Wingo's World

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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.

Ermagerd - the fluffy guy doesn't sleep.
At all.
We all had a disaster of a sleep - dad is stumbling round the house this morning, banging into doors with eyes that look like they were best before 1854.

When bed time came, me and Weemsy went to dad's bed, as usual. The little guy followed and dad ummed and ahed as he knows I can be a bit of a git if someone stands on me when I'm sleeping. Dad also didn't want a bed full of new dog accidents.

But, we tried that.

I think fluffy got removed at about 2am - several hours into a pattern of standing on dad's face, running up and down the bed, then playing leap at random points in time for no apparent reason.

I eventually snapped at him in the older dog teaches new dog way. But to no avail.
Fluffy's batteries were clearly fully charged.

So dad removed him to the doggy room and fluffy began to whine and bark and scratch.

So dad went to have one quick check of him and found he was busy pulling Weemo's bed to shreds - the doggy room looked like it was full of snow with all the atomised duvet fluff.

So dad removed the duvet from my crate, put in a warm doggy blanket and tried again.

Fluffy eventually gave up with his singing and shouting at 5am. I imagine the neighbours are p****d.

Then we all got up at 7am as fluffy decided it was wake up time and began digging and barking with fresh enthusiasm.

Since 7am, fluffy has been sprinting round the house, windmilling the back door with his little arms, playing sofa leap, and generally being mad.

Dad said he was amazed by Weemo last night.
When fluffy started crying, Weemo got up and went downstairs to check on him, then came back.

Weemo did this about 10 times and dad followed him a couple of times to see what was going on. Each time fluffy got upset - he is new to a new house after all - Weemo went to him and stood beside him. This stopped the little guy from crying.

Dad called it a "real father and adopted son" moment and said he was very surprised in a good way. Extra treats for Weemo today.

Weemsy with his Bull bar.

The little fluffy guy.

Me, transfixed on a rather tasty marrowbone treat.

Dad here.
The three musketeers have gone to bed - all decided they're knackered.
I assume this means another night of nocturnal idiocy.   

Wingo here again.

Dad had house guests last night, so little fluffy guy and me decided to show them how to party.

I think we drove everyone mad by playing for hours, banging into things, knocking things over, and playing leap sofa onto doggy-unaware guests.

Anyway, the faint glimmer they had of maybe getting a puppy seems to have gone - think they were surprised at how much supervision the little guy needed.

Weemsy and the little guy had a minor falling out - I think Weemsy was knackered and got the hump with fluffy constantly dancing on him.

Anyway, fluffy finally went to sleep last night at midnight - it was like an on/off switch - he went from sprinting round the house, to lying upside down with tiny legs in the air in the space of five seconds.

So, we all got a marvelous sleep until 8am this morning, at which point fluffy and me decided it was time to resume play. Weemsy has declared himself out and has commandeered the sofa while we play like the adolescent and puppy we are.

Fluffy has a thing about the back patio door - it has to be slightly open, so he can sit with his back legs inside the house and front legs outside the house, right on the sliding door rail.

If it's closed, he windmills the glass with his little arms until it's open. All good in the summer but dad said he can see pound notes floating outside - something to do with having to pay for heating or something. Looks like we're reverting to dad's old trick of heating off. Hmm.

Here's fluffy and me goofing around on day three.

A few hours later and we're still at it.

In slow motion this time.

If the little guy's not playing with me, he's doing a gruffly squeaky bark at dad for attention.

Dad is wondering if we can beat the record so far of two minutes silence.

Day four of fluffy puppy.

I eventually snapped at fluffy last night. So did Weemsy.
It was about 1am and we both wanted to sleep but fluffy has no concept of resting and wanted to carry on. So, we both told him off.

But he didn't take the hint and carried on. So dad rearranged the sleeping arrangements.

Weemsy and me went to our crates and fluffy went to sleep in dad's bed, where there'd be no doggies and, so, no play.

Dad said he fell asleep about 1:30am, with fluffy upside-down on the duvet letting out tiny zzzzzzzzzzzz noises.

But then dad woke up at 7am to find fluffy had got hold of dad's nose with his needle puppy teeth and was busy trying to remove it from dad's face.

So, all up at 7am then.

Fluffy then decided he'd start chewing the curtains, so was put into the back garden, where he started barking and windmilling the back door to get back in.

So dad decided to put me outside with him, so fluffy and me could play.

I don't think dad counted on me coming back inside a dirty shade of green - the decking seems to have got some mildewy stuff on it and, as it had been raining, and I'm white....

Some food with fluffy showing his death wish by trying to get to Weemsy's bowl (Weemsy was, luckily, behind a baby gate).

Dad can't find a combination of dogs in rooms which brings peace and quiet. I suspect he will move into stern mode before the end of the day.

We went to nan's house for Christmas.

Weemsy and me traveled in the hatchback of the car. Fluffy traveled in a travel crate and sang for half of the two hour journey, much to dad's dismay.  

Then, much to nan's dismay, fluffy spent Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day singing, barking and screaming.

Oh, fluffy and me spent all three days dog jousting in nan's house, which drove everyone, including Weemo, crazy.

