someone mention treats?

Well, us doggies normally try to bust out of our crates.

Today, I tried to bust in. To Weemsy's playpen.

Dad had gone to work, so I set about dismantling the outside of the crate, so I could spring Weemsy free.

Dad knew as soon as he came home - the bars were pulled back from the outside and I had a divot missing from the top of my head where I'd caught it on one of the bars I managed to pull loose.

As dad says, it falls into the bumps and scratches category, rather than anything more, but fancy that - I spent my first days dismantling crates from the inside out, now I'm working on playpens from the outside in.

I think I'm quite clever.

It didn't work though - Weemsy was still in his playpen when dad got back - surrounded by toys, Kongs, bull bars and lots of duvet fluff.

New duvet for Weemsy this morning, and he's dug it to bits already.

Dad knows it's not Weemsy stressing - he's very laid back - but more to do with his digging habit. We have no idea what Weemsy is actually crossed with - something a lot smaller than a staffy - but whatever it is, it has digging in its habits. Maybe Weemsy is half badger.   

Dad set a camera up when he came home.

It just answered the duvet destruction question - Weemsy does it when he loses his Bull bar under the duvet.

Dad's just caught his paws going round at 800 revolutions per minute, mixed with flying duvet fluff.

Will Weemsy have to surrender his Bull bar? Hmm.

Well, Weemsy kept the Bull bar.
And we got a good walkies this morning and a good run off the lead.

And, earlier tonight, we went to meet the Shih-Poo who is coming to stay with us on Friday.

Heh heh.

He's covered in ringlets of black hair and has a squeaky bark and is now my bestest new friend.

Dad did introductions over the course of an hour - walks around the little chap's area and getting used to each other's company in a garden.

At the end of it, he let me off lead and the little guy off lead. Weemsy wasn't bothered about joining in - he had a few sniffs and a quick growl because the little guy jumped on him.

But me and the little guy - well, within about a minute, we were sprinting around this house - in and out of the lounge, into the kitchen, up and down the stairs.

Just round and round, with him jumping on me and me jumping on him.

And tons of play bows and funny faces from both of us.

Lots of excited squeaky barks from him - he was having as much fun as I was.

Dad let us play for nearly an hour until we were both exhausted.

I really like him.

He is only about eight months old and completely mad.

Dad laughed and said he won't be getting any peace for a week once the little guy arrives at our house to stay.

Dad also said that walking all three of us was nearly impossible as the little guy goes in every direction but forwards. I think dad will get that sorted within a few days.

Anyway, the little guy will have a bigger role in our doggy blockbuster as he's so fun.

I can't wait for him to come to stay at ours.

Wow, the little guy is here.  

I have been playing for two hours non stop with him - just sprinting round the house, taking it in turns to pin each other down.

Weemsy joined in too for a bit but it's mostly me and the little guy going mad.

When he came in, he did a triple poo on dad's rug but luckily they were solid ones so no harm done.

After two hours of driving dad insane, we're all knackered now.

I'm typing from my crate, Weemsy has gone to bed, and the little guy has gone for a kip under dad's chair.

Dad expected him to take a day or two to settle in but he's made himself right at home - he even took my Bull bar from my crate but I didn't mind. He's so little he's not going to eat even one molecule of it.

Dad managed to get some video of us being silly but he used an old video camera and he's still trying to persuade Youtube to upload it - seems to be a bit broken.

EDIT: Sleeping update.

I'm in Weemsy's playpen, fluffy dog is with me, and Weemsy is pestering dad for twiglets.  

We're back up for round two of play.  

About three hours of being silly and counting.