Doing it doggy style

Tuesday 26 May 2015

Disclaimer: If you came to this blog by ‘Google’-ing any part of it’s title, I accept no responsibility for your disappointment.

It’s been five months since we brought home our little legend of a pup, Logan, and while multitasking last night (watching TV, chatting with friends and playing fetch) I caught myself trying to remember what life was like pre-puppy.

About six months ago I was a punctual, professional. I enjoyed fairly relaxed mornings, getting up at 7.30am, listening to some music while I got showered, dressed and packed up lunch. And finally, like an eager kid to school, I arrived at work early (nearly) every day.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not a morning person. I live for a weekend lie in. But I was doing pretty well at tackling the weekday mornings. But they will never be quite the same post-puppy. I’m not complaining – we wouldn’t be without him now – but how things have changed!

Last Monday is as good an example as any. I got up earlier than usual. Preparing myself for a three hour drive and a night away with work. I threw the essentials into my overnight bag, grabbed a hair brush and flicked my straighteners on and went off in search of some tights. Returning from the spare room (aka our dumping ground/ironing pile room) a few minutes later I reached for my hair brush only to find it gone.

Now, I’m willing to admit morning’s are not my golden hour but I’m not insane. The hair brush had been in my hand only minutes ago. So, 99% sure that I must have taken it into the spare room I went on the hunt. Twenty minutes later I found Logan chewing on it downstairs tucked in the corner of the dining room. He got me.

Back upstairs, hair done and half dressed I sat down to put on my tights. Also gone. Running out of time and patience I shouted Logan who appeared at my feet, looking up with his big, beautiful, brown button eyes. Sans tights. I found them (laddered and ready for the bin) on the kitchen floor. He got me again.

Last but not least, his tortoise fascination. Our five year old Hermann has become an obsession for Logan, though she is just as interested in him and quite literally chases him round the living room. So when Logan disappears and all goes quiet. He can often be found with his head hanging over the side of her tortoise table, while they rub noses (talk about a weird couple!).

This is all fine. Aside from the fact that Logan chooses the most awkward times (ie. when you’re about to walk out of the front door) to decide to join Jumbo (the tiny tortoise) in her enclosure. Hopping over the ‘wall’, spilling her water and sending sawdust flying everywhere. Another clean up job I could do without before I’ve even managed to leave the house.

His only (half) saving grace this particularly eventful Monday morning came just minutes later. When I left him in the hallway, while I cleaned up sawdust, with only a pair of very old and overworn ballet pumps that I’d been looking for an excuse to replace for company. Naturally, ten minutes alone with Logan and a (made up) excuse was no longer necessary. A sweeping brush and some cursing in his general direction about having to tidy up (again) when I was already running late was necessary.

But the nights cuddled up on the sofa, or the mornings where he jumps in bed between us and snuggles himself in under the covers (cue: “awwwww” from us both even though this has become the daily norm) far outweigh the times where he makes us curse under our breath.

He’s very much like Mark. There’s days where he drives me up the wall with his crazy schemes, but I can’t imagine life without him.