Doggy resolutions 2014

As I'm pretty perfect, it has been difficult to come up with improvements, but in the spirit of the evening, here are the things I "resolve" to do in 2014:

• Bark less in the garden. It's tough to cut down on this because I do feel that if you sense danger, you should bark on it. And often when I'm standing in the back garden, looking up at those high surrounding walls and the houses beyond, I think: how can they be so relaxed about this? Literally anything could just leap at us and we would have no escape. Foxes, rats, pigeons: you name it, I'm sure they out there. And so I bark. But in acknowledgment of the fact that some may find this annoying, and also of the fact that I often get treats for stopping, I will cease unless it is absolutely necessary.
• Be nicer to the small one. I'll admit it: he's made a bit of an effort lately, giving me treats often, giving me bits of his food, cuddling me (although I still consider this an invasion of personal space) and generally being just a bit more predictable than previously. So unless absolutely necessary for reasons of self defence, I'll guard my snarl. 
• Not try to rip the postman's hand off. I do know it's futile - he knows it's futile too, that's why he laughs. But all the same, what if he did actually get his hand inside our door? I'm actually doing him a favour by being so vicious sounding that he has to retract it immediately. He's in less danger of getting his hand stuck. Nevertheless, again, I am probably causing unnecessary offence. He looks like a decent chap. And he hasn't actually tried to break in once yet. And I am sick of getting that paper stuck in the back of my mouth too.
• Stop getting so muddy. This one is realllllyyyyy hard as I do love mud. The problem is that every time I get muddy, they shower me. It's a nightmare. The thing I love most in the world causes the thing I hate most. It's almost karmic. I must break this perpetual cycle and be more moderate in my mud basking. I have noted that I can get away with a mere wipe of the paws if I don't overdo it. 
• Keep being my loveable self. If it ain't broke, as they say....

Guilt - and how to make the most of it. A guide for dogs.

Bone. I've gatta bone. You've not gatta bone. I've gatta bone.
Squeaky ball. I've gatta squeaky ball. You've not gatta squeaky ball. I've gatta squeaky ball.
New type of food. I've gatta... you get it now.
I've got a load of new shit. I don't know what I've done to deserve it because to be frank, I've been a seriously grumpy, aloof pups lately (yeah in fact don't call me that anymore, I'm 2 and a half).
I bark all the time at the window, especially if it is a) a skateboard b) a motorbike c) another dog d) a group of braying children. I am demanding a) of walks b) of food c) of attention. And I have made it absolutely clear that I am not interested in friendship or indeed any positive interaction with the small one (and we all know he kicks me DELIBERATELY, let's not pretend). And I smell and make deliberate efforts to smell more wherever possible by rolling in fox poo and running through stagnant muddy pools.
So I can't think why I've suddenly been bestowed with these items - rewards usually, when I've done nothing that warrants reward and in fact have been trying my damnedest to do the opposite.
I can only conclude that it must be guilt. And this is legacy guilt, I think, because they've only just started noticing me enough again to even care.
If this is the case, my new strategy should be to MAKE THEM FEEL AS GUILTY AS POSSIBLE AT ALL TIMES. I honestly don't think this should be too difficult. Glum dog face is easy. Rest head on paws, sigh excessively, lower ears and turn face to back of sofa. Job done. New treat on its way.
You humans. You are so easy to read.
Now I think about it, that's probably why they took me to that great new park the other day too. We are all getting a bit bored of the regular one. They feel guilty, they take me to a new park. Guilt - makes my world go round.

Is that a flea, or am I just pleased to see you?

There's an itch at the end of my tail. And another beneath my leg. It is a familiar itch.
Normally they do something about it instantly. They put some kind of wet stuff on my tail and neck and then the itch goes away.
This time, they said they don't have any and have to go and buy some.
Well, do so please, now, quick, because I can't go down that road to misery again.
I don't want the humiliation of a flea wash. I don't want the constant stress of having to bite the little buggers to death.
Look at me, I'm beautiful. I shouldn't have to put up with this shit.

