When I need you

A pinch and a punch for the first of the month – and no returns!

Today has mainly been spent trying to prevent Beattie eating herself. In the past when we’ve all been away we’ve either taken the dogs down to stay with my mother (until her dog and one of ours decided they hated each other) or got house-sitters in. The sitters have been excellent, and meant that not only could the dogs stay in their own home, the house was occupied (and so guarded) as well. And for roughly the same price as kennelling four dogs – provided you can even find a kennel that has space for four all in together. Yes, it’s very odd, and not entirely pleasant, having strangers living in your house, but they look after it well, and the last one not only mowed the lawn for us, she also picked and froze the vegetables from the garden for us, so they weren’t wasted.

Anyway, when we went away last we left the dogs and homestead in the novice hands of the Boy. The dogs were fed and walked (I know that because a) the neighbours told us and b) sometimes when I popped back I walked them myself), but obviously they knew things weren’t quite right. Beattie is a very intense soul, who always tries her very very best to get everything right, and is filled with apologies if anything goes wrong – she gets upset if one of the others gets told off, let alone her. So, just as an unsettled child will suck its thumb in times of stress, she has the common doggy habit of licking a front leg. Till it bleeds. Then, because it is bleeding and sore, their natural instinct is to lick it to make it better. Of course, no matter how persistently they lick it doesn’t heal – a bit like scrubbing hands clean with a wire brush; you can never get rid of all the blood. This morning when I came downstairs I was greeted by Beattie, front leg all gory. Silly dog. She’s fine when I’m near; the problem arises when she’s bored. So guess where it looks like I’ll be sleeping for the next few nights – yep, under the kitchen table with her. (Taking her upstairs wouldn’t help – she knows they’re not allowed up there, so that would stress her more.) I don’t think the Boy considered their mental health as well as their physical health. It’s all very well being loved, but it would be nice to not be quite so indispensable.