Well, what an adventure.
Mark has had a day off, and we have got a new poopy and Roger Original Poopy is utterly and completely infatuated.
His infatuation is taking one or two fairly unmentionable forms at the moment and so we will draw a veil over some of it. However fortunately it appears to be mutual so far, and the new poopy is curled up across his back, with her nose stuffed firmly and adoringly into his ear, on the seat next to me, They are both asleep and I am trying to write around Roger Poopy’s nose which keeps slipping on to the screen. This is a complete nuisance.
We are somewhere in Yorkshire. I do not know where. We are in the camper van in our way over to see my parents. My parents are not expecting us so it will be a midnight surprise.
How pleased they will be.
It is a budget poopy. It was the last one of the litter and it has been hanging around for so long that its owners had despaired of getting rid of it and also it is horribly ugly. It has bulging eyes and a much-too-short nose, which we are hoping will grow to a decent dog sort of length. It is snuffly, because of the poor short nose, but also it is possibly suffering from hay fever, because it has got sore eyes and keeps sneezing. Mark says it is because its hair is in its eyes and it will probably be fine with a haircut. It is stout and sturdy which he says means that probably it has not got any serious problems, because sickly dogs do not get fat.
It won’t be pretty even with a haircut, but Roger Poopy does not seem to care.
It is, however, brave and excited and comes when it is called. It does not have a name yet, so far we have thought of Snuffly or Stinky, either of which would suit it very well indeed. At any rate it comes bouncing up when we shout Come Here The Dogs, probably because it is following Roger. It thinks that this is very thrilling indeed, and is so pleased with itself that it is wagging its whole body with its tail as a sort of afterthought at the back.
It is going to be easy to train. It likes eating very much indeed, and almost ate my fingers when I offered them all some cheese. Roger Poopy thought it might be small enough to be pushed out of the way, because he likes cheese as well, and thought perhaps he could have two pieces, but this turned out to be mistaken, when it turned into a small, violent, fluffy savage.
Roger Poopy’s father has sniffed it, wagged his tail, and settled down to sleep next to the heater. This is a good sign. He has not either growled or bitten it, so far, and is regarding it with a sort of weary tolerance.
Mark had a day off today, with another one to follow tomorrow, and so we did not get up in a hurry. We took the dogs out for a long walk through the woods and along the bottom of the fell, and we were just having some cheese on toast for a mid-afternoon breakfast when the phone rang, and it was the puppy lady, after which everything turned into a frenzy of camper van packing. We have got to get back tomorrow, obviously, although not until tomorrow night, but by the time we thought we might visit my parents it was almost eleven, and too late to telephone.
We are there now. We pulled up outside just as their bedroom light went out, and so we thought probably it would be better not to hammer on the front door.
It can be a surprise in the morning.