The dread of not knowing if tonight will be the night when all of those little white eggs will suddenly hatch, hatch, pop in my fur and feast on my skin to celebrate their freedom. It is not if, it is when. This is a race against time. Just because it is Sunday night and all the shops are closed doesn't mean you can't find the wet stuff we need somewhere. You aren't trying hard enough.
Which one of you mongrels did it? Which one? Which one of you conglomerated the nest of fleas in your fur and deigned to come close enough to me to facilitate the infestation? This is why I stay away from my own kind. Seriously. They're crazy, dangerous and have fleas. I should not have fleas. I am Henry pups, the invincible. I'm a celebrity, get me out of here.

If you want to know, if they love you so it's in the food (and it isn't)

Yeah no joke I've been depressed for the last year and a bit. Couldn't write. Couldn't even think, so loud were his shrieks and wails, so frenzied his movements, it's been all I can manage to get up the stairs and hide under the bed.
The small person is now 18 months old. We are not, nor will we ever be, friends.
Yes, I might accept the treats he proffers. Yes, I might occasionally sniff his outstretched hand, or bum, and I will naturally defend him against other dogs because I can't help my instincts (I would if I could) but to me, he will always be the one that stole their affections. The usurper. The outsider. I was here first, right, and finder's keeper's.
I took a vow quite early on that I would never allow a camera to frame the two of us together. I have managed this. Here I am alone, as it should be.

I suppose I should be grateful to him for being here, because what it has taught me is I am a survivor. I know myself now. I know I can cope without cuddles, without regular bones, without the quantity of walks I had come to expect. I can cope, even, with eating those dry, hard biscuits day in, day out, which provide me only with nutritional sustenance and 0 satisfaction. I can do all of this because I am like Beyonce, independent, a survivor. But I won't pretend to like it.

They are the infidels. I will not go near them as long as he is present. I will not give them the chance to reject me further. Only when he is gone will I deign to approach and only when they have proven to me that they are undistracted by him can we be as one again, as we once were. So this is usually after about 7.30pm, when he is dormant, although this hour is getting later, which is a bit of a problem, for all of us it seems. For the longer he is awake the less, quiet, peaceful, oneness that I can have with them on the thing they call "sofa". The less they rub my neck and let me sniff their faces. Oh! I could live without food for a thousand years if they would only cuddle me!  

There has lately been talk of another potential issue. Another of the same small ones. Will they or won't they? I need to know. I need time to think about this. Honestly, the thought fills me with dread, because it would most certainly mean I will have to spend more unsupervised time with W.. W... W... I can't even say his name.

I didn't want to say this but I have to - he tried to kick me today. All because I tried to eat some of his cheese ("his" - there should be no such thing). There - I've admitted it. I'm being abused by the small one now. Luckily, Mummy (though she no longer deserves the title) did move me out the way and shouted at HIM for a change. But it does make me feel more unsafe. Even more so than I did before, what with him, the vacuum cleaner, the steam cleaner, the drill, the mop, the lawn mower and the hair dryer.

When will it end? Oh, when will it end? If only I could escape. But I can't can I? I'm here, stuck, alone, a dog in a house of imbeciles. No decent bones, no decent meat, no decent treats. Only the occasional piece of stolen cheese. A crumb of toast, sometimes with a smidge of butter. I can't take it. I need a lie down.

