Far worse than that is that for the past almost year he’s had a hernia and didn’t tell anyone, so it’s become twisted around his bowel and pretty much stopped it working, sealing the lower half of his colon so that it filled up and filled up and then burst, poisoning him with his own waste.
Drax, is very much like his human Daddy, in that he doesn’t bother to think things through before doing them. Yesterday evening he decided his dinner time was at 6.30pm, when in fact it’s at 8pm.
The breeze moves the leaves on the wisteria above the window, he barks… a magpie lands on the opposite neighbour’s front steps, he barks… a bug walks across the front path, so tiny I can barely see it, he barks… any movement of any sort by anything and he barks at it.
Guess who’s going to be lugging heavy boxes down two flights of stairs on their own.? Yeah, not Bear. So far he’s gone through his t-shirts…
I’m pretty certain 80’s chic is not a thing and I don’t need him starting a retro trend, it’s bad enough that Hammer pants have made a comeback here in the Netherlands.
He has a thing for my fluffy slippers and the strings on my hoodie.. well, my hoodie in general and seems to like biting my leg. From doing next to nothing, he’s now permanently doing something, usually something he shouldn’t be. Dear God, what possessed me to agree to this.?!
So then I shut my stupid brain up by browsing the ‘Net for beds and collars and leashes and harnesses and puppy toys and training equipment and puppy friendly, eco-friendly shampoo’s and conditioners and bath toys and towels and rope chews and squeaky toys and glow in the dark jingly things and stuff that would keep a nine week old puppy entertained and happy, so it didn’t think about chewing on stuff I’d rather it didn’t.
He doesn’t like being told what to do and whinges and whines about the self isolation and social distancing. The bloody fool thinks he’s invincible and that it won’t get him.
Earlier today I decided to clean my front window and started a ripple effect of productivity I didn’t mean to set in motion, but now that jobs have actually gotten done and with none of the usual tutting and sighing, I’m pretty pleased it happened that way.
I’m very much concerned about what my sister and her new husband will think of me. Hence the demure black dress and proper coloured hair. ‘Mutton dressed as lamb’ is not a label I need.