Life lessons from a furry friend

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, but it’s been one of those months you know? With visits from friends, visits to friends, and a certain friend coming to stay at my house for an extended holiday…. and this particular friend is very special.  No, I haven’t gone and found myself a man whose hunky charms are so alluring I have been distracted from writing for a while. Instead, my friend who has been visiting is that of a hairy variety, ginger in hue, and VERY high maintenance. Not my usual type at all, and that’s before you take into account the four legs and very waggy tail. Yes… I have been dogsitting. Now those who know me will know that I am a bit of a nut for the dogs. No bonkers cat woman status for me, for I’m all about the waggy tails. So when my mate Simon went on hols recently, he knew I would be as overjoyed to look after his dog Cedric as his Cedric would be to come and live with me (well I think I may have been more excited but still, anyone can be bribed with treats). The week was an experience and taught me some lessons in life that I am sharing with you here:

Never leave a TV remote unattended

EXHIBIT A: "Who? ME??"

While your aversion to that rubber faced media mogul Rupert Murdoch may be swayed by a vast array of reality TV rubbish / documentaries/ latest drama from across the Atlantic*, a dog is not distracted by such matters… as I know to my cost! Needless to say, when my back was turned Cedders released his hitherto disguised rage at Mr Murdoch upon my sky remote, as can be witnessed both by exhibit A and my £25.00 lighter wallet.

*delete as appropriate

Don’t judge a woman by her pockets

Usually my pockets are jammed full of the essential fripperies of London life; oyster card, lip balm, housekeys, cigs & lighter - not so when my furry friend is about! Pockets become the receptacle for all things needed immediately to hand, namely poo bags & treats. So next time you see a woman with schmackos, bonios and all manner of bakers complete spilling from her jeans, please don’t assume she’s on the latest fad diet & chastise her nutritional choices. She’s just a woman, doing what she needs to do to make sure 1. her dog is kept to heel and 2. the streets of Hackney don’t suffer his presence too much.

Not MY actual hand.
That would be disgusting. 

Swan poos are bigger than you’d imagine

Now, this is one I’d never considered before my foray into dogsitting but HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF EM??? I know a swan is rumoured to be able to break your arm, but let me tell you, a swan poo can very nearly break your spirit. It certainly nearly broke mine when I had to clean off my ginger ninja after his delighted squirmings into said monstrosities. They are frickin HUGE them things! Huge and gooey and quite frankly more than I’d ever thought swan would be able to produce, what do those things EAT???  Actually, am not sure I want to know, but either ways, their deposits take me neatly onto the next subject.

Never leave home without your wet wipes

An essential lesson this one, as proved not only by the above point, but also with an enthusiastic meeting between Cedric and a used, discarded nappy on Epping Forest. Swans may not have the dexterity or inclination to use a litter bin, but humans do, so shame on whoever flung said nappy with such disgusting abandon. Just as well I had baby wipes to hand I can tell you (no wonder, after Operation Swan Poo) and never did they leave my side in future walks, proving that it’s not just human children that require a shedload of necessities wherever they go, but children of the furry nature too.

Men use babies, us women use dogs

We’ve all seen it, the new father left alone with his child for the first time, out nervously wandering the streets, bleary eyed, a nigh on husk of a man…. that is until the women descend, cooing like pigeons at his wrinkle faced offspring. Now I may not have offspring, but I do have  Cedric, a very handsome, boisterous Hungarian Viszla. Cedric attracted all kinds of men, young ones & old ones, hot ones & not so hot ones, white ones, black ones & blue ones. OK, maybe not blue ones (apart from that rather cold looking tramp outside of Asda once), but you get my drift. Cedders was a starting point for many a conversation with men, cut short only by his mischievous behavior, bad manners and a complete disregard at my attempts to ingratiate myself into the lives of the hot ones. But let me tell you ladies, if you want to find yourself having a nice, easy breezy conversation with the man of your dreams (Mr owner of Rex, a 9 month German Shepherd puppy, I’m looking at you here), get yourself a dog pronto.

So with my life lessons learned and my flat now bereft of all traces of dog, excusing the constant crunch of abandoned kibble underneath my feet (whaaat? I’m leaving it for a treat for next time Cedric comes round!), I am left furiously checking my housing contract for any mention of keeping animals in the flat, because I want me a full time doggy companion of my own, pronto! And then watch out Springfield Park! I’m coming to find Rex and his owner, only this time I’m definitely bringing wet wipes for the swan poo.

There's ALWAYS time for a snuggle