An arrival

Fans, I bring bad tidings. A dark cloud has descended over Henry pups (yes, third person creates a necessary distance between me and my new unfortunate reality.) There has been a new arrival, one that everyone else seems very excited about. But not Henry pups. I knew something was up when she wouldn't let me sniff him. Well, I got a foot, but that is hardly enough to go on. Then, she attached him to a part of her body I don't recall seeing much before (now I see it all the bloody time). This meant that she couldn't play with me or fuss me at all. I tried to work out what this was about for myself - I tried to lick the thing that he is permanently attached to, but I was shouted at. This was quite upsetting. Then, he cried. Fans, you have never heard anything like it. It sounds a bit like one of my squeaky toys but it lasts for longer and is more high-pitched. Mummy, what is this banshee that you have brought into our midst, and moreover, why do you appear to love it, even when it makes noise, smells of poo and stops you having fun?
These were my immediate reactions. And three months on (yes, it has taken me three months to gather my thoughts on this matter well enough to blog) I cannot say they have changed much. To be fair, it isn't really him (they call him "pie") that's the problem. It is Mummy. He is just a thing that distracts her from me. The issue is: how can she be distracted? I was her Alpha and Omega; her moon and stars. Now, I am something to feed and walk. She can say what she likes, I know the truth. And it hurts.
I tried to inform Mummy of how much by pooing and weeing all over the room in which he sleeps, the room in which they play with him and not with me, the locus of my misery: the nursery. This of course backfired and I realised as soon as I had done it that it would. But it felt good at the time. As does chewing his toys and bath sponges and lying on his soft lamby when I am wet and dirty.
One plus: I've been given a LOT more treats lately. This seems to be making it harder for me to do things like run, but God do I love it. They keep saying they feel guilty, then giving me treaties. Well all I can say is I hope they continue to feel guilty as it means more tastiness for me.
Life has become more bearable in the last couple of weeks when compared with the chaos of the first three weeks after his appearance. I mean, we do still get to go for walks, he isn't on Mummy all the time any more and he does seem to have started giving me a bit of attention, which of course is all I need to get by. And he is quite cute to look at, I suppose.
I do wonder if I will ever get over this spurn. My world has come crashing down. Think I'm exaggerating? You'd be wrong. But they don't call me Henry "tenacious" Pups for nothing. I'm the Chumba Wumba of dogs - I've been knocked down, but I will get up again, and when I do, I will climb all over him and lick his sweet little face and one day, I hope Mummy won't mind.

My whole life has changed

Me at the top of the new stairs

Apols for sounding dramatic Henry fans, but it is true. One minute I was sniffing around the stadium, weeing up the grey gates and heading in the direction of Gillespie Park, the next, after a particularly cramped car journey, I'm in a big empty house. Were we on holiday here? Well, I thought so at first didn't I. But we've been in this big house now, which has stairs that are too steep for my legs, for one month now. It has all of our stuff in it. I'm beginning to suspect this is a permanent arrangement.

Me in new park

How to feel about this? Hmm.. Well, as with everything. There are pluses and minuses. Pluses: It has a garden with diggy bits (called flowerbeds) and chewy stuff (called plants) - I'm not allowed to dig or chew these things... but I do; there are new sniffs; there is a cool park at the end of the road with new dogs in it, who are big and chasey; I can see out the front window onto the street, where people walk; there is an interesting black area in the lounge that is really nice and cool on my belly when I lie down; there is a really nice new soft furry rug in the bedroom for me to roll on.

Me looking out of window from inside

Me looking out of window from outside

Minuses: Bloody steep stairs everywhere one wants to go, the garden does not have grass, just paving, so not great for wees; I can see the people outside of the window but I can't always get them to notice me; I can see cats but I cannot chase them; mummy has erected something called a Henry gate between the kitchen and lounge, which is often closed when we get back from a walk and I'm muddy; no Jeanie; no nice concierge men.

Me in new digging pit (flowerbed - w'evs)

Me lying on nice cold black thing in lounge

So like I said, pluses and minuses. But then, there is this unsettled feeling in my tummy sometimes, like something else is about to happen, like all of this is just a precursor to something else. I reckon it is linked to the room with a door that is always closed that is full of toys that are not mine. I also reckon it might have to do with Mummy's huge tummy, which is so unfathomably large now that she has to sort of sling me over her shoulder a bit to carry me. It also means she can't bend down to catch me so easily or run to chase me - haha Mummy - you can't catch me. You are a fatty - haha. That's what I say to her sometimes when we are in the park. I'm only messing around, of course.

