Bath Time....

I have decided the one day I'm really not so enthusiastic about, would have to be Bath Day.

I am seriously not amused by the notion...at all. I cannot stress this point enough.

Why?

Quite simple really. I look like a drowned chihuahua crossed with a poodle having a bad hair day. I'm all boggle eyes and skin. It's just so very unattractive. Nothing remotely butch about it at all. It reminds me of a picture of an anorexic piggy bank I once saw. It's so hard to try and imagine you're a rottie when your Mum is cleaning your privates for you, I mean, I can clean it on my own thank you very much and have been cleaning it on my own for about a year now. And let's not even mention how humiliating it is listening to my mum making those silly cooing noises she thinks will help encourage, soothe and calm me when all I want to do is shake all that bloody water right on top of her. First chance I get I race outside and roll around in the grass to reduce the sickeningly sweet, and markedly girly clean smell to a more blokey level.

But in the interests of smelling good for my humans and getting rid of the scourge of the earth - fleas, I tolerate the unmanly practice so I am still allowed inside to snuggle with my favourite people in the whole wide world (okay - my whole wide neighbourhood.) And yes even after the indignity I just suffered, they are still my favourite people. I'm like one of those hyenas from The Lion King - all giggly, happy, eager to please and show them how much I adore them. It's quite sad really.

Garden hoses, hmmm..... another item I can live without and could quite happily chew the marrow out of. As soon as I see Dad head outside to water the grass, I magically turn into a greyhound and race off inside to hide under the nearest bed. My fastest times are quite impressive....no really they are!

Don't know why I am not really fond of water to tell the truth, all I know is that I just don't like water and it just makes me uneasy to be around...unless I am drinking it out of my bowl. Then it is perfectly acceptable......in small amounts.....on my terms.....without having to stand in it and have it dripping in my boggly eyes and making me look like an anorexic piggy bank.



Till next time...

Murf

From Rescue Shelter to a New Family

In January 2008, when I was about three months old, I was rescued from a dog pound and taken to a doggie rescue property by a gentle and kind lady called Ronda. She took me to a vet who checked me over and made sure I was fit and healthy.

I spent every day at the property playing with my foster brothers and sisters, learning how to behave, improving my manners and learning how to be a playful puppy again as I waited patiently for my "forever family" to come - like Ronda kept telling us they would.

I watched my foster brothers and sisters find their forever homes and saw how their tails wagged so fast when they jumped into their new family's car to start a new life. I waited patiently and minded my manners every day for about the next nine months.

One day, Ronda took my foster sister Ava into the viewing yard because a family had come to see her. I was happy for her but disappointed it wasn't me. After a while Ronda came back in to see the rest of us and called over some of my foster siblings....and ME!! We were ushered into the viewing yard with Ava.

My foster siblings were so excited and ran up to the family, wagging their tails, jumping up and down and yapping "Pick me! Pick me!!" over and over again. I was so nervous! All I could do was trot over the the family, sniff their offered hands, lick their fingers and wag my tail gently. My foster brothers and sisters kept pushing me out of the way, so I just sat back and watched, feeling sure one of them out be chosen. After all, the family had a little boy and girl who seemed to love my bouncing foster siblings chasing tennis balls.

The dad came over and patted me while the mum scratched my tummy. Soon the little boy and girl were doing the same. It felt so good and they all seemed so nice. I never wanted them to stop. Wherever they moved to, I followed and sat by their feet. My foster siblings weren't interested in the family anymore - they were too busy chasing each other or tennis balls, digging holes or barking at Ronda's neighbour.

Then all of a sudden the family turned to leave....and Ronda was letting them go!! The family weren't taking me with them! Did I do something wrong? Maybe I should have chased a ball or dug a hole or yapped like the others? Perhaps I should have wagged my tail more......

I was so sad and became confused when Ronda started calling me Murphy - as she had called me Symonds since she rescued me. Then I understood - it all made sense! The family DID want me! My very own family! Ronda told me to be patient, my family would be back for me in a few days.

Ronda was right. A few days later she put me in the viewing yard....yes it was the special day I had been longing for. A car pulled up and my new two legged mummy, brother and sister got out. I was so happy to see them again. They patted me, cuddled me and made such a wonderful fuss over me and in return I licked their hands and faces and wagged my tail as fast as I could.

I gave one last cuddle to Ronda and said goodbye to my foster brothers and sisters then jumped into the car. I was finally going to my forever home with my forever family - just like Ronda always said I would.

Murf

ps. I am happy to say that Ava has found her Forever Home too!