Bad Dag

Daglass pissed IN my snow boots this morning. He also hunted down a spaniel yesterday. This is a picture of him moments before I realised what he was so excited about.

As you can see, I NEED my snow boots.

The spaniel was alright, but the three people walking it didn't seem to trust that I was alright getting the hounds back on the lead. I did forget that one of the people still had hold of Fizz's collar - I'd asked him to, while I grabbed Dag who had escaped again to torment the brown furball a little bit more. The Fizz-holder had a really nice camera. The other boy had dreadlocks and the girl (who I think responsibility chiefly fell to) said she thought the brown thing yelped because he wasn't winning. I think it was more likely because Daglass mawed his jaws around its neck and trampled him to the ground, but y'know. I had a better view as they hurtled towards me. I felt like shit (got a cold) and I sounded like I felt like shit, too. Weak, feeble girl. I wish I'd been a bit more jovial at the time, but I never think it's good to make friends when your (fortunately) toothless dog has just tried to maul the (idiotic) cherished family pet of newly-made acquaintance. Spaniels are idiots, though, aren't they? As if you'd try to race a Greyhound if you were a spaniel.

Just a picture

DSC_0459
Originally uploaded by lady_grinning_soul

To prove I know how to do Flickr to Blogger and stuff. Good eh?

One of you has farted.

The dogs are in the bedroom, sleeping. Fizz, like the Princess who detected a pea, is laid on at least three quilts. They both have two coats on. Fizz only owns one, so I've actually come home to find my dog is wearing one of my jumpers. This is because the double glazing is being put in; living room, bedroom and patio doors. No longer do I need worry about someone kicking my patio in (or falling over and landing in the house - flimsy is not the word, mes amigos).

My windows are suddenly HUGE.

Had I remembered that Rich had the day off so he could be in while this happened, I wouldn't have rushed home half way through Christmas shopping having falsely remembered the dogs were valiantly holding back turtle heads. Ah, well. Shopping is shit anyway. He did get a video of the pair of them going hell for leather on the green 'bit' right next to our street. I'll see what the quality's like before I upload it here.

xx

Throaty

Daglass does this thing when he's sniffing. Because of the side teeth he's missing, the sides of his mouth puff in with every sniff; what should be a very quiet pastime sounds more like air-glugging. A bit like the sound you get when you pour a liquid from a small necked bottle or a teapot and the air rolls back in, but more of a pup-pup-pup, slowed-down horsey sigh than the liquid one, which I hate. It helps that he has a very deep growl. The sound of it is in there somewhere, rolling about in his throat. I've read, though Greyhounds are sighthounds, they also have a very good sense of smell.

Daglass threw himself down the stairs with great aspirations yesterday evening. It's a good job Richard was at the bottom to break his pace or he'd have collided with the wall. We've been trying to teach him to use them, as we had to with Fizz; he has less fear, and less stability in his front legs it would seem. Plus he's longer and a little bit taller, so the kinesthetics are different for him. He almost seems too big for them, but they're too steep for him to bound over, arc-like. Through the beginning of the second arc he'll collide, like I said, into the wall. So for now, I'm quite glad that he hasn't attempted to master 'up' without being two steps from the top yet. Fizz just did it, one day. We came home and she was up there, snoozing triumphantly. But not until she had it wired. I fear for this one's life, I really do.

After the drama (and lots of yelling in the loft from Rich, who was trying to set up his X-Box Live account; from what I can tell, Microsoft are awkward fuckers) the pair of them shared a bed last night, for a few hours at least. Distance spooning, with their heads hidden under the frame of my bed, before I was even in it. They settled down and made it doubly difficult for me to tidy up.

Observe.

Everybody happy? You bet your life we are.

Some pictures.

This is Daglass. I've just looked up 'teeth chattering' because he does that a lot - apparently it's a sign of excitement. Squee. Me too, fella.

The pair of them have been on alert today - two parcels (thanks Mum, thanks Microsoft), and the letterbox just went. Aside from that, the other extreme. Fizz has been snoring. Dag smells like a gas chamber, which we thought was because of his antibiotics but he's been off them since the weekend. He's also taken to resting his head on the keyboard when he wants attention. He's a leaner, too. The moment you stop walking, he decides we aren't going any further, stops sideways in front, and relax.

I ought to show you Fizz, non? Oui.

It's a much better picture. But I've had six months of time to practice with her. More of Dag as he gets better at not running off, I promise. Time for breakfast (alright, lunch).

This might be one of the most cheese things I've done so far.

This is my dog blog.

The 'dog blog' title has been used so many times, I've named this one after my gods, I mean dogs, Fizz and Daglass. Fizz was here first, but Daglass Fizz sounds like a racing name in itself, no? They are, in fact, ex racers, so that's fitting. And it's staying.

Daglass is on trial. I'm sure I'm legally required to say he's not legally ours. But we're allowed to keep him, if we want, so I'm pretty sure we'll be adopting him soon. He's named after Rick Dagless MD, I should add, but I like our spelling better. My spelling. Don't think Rich has really thought about it. (Co-owner, co-habiter, my other half.) Specifically, he's named after that bit in One Track Lover where Sanchez says 'I wish I was more attractive, like Dagless...'

Cue excellent link. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BH4_mZh-bj8

Now you'll all understand.