How to relax

It has occurred to me that you lot (people) are really rubbish at this. You fidget, you move things around, you make noise. What was it that great poem that I love said? "Go placidly, amid the noise and haste". Well I hope you don't mind the boast, but I have this DOWN, whereas you lot, well... you have a lot to learn. Here are my tips:






1) Know when to stop.

I know it can be tough when you are having fun, or doing whatever it is that you lot do in front of screens all the time, but sometimes you have to just stop, then flop, give yourself a proper break, not a half one where you are still sort of doing something else like talking on the phone. You must do nothing at all. Then you will be able to give your full energy to doing things again afterwards, like chasing pigeons, tearing up bits of tissue or saying hello to people. The reason I am able to do all these things so whole-heartedly is that I rest in-between, like this....




2) Position is everything

When you rest, you must do so somewhere quiet - cold if it is warm outside, warm if it is cold inside, preferably dark and preferably soft (although hard floors do have their own appeal). How you lie very much depends on the circumstances (btw. lying is always best - you lot sort of half sit/ half lie - just lie down!). You must be flexible. For instance, I sometimes like to lie on my back to feel the cool air on my belly, as below, but nb. only do this when you are with people/ dogs that you absolutely trust - probably not a good one for down the park:



3) I always recommend a companion for ultimate dozing satisfaction. You can lie next to them, on them, or just touching them. It is best if they are also fully relaxed, or else they might disturb you. Here are a couple of me with Daddy (usually best in the mornings as he rarely moves at all for several hours). Mummy generally moves around too much, but Lucky the Dalmatian is a reliable option too if no one else is around, given that he is inanimate.

4) Finally, let it all go loose, as Basement Jaxx once advised. There is no need to be self-conscious about what you look like when asleep, if you are, you'll miss out on the chance to sleep in all sorts of alternative locations, like on the train, in the car, in someone's house that you barely know (although honestly I find this difficult too as it is usually so exciting being somewhere else).

Encomium to Jeanie Pups

Me and Jeanie Pups

I have mentioned Jeanie a couple of times now without really expanding much, which is really a travesty as she has brought me so much joy I really do owe her a few lines. Jeanie is a minature schnauzer. She is 8 months old, which is one month younger than me. She is grey and white and so, so soft and biteable.

Our paws first met about 5 months ago. We were both out for busys, but our Mums took our leads off so we could play - and how we played. We wrestled, we mouthed, we licked.. We did the "bear dance", which is where both of us stand on hind legs, put our paws together and see who falls over first. We chased. In Jeanie, I discovered exhilarations previously unknown. I don't know if it was her keen eyes, or the way she bounced horizontally and wagged her tail that drove me so crazy. Maybe it was the taste of her tongue, or the way she pinned me to the ground and nuzzled my neck with her teeth. 

She really is the most fun. We play for hours and hours. Sometimes, I like to put something cuddly or chewy in my mouth and run round and round Jeanie to make her want it too. Of course, she always wants it, and so chases me round and round. Sometimes Jeanie puts something in her mouth and does the same thing. It sort of sounds boring when you write it down, but I promise you it isn't. It makes me all breathless and thirsty.

Anyway, we usually see Jeanie (Mummy calls her Jeanie pups, like she calls me Henry pups - together we are The Pups) about once a day or once every other day. We hadn't seen each other for the last few weeks though because apparently Jeanie was "in season", which meant I couldn't see her as even though I have "been done", she still might have made me more excited than I usually am when I see her. We also once didn't see Jeanie for a while because my busys were all wrong. But we are back being The Pups again this week, and it makes me so happy. Here are some of the highlights from yesterday:

The (fake) submission

The "play with me" pose

The leg chew

The roll

The face nuzzle

The invitation

The rear neck grip

The face twist

The leg/ face grapple

The neck pin

Jeanie trying to get the thing in mouth

Putting thing in mouth

Nuzzly pups

The face chew

The surprise rear pounce

Breather

The spin

The love

Meaty bone - I love you

Nom nom nom nom....chomp.... nom nom nom.