We just ran up and down the lounge, knocking things over and wrestling. By Christmas Day, dad was making fluffy and me take it in turns to have time out in the travel crate as we really were on a silly mission - way too much play, apparently.

Anyway, we all got Christmas dinner - we managed to stop acting the fool for long enough - and a good walkies, where fluffy went in every direction but forwards. Dad said it was like having a gym workout, trying to steer all three of us in one general direction.

Then, right on cue today, I came into season.

As fluffy still has his balls, dad is watching us like hawks although, to be fair, the only one doing any humping is Weemo.

He keeps humping fluffy the pup.

Back home now and fluffy and Weemsy have gone straight to sleep.

As soon as I press send on this post, I'm doing the same.

Big walkies planned for tomorrow.

Day nine with the little fluffy dog and dad said he's close to pulling his hair out.

This I have got to see - dad has a shaved head so plucking hairs should be a bit of an issue.

According to dad, as I don't bother to keep track of things like this, the destruction toll in the house so far is two sofas, two duvet covers, a duvet, a wall and a part of the floor.

Outside, dad's fencing has been chewed and parts of his decking are missing.

Fluffy, it seems, has been having a great time.   

Anyway, me and fluffy have spent the last 24 hours dog jousting - wrestling each other, with fluffy trying to nip my legs and me pulling him around by his ears.

Dad is looking tired - he has to stand by us and watch as I've just come into season and dad says he doesn't want fluffy's conkers anywhere near.

To be fair, I seem to be naturally protecting my rear end - apparently it's quite normal when a doggy lady such as myself is in the early stages of season.

But dad isn't taking chances - he's even contemplating a nappy.

One thing dad finds fascinating about fluffy is his bark - it's the most high-pitched annoyingly loud squeak ever - until someone knocks on the door.

Then it drops about 20 octaves and sounds just like a German Shepherd's.

Which is well weird.

Anyway, the nice man called Tesco brought more food to our door this morning and when dad opened the door, the man was standing halfway down the road. Seems the combination of barks from me, Weemsy and fluffy is enough to strike fear into the most burly of delivery drivers.

I bet next door just love dad this week.   

Weemsy and me have been laughing for hours.

Fluffy grabbed dad's ear when he was playing earlier and wouldn't let go.
Then, when he finally did, he latched onto dad's nose with his sharp teeth.

Dad yelped and waved his arms around like a loony. All the while, fluffy was attached to dad's nose.

Weemsy and me literally needed a wee after laughing so hard.

Dad now has a cut on the inside of his nose and says he has no idea how us doggies can play so rough.

Fluffy also nipped one of dad's fingers, bringing another human yelp.

Lol, human yelps are funny.

Here's a video of Weemo reverting back to puppyhood.

You'd never think he's a proper OAP.

I notice he has some secret moves, like the Hong Kong Phooey-type flying kick right at the start, and the turn-and-bait-them-in sneaky move right at the end.

Here's a video of me getting frisky with poor old fluffy the pup.
I keep forgetting that I am laydee.

Here's a slow motion one of fluffy and me playing.

Mr fluffy has been collected.

His parting shot was to do a wee of excitement on dad, the rug, the lounge floor and the dining room floor.

He absolutely adores his regular handler, who came to collect him - Weemsy thought fluffy was going to take off like a harrier jet with the way his tail was wagging.

Back to normality - me under the duvet on the sofa, Weemo sitting on it, on top of me.

Ah, good times.

Dad will have to sit on the floor, as usual.

I'm a good few days into my season and have glued myself to dad's feet.

He's been calling me clingy wingy all day as I don't want to leave his side.

My hormones are a bit all over the place and I just want the dad human to tell me everything will be ok.

He has been - he's been giving me extra attention - but, well, it's a girl thing.

The ladies will know what I'm saying.   

One great thing about me is that I don't get short tempered or edgy when I'm in season - I need hugs from everyone.

I'm super nice to Weemo as well - Weemo and me snuggle down under a duvet and play "nests".

A few more days in season and I have to say - I'm quite unsettled.
I can't seem to lie down and have been driving dad crazy by nosing the back door to get out, then nosing the back door to get back in.... and repeat at least 20 times a day.

Dad is convinced I'm going outside to check if there are any male suitors in the area - I'm about at that point now where rumpy pumpy would seem a good idea.

Dad knows this, so is keeping me on a lead when we go walkies. He's also growling at anything with balls that gets within 10 feet.

Anyway, I most definitely am clingy wingy this week - I just have to sit on dad's feet, wherever dad's feet are. This makes it hard for dad to walk, with 25kg or so of English Bull terrier attached to the bottom of his legs.  

Only about a week to go.

Dad got a new job.
That means me and Weemo get to stay at home and snooze, then play games.

You should see our beds.

I have two double duvets in mine.
Weemo has four single duvets in his.

When it's cooler weather, we disappear beneath them, with a frozen Kong.

We get a frozen Kong every single morning that dad goes to work.

In return, we are really good - well, except for the time I had botty trots and dad came home to a house full of the most amazing slushy poo.

Weemo has a new trick - he watches tv. It's awesome.
I don't know what he's watching and neither does dad, but Weemo is transfixed by some programmes - with head moving side to side and ears up, pulling interested faces.

I am due in season again shortly - dad can tell because I have started my nesting habits.