Tag Archives: Lady

Two Doggies in Love.

I don’t know who made the first move but here we have Max and Lady proving that love knows no distance and having a bit of an online chat. After all, Max lives all the way over in Hawaii, while Lady is a very long plane ride away in Australia.

As much as I love Max, his online shenanigans have made headlines of late:

https://withinthekstreets.wordpress.com/2015/02/15/max-the-catfish/

Lady tells me that Max is a “professor and a gentleman” and that she has styled herself as “Lady of Palm Beach”, even though that’s only where she goes for holidays and in real life, she’s actually more of a “ruff ruff” than a Lady.

Like so many in the online dating scene, Lady was also caught using a bit of hyperbole. Taking a leaf out of Odie’s book (Garfield), I even caught Lady telling Max that she’s read War & Peace.That’s right. Read it. That wasn’t fell asleep against it and used it as a pillow or chewed it up and devoured the first hundred pages. She wrote that she’d actually read and finished War & Peace.

Lying hound!

This is a dog who can’t even sit on command and stares doe-like with those big brown eyes whenever she has to try something new.

Well, I’m not quite sure what to make of this new online romance but I will be more careful about leaving my computer on and unattended when I duck out. I don’t know how much mischief two dogs can get up to online but I’m not about to find out either.

Besides, for all I know, that Max could really be the Old English Sheepdog from round the corner. You know what they say about online dating, you never can be too careful!!

xx Rowena

 

 

https://withinthekstreets.wordpress.com/2015/02/15/max-the-catfish/

Bilbo & Lady

Bilbo & Lady

Bilbo & Lady refuse to discriminate. They wish everyone a Merry Christmas regardless of how many legs you have and whether you do or do not have a tail. They hope everyone gets to eat gluttonously well without waking up with a tummy ache.

Love,

Bilbo & Lady xxoo

PS Lady is hoping Santa will still leave her a treat. She says that she’s been “naughty and nice” but does that matter? Don’t they sort of cancel each other out?

Lady has also repented a long list of crimes.

She is sorry for:

1) Eating Mummy’s Chocolate and Orange Muffin when she answered the door.

2) Stealing the fresh Turkish Delight out of the pantry and eating all but the last piece.

3) Eating a whole packet but 4 of Arnott’s Assorted Cream Biscuits.

4) Stealing lasagne.

5) Digging tunnels to China in the backyard.

6) Chasing Bilbo’s tennis ball and not giving it back.

Bilbo still isn’t sorry for barking at the postman even though he’s heard rumours that he really is Santa after all and those packages he drops off are actually presents not something menancingly dangerous. He isn’t sorry for barking at anybody who kidnaps the kids and takes them off in their car…even if they bring them back in the afternoon.

Lady's t-shirt reads: "Santa, define naughty!

Lady’s t-shirt reads: “Santa, define naughty!

 

Ain’t No Way to Treat a Lady!

Indigant! She was absolutely indignant. There were no smiles for the camera and certainly no smoochy kisses as we gave Lady her first bath and I started recording the moment for posterity. Just the deeply wounded downwards glare which concealed an inner growl: “That ain’t no way to treat a Lady!”

Lady had to have an instant, immediate bath. It was a definite case of do not pass go. Do not collect $200. I couldn’t risk her running into the house and sharing her joy. We’d never get rid of the stench! There was no time to take her off to the Palm Beach dog salon for the full shampoo, blowdry and pedicure! If Lady snuck into the house, my father would metamorphose into John Cleese and I could already hear him now: “Sybille!”

As my Dad looks like Basil Faulty, I’m careful not to press all his buttons at once! Dad has a very sensitive sense of smell and with the dogs not being allowed in the house, I really didn’t want to stretch the friendship. I have learned my lesson. You can’t get anything passed Dad’s very acute sense of smell.