Revolutionary. That is the only way to describe this experience. And sublime. At first I wasn't sure, I mean, the meat wasn't cooked and it looked so.. big. But one lick, and I belonged to that bone. There was nowhere it would go that I would not follow. No bit too hard I would not chew. It seemed inconceivable that I would ever want another food stuff again. For two hours I pawed, mawed, nudged, licked and gnawed at this manna from dog heaven. I dragged it around the floor. Mummy moved it back to the newspaper. I dragged it around some more. Oh bone - you are so beautiful to me...Did my heart love til now? You, with your fatty sinews, your soft, glistening, moist pillows of meat, your crunch: so salty, so satisfying. I want more, but I don't want you to end. I buried you inside my yellow towel, but your temptation was too much - I returned, and licked some more. Until you were unceremoniously shoved inside an ocado bag and confined to the fridge. But I tell you bone, you were tiring. I slept for two solid hours after our first encounter. But it was a good tired. The best I've ever had. Bone, bone, I long for our reunion. Come back to me soon. I'm alone without you, bone.

Why my stars are not aligned

I've been going through a bit of an unlucky spell this week. First, there was the noisy barking dog in the park. We'd only just got there when I heard it, and I wasn't about to find out what was behind it... I looked at Mummy, she looked at me.... I turned on my heels and ran.. I ran for my life, to be safe and away from the barking monster dog. Back down the path, Mummy screaming behind me to stay, but Mummy, DIDN'T YOU HEAR IT?!

I just kept going.. we got to the pavement, I kept going. "Where should I go?" I thought. "Where else but back home" came the voice in my head.. so I hot-footed it over the road and back through the grey gates into our development, whereupon I did a little squitty poo. Well, at this point, Mummy had caught up with me. She looked a mess. Really destraught, a bit shaky. She applied my lead, as I always knew she would, and we continued in silence back to the flat.

I've never been that scared of another dog before and I've never run away like that before either. I can't really explain it - it is just how I felt at the time. I've noticed that my lead has remained on for all subsequent walks, however, so it obviously wasn't a good idea.

Bad luck number 2: Dental floss. It was Mummy's fault - she was teasing me with it, making me want it, that minty, tasty string... so when she wasn't looking I just ate it. Daddy tried to get it out of my mouth but by then it was too late - it was mostly in my mouth by then so I just gobbled up the last bit. Again, Mummy sort of changed colour. It has been two days now since and the dental floss must still be inside me. We keep going to the vets about it but apparently there is nothing any of us can do except wait and hope it comes out soon...apparently it can cause a lot of damage - "cheesewiring" my intestines or something. I hope it comes out soon.

Bad luck 3: Seriously, that cat must have cursed me.. there is never this much wrong in one go... So last week, Mummy and I both sort of noticed around the same time that I had developed some little scabby, itchy pimples on my head. Since then, they have multiplied and around my ears and travelling down my back.. the vet has been looking at them, Mummy keeps touching them, which I don't like, and I just keep wanting to scratch, scratch them away... but they don't go away, they just hurt more, and more keep appearing. I am so afflicted.

Bad luck 4: Mauling. Rottweiler. Seemed friendly enough at first, then I wasn't sure why it was drooling, why it pinned me underneath it, or why it was making that low growling sound... and then it went for it... it tried to bite me, it tried to wrestle me with its big, harsh paws... I squealed, Mummy pulled me away.... I was safe. Why it didn't like me I don't know - I tried to run back up to it afterwards to make it like me but Mummy just kept pulling me away... but I wasn't HURT or anything so I don't see why I couldn't go back over... maybe if I'd just wagged my tail at her a bit more, got a bit lower to the ground, or licked her tongue? We'll never know - but Henry is not to be defeated by this one act of aggression, oh no, it will take more than that to knock out my stuffing. Rottweilers, honestly.

