HELP, BIRDS ARE IN DANGER!

Do you know that squeegees are a real threat to environment?

Sorry for such a spooky way to start this week's story, but prevention is better than cure.

Whether you are a truly perfect homemaker or an awfully poor one, when it comes to cleaning the windows, I guess most of you often complain about all the streaks left once the job done.

Well, you know what? 

You should be happy, cause even if those pesky streakings blur your vision, crystal clear windows are a deadly threat to environment!

Let me give you an example, and then next time you clean your windows, you will think twice before exhausting your elbow grease…

A few days ago, after watching for the umpteenth time a tuto about how to clean the windows like a pro, I decided to invest in a good quality squeegee and to follow the metho step by step.

Quite a few strokes later,  the " haze " cleared up, I mean I could see through the windows as if there were none.

And that's the snag…

A poor bird didn't see one of our picture windows and banged its head against it! Knocked-out!!

Jeez, my first aid certificate was of no use, cause during the course I had learnt how to give mouth-to-mouth, but not mouth-to-beak!

As my squeegee victim was nodding its head slightly, I decided to take it under my wing (bad pun, but I couldn't resist).

I sprayed some water on its beak, put some itty-bitty crumbs before it, and then put it on one pillar of the terrace, cause I thought it would be a perfect tarmac.

Half-an-hour later my survivor flapped its wings and flew away, more shaken than hurt.

A little bird told me that now that you have read my story, next time you clean the windows, you won't bother if they aren't streak-free, cause I'm sure you feel concerned about birds preservation!

HOW MY DOG GOT SQUEAKY-CLEAN TEETH

Sorry for posting a short text this week, but once you have read it, I guess you will forgive me.

To be honest, I have not yet regained my composure, and I hope my story won't be too incoherent.

Last week when I told you about my dog's love for squeaky toys and how he sometimes uses them to put shame on me, I was far from imagining that his addiction would send him to the emergency vet, and yet…

Two days ago Canaille was playing with a new squeaky toy in the garden, and everything was going smoothly. I mean, usually Canaille enjoys getting the audience feeback when he is playing the squeak, but, for once he had decided he could do without his regular fan club, Dearhubby and me.

So, the concert of woof woof and squeak squeak was going on  and the " band " was playing louder and louder when suddenly everything went silent. Then I knew that one more time Canaille had torn to pieces his squeaky toy.

He came back home, panting and puffing, and that's when I noticed that each time he uttered a sigh of satisfaction, I could hear a muffled squeak, and not the tiniest bit of the " prey " to be seen!

Jeez! Had Canaille swallowed the squeaker?

The best way to check was to give him his food bowl to see if he would gulp it down as usual.

He rushed to it, but a split second later he turned up his nose at it with a heart-breaking sqeaky sound!

Things couln't be worse. Quite sure the squeaker was stuck in his throat or on its way to his stomach where it would cause havoc!

Time was short!!

Canaille's  squeaky pantings gave a gruesome tempo to our journey to the emergency vet where he was immediately x-rayed.

No squeaker, and yet the same awful sound each time Canaille opened his mouth.

His mouth!!! 
The vet looked inside and caught sight of the squeaker stuck between our dog's right rear molars.

Canaille was certainly feeling rather uncomfortable, cause he didn't try to jump off the examination table, and kept quiet while the vet was taking out " the squeaky culprit ".

Phew, more frightened than hurt, but now suspicious about any noisy toy!

HELP, MY DOG DRIVES ME NUTS!

My dog is a jolly good fellow and I love him to the moon and back, but sometimes his silly antics  put the shame on me and drive me nuts.

Let me walk you through it.

Last month two friends of ours came around for dinner and spoiled Canaille with a dog toy. Actually it was a little piggy grunting when squeezed.

Toys usually last maximum one day before Canaille totally destroys them. But that time it was love at first sight ! He didn't chew it to bits the first day he got it which by our dog's standards meant it probably got a long toy lifespan !

 He went crazy fort that toy. We even wondered if our little rascal didn't enjoy irritating us with the squeaky noise...Anyway,it entertained him for days, till, as scatterbrained as his Mum, he left it one evening in the garden.

The next morning, as I was opening the shutters, I caught sight of the fox (one of our permanent residents) fleeing away with the pig in its mouth ! Too bad !!!

To compensate for the loss, we went to the local groomer to get a similar toy. No squeaky pigs there, but a  cute little squirrel making a funny giggle when touched.

First Canaille turned up his nose at it, but after sulking a little in his basket, he let himself go and make friend with his new buddy. 

And there we went again !! No "oink, oink" anymore, but " hi,hi" instead ! Sometimes a bit nerve-racking, but we ended up ignoring it.

Soon the squirrel and our dog ( could be the title of a tale) became lifelong friends.Where there was one, there was the other. Even when going somewhere by car with us, Canaille always managed to smuggle his buddy onto the backseat !

