Confessions
Dear Diary,
Nine days in and I’m afraid I have finally caved in. For those of you that don’t know, I have stopped eating chocolate since the 1st February. It is part of my drive to live more sustainably.
However, confession time.
Several bars of chocolate were secretly eaten and the wrappers hidden deep in the depths of the bin before hubbie came home. Sigh. I have to say the treat was not as exciting as I thought it might have been. Perhaps it was the huge waves of guilt as I ate them that soured the taste. I am fallible, and I can have off-days.
Excuses, excuses…
Do have an excuse? I suppose everything is relative. It has though, been a tough couple of days. I had to have a small procedure carried out in a local hospital. All went extremely well. I have to say, the health service in France is amazing. The procedure was done under a general anaesthetic. I felt seriously woozy yesterday and, along with not having eaten for over 24 hours, just getting up this morning was already a major challenge for the day. But no, I wasn’t woken up by the gentle singing of the morning chorus, or even the sight of a steaming cup of tea being brought to my bedside by an attentive husband. No. First there were the screams of the alarm going off. As that didn’t work, our Samoyed of eighteen months decided to take the matter into her own hands. Still being a big chewer, we heard cloth being worked on as our duvet was munched and gradually pulled off us on one of the coldest mornings of the year. Have you ever tried to have a tugging match with this breed? Remember it is a sledging dog. The chances are it will win. Not welcome first thing in the morning!
Those of you who have Samoyeds will know it is a highly intelligent breed which can be likened to a three-year old child with occasional tantrums and destructive spells. They love to snuggle, but are also prone to moments of complete madness.
The Velociraptor
This morning was “walkies” with our Samoyed. An excitable eighteen month old who is at the moment a fluffy mix of velociraptor and cute cuddly polar bear. Waffles decided to go for her general litter pickup around the village. We used to be diligent and try and get everything out out of her mouth. That’s fine as a puppy whilst she was tiny, but now with a 25kg dog with a vice-like grip, you really have to be motivated to go into those jaws. We now take that one second (she sometimes gives us) to judge whether or not we really want to stick our hands into that cavern or not. Why? Favourite nibbles for her en route can be invariably tissues (preferably used), cat poo (luckily not squidgy but definitely with the most putrid and revolting odour), gloves on people’s unexpected reaching hands, and finally anything that could be considered dangerous.
Obviously!
This is so she can play the game of:
“Look at me I’m going to swallow it, I’m going to swallow it… I’m going to swallow it…there. Done. Ha! Too slow!” She has even perfected the look of utter dislain as we try and prise her jaws open to no avail.
Off to the vets
Unfortunately she had an irritation in her ear today, which meant an urgent visit to the vet. A Samoyed is incredibly intelligent, sometimes too much so. Once we arrived at the clinic, she refused to get out of the car. Yes, refused. Unusual, as she is always eager to get out of the car and explore. Have you ever had to struggle with a grown medium-sized dog that doesn’t want to get out? Whose profession would be pulling weighty sledges? And you know at that point that the world and his wife are looking your way, either wetting themselves laughing, or saying to themselves,
“Thank goodness little Spot doesn’t behave that way. Who’s a poppet?” as a little Chihuahua looks on, cradled in their owner’s arms.
Half carrying, half dragging, I managed to get her into the vet’s where she promptly tried to hide under a chair in the waiting room. These are not chairs that are solidly screwed into the walls or the floor. No, these are the flimsy metallic ones you get in schools, which if missing the rubber feet (as these ones obviously were), make the most dreadful racket if you scrape them just slightly across the floor. So under she goes, not really understanding why half her body and paws are still exposed. Slightly difficult also, as she is just a bit too big now to be able to do that. Whilst she was squeezing herself around the perimeter of the waiting room and I was embarrassingly threading her lead in and out of these damned loose-standing chairs, while waiting for the vet, I could see the ladies in reception glancing over and whispering. By now these chairs were flying in all directions across the floor, as I tried to assume some sort of illusion of control.
Snowstorms
Unfortunately, the last time she was here for treatment, she had a very painful ear infection that was treated by a specific vet. Guess who appeared? Yes, that very same vet. Waffles tried to hide behind me, or under those damned chairs, but to no avail. I managed to lift all 25kg of her onto the examining table whilst she tried to manically skate off. Hanging on as she heroically struggled, a snowstorm of white fluff started floating everywhere. I was now completely covered from head to toe with her fur and looking like the yeti’s southern cousin. Good thing I was wearing black jeans and a dark fleece. Only then, the vet decided to give her a mild sedative. By the time he was finished it, took the two of us to lift her off the table and put her into the car. By this time she was in “happy-happy” land eating candy-floss elephants and talking to polka-dot whales.
Once I reached home, I suddenly realised with horror the length of our passageway that winds all around the garden to the front door. After carrying her deadweight, I’m afraid I finally cracked.
Zoomies
Cup of tea and small choccie bar. A few choccie bars.
Waffles on the other hand is now doing zoomies around the garden.
Normality has once again returned.
MidLife Crisis In France
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