My first strip

Lady puppies - contain yourselves - it is not that kind of stripping. What I am talking about is much less sexy, much more brutal, although the results are curiously satisfying.
I have just been stripped for the first time. Hand-stripped then (shudder) "carded", by a pleasant lady called Kate. It was confusing that such a pleasant lady should do such unpleasant things to me. She literally pulled my hair out with her bare hands. Now, I'm not saying that my hair wasn't really annoying me and making me all hot and bothered. But please, is there not some other way? Must I be subjected to this humiliating ordeal?
And whilst the results are pleasing on a practical level, aesthetically I'm not so sure. Before, I had what you might call teddy bear charm. A shaggy, scruffy appearance that everyone seemed to love. Now, my whole look is much more neat and tidy, still cute, but without that rugged edge...You must be dying to see it anyway... I won't keep you in suspense any longer..

What do you reckon Henry fans? Still got it?

20 reasons to be mad

1. It is raining outside
2. There were no dogs in the park
3. Mummy is doing stuff on the computer and not playing with me
4. I am wet and muddy
5. I keep getting told off for weeing inside, but being told off makes me want to do it more
6. I am bored
7. What on earth is that giant furry thing that is all squishy and noisy that Mummy brought home yesterday and she keeps sitting on? I hate it. I want to bite it and dig at it constantly, so much that it literally drives me crazy. I want it to leave again
8. I want to eat the olive tree and get shouted at every time I do
9. I want to eat the black thing that Mummy talks on but got shouted at for that as well
10. I am bored of my toys
11. Daddy completely ignored me before he went to work this morning.
12. I hate Mummy and Daddy
13. There are so many better places to be than in this flat, even when it is raining, why can't we go to them?
14. I can't jump onto the bed by myself
15. When I jump onto the coffee table, which is nice and cool on my belly, I am removed from it.

16. Where is Jeanie and why can't she be here all the time?

17. Mummy has shut the living room door so I can't go into the bedroom
18. Mummy is boring.
19. Being a puppy is so restricting, I can never just do my own thing. Why do I always have to go on that stupid lead?
20. Why can't I just eat what is in the fridge?

Observations on change

I think it was Heraclitus who said: "No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man." Well, if you replace "man" with "dog", it still applies. And this is what I have been thinking about lately.

The Thinker

Here are some things that have been changing lately:

- My size. It was small and I could fit in my basket and all other dogs looked big. Now I can't really fit in my basket (er, new one please Mummy) and some dogs I actually find a bit on the small side nowadays, like chihuahuas and maltesers. I still prefer bigger dogs, I don't know why, I guess I just identify more with them. But it is amazing - the world seems a less daunting place now I am bigger.

- My busys. This may be TMI (Mummy taught me that phrase), but they change all the time. Right now it is baaadddd, runny and smelly and makes me feel funny. When the busy changed, then soon after my food changed as well and I started to get this soft mushy, well, bland if I am honest, stuff instead. Also at this time, we stopped going for walks with Jeanie and Mummy and Daddy kept trying to shove things in my mouth. Mummy and Daddy were always hanging around me and stroking and patting me and saying "poor little thing". It has been a time of great dietary as well as physical and emotional upheaval, all seemingly linked with my busys.

- Mummy's tummy. It is getting bigger. Not just a bit bigger like bloating, but progressively more and more huge. She keeps her hand on it a lot and won't let me walk around on it like I used to. She talks to it, puts tasty lotions on it, puts headphones on it. It is a bit distracting really. It is no way more interesting than me.

- While other things get smaller as I get bigger, another thing that is getting annoyingly bigger is Jeanie. She used to be smaller than me, now she is bigger, even though I am a month and three days older than her. It doesn't matter too much, because like I said, I am way more confident nowadays, but it does mean she can jump on stuff and I can't follow her, including on me.

Jeanie trying to jump on my head

- Smells. Smells are like that river Heraclitus was on about. Constantly changing, always fascinating, and each time I smell a new smell, I feel like I change a bit too, like he said.. I feel more confident with every sniff, more knowledgeable, more worldly. I am six months old now, equivalent to a 15-year old, in your terms. So it is no surprise really that I know so much is it? 