Now, see what happened one day ...

We were on our way to the supermarket when we saw a schoolboy hitchhiking. As it was pouring down, we decided to pick him up.

The poor guy had missed the schoolbus and would certainly get a detention for being late. We offered to give him a lift to his grammar-school.He thanked us profusely, and was about to get in when I told him that it would be safer (hum,Canaille a watch-dog ?My foot !) and cleaner ( our dog is a lap dog) to sit in the front seat. Then, I got into the back and we set off again.

The schoolboy was not an experienced hitchhiker and thus, not used to small talks. To break the ice, I asked him which form he was in ( spoof question, isn't it ?).Hardly had he answered when I realized I was sitting on Canaille's squirrel.I moved a little to take it, and what was to happen happened : the damned giggle went off !!!

The poor shy boy turned round and stared at me !

I was so embarrassed that the only words I could splutter were :

" Don't worry, it's the dog !"

The boy looked all the more flabbergasted as Canaille doesn't look like a performing dog !

I immediately realized the misunderstanding, and to put things right I added :

" Sorry, it's not the dog who has giggled,of course ! It's the squirrel ( still under my bottom !) ! ".

That was the full monty !

At that precise moment I think our hitchhiker had only one thought : get out of the car at the next traffic light and take to his heels !

I didn't know whether to cry or to laugh, but you can't change how you are made ...

I got a fit of the giggles.

Fortunately my husband made up for it, and while I was trying to get serious again, explained the whole matter !

I wanted to apologize and say that sometimes squirrels drive nuts but I held back. That pun might not have been welcome!

WONDER AND SERENITY

We often think that we need grand things in life to make us happy, and yet there are so many small things that can bring great joy and make our day. 

Let me give you an example and share with you a pure moment of happiness, a kind of " enchanted interlude ".

Some time  ago I was having breakfast on my terrace, when suddenly a deer came out of the undergrowth, stopped, stared at me, and then, started grazing.

I was thrilled to bits, cause I had not seen her since last February, and, of course I had feared the worst. All throughout the hunting season the gunshots nearby or in the far distance had broken my heart and chipped away my hopes to see Mrs Deer again.

Yet, early July when the first heatwave had swept across the country, and dried the brook running through the garden, I had thought that if by chance Mrs Deer was still alive and paid a visit, offering a drink was the least I could do.

First I had put some bowls of water here and there, but the birds had invested the place to enjoy that unexpected " happy hour " (a kind of reward for their early cheerful chirpping).

Then, Canaille and Ulysse, my dogs, had splashed the water all around, before coming back to thank me for that refreshing break, with quite a few wet paw prints on the floor.

After browing through the Net, I had found out that deers are really mad about salt lick blocks. I had rushed to the nearest farm feed store to get some, and when the cashier had told me that my cows were lucky, cause with that scorching sun he had sold nearly all his stock, I had just smiled politely. I  could not figure out his face if I had told him it was just in case a deer would drop in!

Unfortunately, the salt lick blocks had not attracted Mrs Deer, but just puzzled Ulysse, and terrified Canaille ( but even flies scare him!).

So, you can imagine how excited I was when my dear deer friend turned up.

The blades of grass were not to her taste, and she quickly trotted to the rose bushes and helped herself to two rosebuds which had survived the dogdays.

A few seconds later, she was enjoying the only fig growing on my young fig tree and after chewing two leaves of salad, she looked satisfied with her shopping and left for good.

The budding gardener I am was a bit upset, cause I am really striving to grow flowers, fruit and vegetables, but after all Mrs Deer I had missed so much was still alive, she knew the benefits of eating 5 portions of fruit and vegetables a day, she had not forgotten I am a harmless greengrocer, and she had made my day!

So what else could I ask for?

THE ADVENTURES OF A DOGSITTER

I'm a dogaholic, and to be honest, I'm not on the way to recovery.

The first symptoms appeared years ago when I started dogsitting.

I remember being always on the verge of tears when saying good-bye to the doggy I had homed and already bonded with.

When it was a friend's dog, I always respected the deadline to give it back, cause a friend in need is a friend indeed.

But when it was my daughter's, I often tended to  procrastinate, and that's how I gained a " dognapper " reputation.

 Believe me, post-dogsitting blues was a rough patch to go through, and I experienced it even after taking care of Guiness, a one-year-old dog, although he nearly turned me into a kind of Captain Nemo.

I'm not kidding! When he left, I felt as if I had been roaming the depths of the sea in a makeshift submarine.

Really! A makeshift submarine!

Actually, Guiness was a Newfoundland dog. I knew about his passion for water, but in those days we were living near a river, so I thought it would be easy to satisfy his swimming skills.

Unfortunately, things didn't turn out that simple…

First, when Guiness arrived in our place, he immediately had a crush on Indy, our ten-year-old Springer, and to show her how much he loved her, he forgot his weight, jumped on her and nearly crushed her!

