Category Animals

I love dogs.  Chances are, I probably love them more than most humans (no offence), so when a story comes out about how dogs have attacked another human, I immediately want to leap to their defence.  Why?  Because it’s not their fault.  They’re dogs.  They have no idea what they’re doing!  They’re doing what we taught them to do.

Dogs are like children in that they need our guidance, they pick up on our bad habits, and we have to clean their shit up.  Unlike children, they never grow up, and they’ll never understand a word that comes out of our mouth...

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The title is a line said by Bartok in my favourite animated film, Anastasia.  It’s true, too.  It really is.  Therefore, in honour of how stressed I’m feeling, I’ve created a post of some of the things that make me smile in the hopes that if you’re feeling stressed it will help you, too.

Any No Doubt song makes me feel better, but this is usually the first one I put on.

I think that the video for this is hilarious, and I like the metaphor. Whenever I hear it now, I’m reminded of taking my nan to get her pension yesterday, and her subconsciously tapping along…

This song brings back a lot of memories for me. Let’s just say that…

The little guy in this is so cute. For some reason, it always makes me laugh.

The same advert but to the tune of LMFAO’s Sexy and I Know It, that I found whi...

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For a long time people have told me that I have good instincts and that I should follow them.  What I find ironic is that when I try to, people often ignore me.  For example, before George died, I said, over and over, that there was something wrong with him: he kept looking at me as if to say, “Help me,” and nobody believed me when I told them.  Perhaps nothing could have been done even if we had have taken him to the vets, given that they said he would’ve been on medication for the rest of his life had they found out what was wrong, but that’s not the point.  Everyone told me that I was paranoid, but my instincts had been right.

It’s very rare that I follow them because it’s difficult for me to be able to tell the difference between my instincts and my paranoia, but, as I’m getting ol...

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Last week, I decided that Merlin needed to go to the vets.  ”Why?” you ask?  ”What was wrong with your adorable puppy?  Well, ever since we’ve had him, he’s had an upset stomach on and off.  We thought it was food allergies, so changed his food, and he’d be fine for a while, then it would start again, so we changed his food again.  He’d been wormed, so we assumed it wasn’t that.  Then, over the last couple of weeks, he’s also started scratching/biting himself.  After what happened with George, I didn’t want to take any chances, so Mum and I took him to the vets.

We weighed him – he was a perfectly health 26.5kg – then took him inside, told the vet, and she nodded in agreement as she spoke...

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My mum has talked about taking our dogs swimming for a long time (since we had George as a puppy), so I shouldn’t have been surprised when she text me saying that she’d booked Merlin in for a doggy swim session on Saturday night, despite the price (£16 for half an hour).  I didn’t like the price, but it was her money, her decision, so I went along for a laugh (and to lend my car, since she just had a new one yesterday and didn’t want fur/wet dog in it).  Below is a video and some photos of his journey…

Merlin preparing himself…

Merlin, resting by Mum’s leg after his first swim.

Mid-swim…

On the way home, clearly not impressed.

Nearly home…

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Sometimes it’s difficult to tell who’s going more senile in my house.  There’s Nan, who’s eighty one, has the best memory out of all three of us, but tends to burn foods and sometimes get names mixed up.  There’s Mum, who used to have hearing like the BFG but now can’t hear people shout in the room next door, then there’s me and my terrible memory (I have to write almost EVERYTHING down).

I got woken up this morning by Mum shouting Merlin from her bedroom window to get him in from outside.  I went downstairs because he wasn’t listening to Nan and was ignoring the invisible voice, then when I went back upstairs, went into Mum.  She told me that Nan had been shouting for a Marlow, which would explain why Merlin didn’t come in...

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Despite having a whole page all about Merlin, I’ve never actually written a post about him. I figure it’s about time that I did.  Let’s get the basics over with for those of you that haven’t checked out his page: Merlin is a nine-month-old kleptomaniac Siberian Husky, pictured below.

He’s incredibly intelligent, but also very devious.  When he wants to be, he’s the most perfect dog there is, but when he’s doesn’t, he steals, he chews, and he bounces of the walls.

According to certain people – my mum, my boyfriend, my nan, several of my friends – Merlin and I are a lot alike.  I honestly have no idea what they’re talking about...

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This morning I had the worst wake up call I’ve ever heard.  I woke up to the sound of my mum sobbing.  I knew she’d come explain when she was ready, so I lay in bed waiting.  Then she burst into my room and said not only the last thing I expected to hear, but the worst: “Kristina, George is dead!”  George, being our beloved three-year-old Golden Retriever.  It was so out of the blue no one saw it coming, but he died of heart failure caused by a tumour that could’ve been there since he was born for all we know.  Nobody knows how long it could’ve been there.  And we never will.

Having someone taken away from you like that is cruel, and it hurts...

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