Why I am a little shitbag

"Little shitbag" face

Now, I don't exactly know what the expression "shitbag" means, ok, but this is just one of the many things Mummy has called me today. The others are:

- pesticles
- menace
- misterchiefs
- naughtyface
- trouble bucket
- a teenager

The use of these names has almost exactly coincided with the following behaviour:

- poos and wees indoors - two of each. The first round was at 5.30am. What else was I meant to do when I couldn't get outside and they didn't wake up on command? The second round was Mummy's fault. She had shut the back door to prevent me doing what I do with the plants (see below) so I couldn't get outside.

- shoving my face in the pots where the plants are to eat the soil, then dragging the soily, twiggy bits inside and shaking them around a bit. Soil is wondrous. Soft, earthy, moist - why wouldn't Mummy want it everywhere too? I brought it in to show her but I won't be making that mistake again. She took it off me then GOT RID of all the lovely soil with that noisy sucky machine. The picture above is me after the soil dragging. The picture below is what the balcony looked like afterwards.

I forgot to mention that I also stripped the olive tree of half of its branches/ leaves

- general exuberance, energy and independence of mind. I haven't been following Mummy around all day today - I have been doing my own thing. Because I can. This started yesterday with the independent chewing of cables (shouted at for that too). Then the independent chewing of the new oak tree sapling that I am given to understand was some sort of 30th birthday present for Mummy. Well, she should have got to it first then shouldn't she? I also chewed a birthday balloon, but didn't get shouted at much for this. See below.

That's balloon string wrapped round my face

It continued with the chewing of books, then the chewing of the cardboard box under the bed. All of these things I consider to be mega fun and a good and productive use of my time - it all helps improve my gnashers after all - but Mummy has a different take on things. Why does she always restrict me? Take things away? Shout "no!" loudly and scarily when I'm just having fun. Jeez Mummy perhaps you should have some from time to time and just loosen up a bit like me. Maybe get yourself a cardboard box to chew on or something.

Park life

So this is the pattern of a normal walk. We leave the flat. This bit is hugely exciting and I am always filled with anticipation, which I express by jumping and running about so Mummy can be in no doubt that I want this to happen very much. We go downstairs in a lift. This bit is boring but then not long until we get to the doors that you can see through to... OUTSIDE!!! Place of wonders, place of dreams, place of places to do busy busys freely. Obviously the first thing I do is busy one (up the pillar now because I can cock my leg up, but only the right one) then I do a little run, then sometimes busy two.
I always insist on us walking through the big garden where there are sometimes folks about before we go out into proper outside, with the roads and cars and stuff. Mummy sometimes resists this but I resist back and more often than not, this results in a Henry victory. So I have a little run around there and roll in the nice softy soft grass. There's always good sniffs about too. Once this walk phase is over (it can vary from 10 minutes to about half an hour, I'd guess) we go proper outside.
Now, I don't want to knock any of outside because it is all infinitely preferable to inside. But this in-betweeny bit is a bit tedious. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like the sniffs. There's loads. It is the ground that is the problem - it is all hard and scratchy, not soft and diggable, like ground really should be.

Here is me and mummy on the hard ground

Anyway, we only have to do this bit for about ten minutes before Allelujah! We get to acres and acres of grass! With people! And dogs! On this particular day there was lots of people lying on the floor, which affords brilliant access, as you can see from the below example:

Me jumping on fun lying down man

Oh yeah, then there was this big group of men that really liked me too, so I played with them for ages:

That's me, on top of the guy third from left

Also in parks, you don't need toys, because the ground provides many natural ones for you. Like.... STICKS! Best invention ever - they fit easily into the mouth, are light and easily transportable and can be chewed too. This one was a really good one:

Check it out

Also, an excellent thing about these places called parks is that I am allowed off the lead. Mummy says I shouldn't be as my recall is not very good and I always run over to people - and what if the people don't like me? But she lets me anyway because I am so cute. Look, here is me being really independent:

Look at my confident stride

So folks, that's a typical walk for you. We didn't see many other dogs on this one but usually there are loads. No matter, people are much better anyway. 'Til the next time.