So, you may notice this has been my first post since November 2012 and there’s a reason for that – there was nothing to write. Once you get used to a dog, life just falls in to a routine and by routine, I mean the same old monotony happening over and over again.
Walks, food, grooming, walks, food, grooming… until this week.
Helen has for the last few months been harping on about how CJ needs a companion to stop her getting bored during the day, and perhaps to do something about her separation aniexity.
Personally, I find the separation anxiety really useful as it means she never strays far when we’re out walking and if she runs off, I know she’ll coming screaming back the moment she loses sight of us.
However Helen has had her mind set and for months has been looking a pet listings for a suitable new dog. A couple of times she thought she’d found the perfect dog only to have it snatched away by another seller. Until now.
Yesterday, she excitedly showed me a listing for a six month old Old English Sheepdog. Apparently a family had to give her up due to ‘changed circumstances.’ I, being the logical person that I am, pointed out extra costs, extra work and extra stress that would go with this new addition, the majority of which would be thrust upon her.
Undeterred, Helen wrote the seller a mini-essay detailing why we’d be perfect owners for this dog as we already have a similar breed in the half Old English/half Newfoundland poodle CJ. The seller seemed to agree and came round the next day to visit Helen to see if we were the right type of people.
Later that day, I got a call. We have a new dog. Apparently the seller was suitably impressed and left the dog instantly, so as not to prolong the trauma of separation. He had even bought all the papers, food, toys and paraphernalia just in case we were. That’s efficiency.
Boom. Done. Dusted.
So something I thought would take a few weeks was resolved in 24 hours and now we have a new dog – a six-month old Old English Sheepdog puppy called Scully. I say puppy, she appears to be just as big as CJ. And she’s going to get bigger.
It’s fair to say my initial reaction was something like this.
We’ve now had Scully for three days and it’s been a baptism of fire for her. We had friends down for the weekend, and the past two days has seen her inflicted to a medieval festival, loud music, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade on 5.1 surround sound and, of course, CJ.
Apparently she came from a very quiet household where she didn’t often see other dogs, so naturally there has been a lot of excitement. And by excitement, I mean for the past two days she has been weeing herself with excitement over the smallest things.
Yay. The house now smells like a men’s bathroom in a pub.
Helen however has been Johnny on the Spot with carpet cleaner, puppy pads and all that malarky, however it’s CJ that seems the most bemused by it all.
Scully is quite loud and barks at everything. In comparison, CJ just lies there throwing us the odd look of “Who the hell is this young upstart that’s barking a motorbikes and at you wearing your cycle helmet?”
She’s also been putting Scully in her place if she a) gets near her food b) interrupts her when she’s trying to sleep and c) gets between her and myself and Helen. Clearly she’s trying to establish her dominance in the pecking order and has been doing so with some quite aggressive growling and barking.
Needless to say, I hope it all calms down soon, but the past three days have been loud…
The office seems like almost a welcome respite.
Still, she is very adorable and fluffy. Like Ambrosius in Labyrinth.