Many, many moons ago, there had been the Schnapps Incident. As a fairly mature twenty something, I’d invited a group of single friends around for a Valentine’s Day dinner party at home while Mum and Dad were out. Two of my friends were drowning their sorrows with shots of Schnapps which all ended very badly when the bloke exceeded an elegant sufficiency and in his disoriented and inebriated state had managed to relieve his agony beside my parents’ bed, all over the fine cane lattice furniture. Although my friend, not the one who’d been sick, cleaned the muck off with an old toothbruth and we’d doused the place with industrial strength chemical cleaners, my Dad still walked in the front door and it was like the tale of Goldilocks and the Three Bears: somebody’s been sick beside my bed.

No! I couldn’t take any chances with Lady. After all, we’re lucky that Mum and Dad let us bring the dogs with us at all!

Lady having a bath. Clearly, she's far far from impressed!

Lady having a bath. Clearly, she’s far far from impressed!

This, of course, meant that Lady’s dignity was mortally wounded as we tied her to the flag pole. With the Australian flag flapping overhead, she received the hose treatment. While this might sound a bit cruel, the same dog had just been running through seawater and I doubt there much difference in temperature. Besides, it was a bright sunny day and Lady was until recently, a farm dog. Surely, she wasn’t used to the salon treatment in between rabbit hunts?!! As much as Lady was a cute little dog who would fit in very nicely with the local designer dogs the Avalon Café set, she was made of much tougher stuff! She more than knew how to look after herself!

DSC_5358

That said, I knew she wouldn’t like the smell of Dad’s shower gel.

Being on holidays, we didn’t have any pooch shampoo so I sent our daughter upstairs to get my Dad’s shower gel. It was a strange choice because we had our own Pantene shampoo but this was a crisis and my poor humble brain was very much in survival mode and I wasn’t thinking clearly.

I don't think washing dead fish smells out of stinky dogs was quite what the manufacturers of Dove had in mind!

I don’t think washing dead fish smells out of stinky dogs was quite what the manufacturers of Dove had in mind!

If you have already read about Lady’s handling of the dead rabbit, you won’t be surprised about the dead fish incident. In fact, you’ll probably blame me: “Really, Ro! What did you expect?” The dog is a veteran hunter. You can take the dog out of the farm but you can’t take the farm out of the dog. She is who she is, after all!

I guess you could just call me naïve. The last time I ventured onto a sheep property, I asked my friend if the sheep bite. That story circulated like wildfire. I was living in Geraldton in Western Australia at the time and they were in fits of hysterics about the girl from Sydney. It had been said that you could take the girl out of the North Shore but you can’t take the North Shore out of the girl. I’d actually thought I’d done a pretty thorough cleansing at the time and had well and truly moved on but apparently not.

Anyway, all this drama which resulted in Lady having a bath was all over a fish…a very simple fish.

You see, when my daughter and I were out walking the dogs today, Lady found a dead fish floating in the water. After the rabbit encounter which I mentioned in my last post, I had simply assumed Lady wanted to eat the fish. I thought it was species known as Leather Jacket which was safe to eat and so I helped her get it out of the water. I couldn’t see any harm in her eating the fish.

So I guess you could say that by providing assistance, that ipso facto makes me an accessory but I plead ignorance. I strongly deny any sinister involvement. As I said, I thought Lady was going to eat the fish. I never thought for a moment that Lady would use the dead fish as a kind of roll-on deodorant or eau de cologne.

As it turned out, that fish was also deader than I’d thought. It had already begun its deadly metamorphosis…especially as it had been drifting along baking in the hot, midday sun. So by the time Lady found it, that dead fish was so dead that it was starting to come back to life again.

You could just imagine the smell!

A very cheeky, stink dog posing as a dead fish...Lady before her bath.

A very cheeky, stinky dog posing as a dead fish…Lady before her bath.

Even after what must have been half a bottle of shower gel, Lady still reeks of dead fish. Somehow, I hope it filters out somehow before the long drive home. Two adults, two kids, two dogs in an overloaded car, there’s no room for the stench of dead fish!

Otherwise, I might just have to pinch a bit of my mother’s Chanel!

Surely, that’s how you really treat a Lady!