To escape her over-enthusiastic lover, Indy took up her quarters on the first floor, and as Guiness had been taught to never climb up any stairs, I thought everything would go smoothly during his two weeks' stay.

But, when bowl time came, I quickly felt out of my depth, and a quarter later I was really in deep water, literally and figuratively!

For Guiness, drinking was a kind of warm-up activity before going to the river.

He dunked half of his head into his water bucket, played the deep-sea explorer for a few minutes, emerged again, and to show his satisfaction, gave me a splash!

I was soaked to the skin!

Teaching him the dos an don'ts about drinking turned vain, and I quickly became a past master at mopping, and at choosing kind of waterproof clothes, too, cause if Newfoundland dogs are water lovers, they are also champion droolers... 

When Guiness went back to his owner's, I was sad, but home and dry!

Yet, that kind of " 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea " episode didn't cure me, cause, I love dogs so much that, you see, I even blog about them!

Have a pawesome day!

A DOG IDIOM STORY

Hi,

My name is Canaille. I am an English Springer Spaniel and I live in France, at the very tip of Brittany.

If you have been hanging about here long, you probably know me, cause Perky, this blog's owner, often tells you about my silly antics.

This week Perky is pretty busy outside and she has decided to let me be her spokesman.

Actually, she didn't ask me to be her spokesman, but her spokesdog, cause we both live in the dogaholic world where everydoggy is pawesome and always ready to lend a paw to a buddy in need.

But don't get me wrong. It doen't mean that using a few doggy words now and then is enough to claim you speak dog fluently.

For example, if you really want to sound like a genuine dog -lover, there are two phrases to avoid, cause they are real bones of contention between dogs and their owners.

Want to know which ones?

OK, then here is the first one :

" IT IS A DOG'S LIFE

When people say that, they mean life is hard. What a bunch of hypocrites!

Quite sure that if given the  opportunity, most dog owners would trade their lives for the life their dogs are living. Just good food, cuddles and naps. 

Well, for my part, sometimes I am on a tight schedule, and then my biggest problem is whether I should play with my red ball or the yellow one, play music with my squealy toys or beg for a treat.

But, I guess when life is not wine and roses, you would be ready to swap your life for mine, so next time you used  " it's a dog's life ", think about me!

The second phrase is by far the one I hate most!

DOGDAYS

I had never heard it till the early days of July. That's when things went wrong.

Perky was reading the weather forecast aloud and when she said that dogdays in Brittany were on, she sounded so happy that first I thought it was something like " Every dog has its day ", you know that phrase which lets us hope that sooner or later we'll be successful.

Poor me! How foolish I was! 

Actually, the  damned " dogdays  "phrase sounded the end of my carefree ooutdoor life.

Whenever I wanted to play " fetch ", have a wild race in the garden, or  go with Daddy and Perky for a car ride, Perky refused and kept repeating " No, you can't, because of dogdays! ".

I didn't know who those dogs were, but they were really getting on my nerves.

Then, one day, the kitchen door was ajar, and, as Perky was having a nap under the parasol, I managed to sneak out

Jeez! It was scorching hot, and the gravels of the alley nearly burnt my paws.

No way to frolic in the grass and sniff the news, too hot!!

When I came back home panting, Perky said " Now, you know what dogdays are! "

And to crown it all, she gave me a shower, one more time because of DOGDAYS!

So now let sleeping dog lie!

I wish you a pawesome day!

DO DOGS REALIZE HOW LONG YOU HAVE BEEN AWAY?

Do dogs realize how long you have been away?

It is often said that most of them don't. I mean they always perform the same franctically welcoming dance, whether you've been out just to check the mail or for a whole day's work.

Yet,some dogs are smarter and can make the difference between an excusable delay and a kind of carelessness.

Do they have an inner time clock, an hourglass, or do they just track the movement of the sun?

I really don't know, but, anyway, for those guys, time is not a thing to be trifled with, and, believe me, I know what I'm talking about.

Jolux, the very first dog I got, was rather fussy about punctuality.

When coming back from work, if I dared punch the clock ten minutes later than usual, a plea for mercy was vain.

I mean, I was quite sure to find him busy digging socks out of the washbin, tearing the newspaper, or even worse, surfing on the dining-room table to get a bite at the bamboo lampshade!

His naughty reprisals quickly showed me he always realized how long I had been away.

That smart dog was rather fussy about hours, but about days, as well!

Did he  hide a calendar in his basket and cross the squares as days went by?

I can't believe it, but then how could he make the difference between working days and days off?

I don't know, but at weekends the least attempt to go out without him immediately triggered his " I'm a poor lonesome dog " song!

For the sake of our neighbours, we used to take our " crooner " with us wherever we went.

Yet, once, we were to visit friends in Holland, and travelling with our puppy would have been a bit complicated, so we left him at my parents' for a " cuddles and treats " weekend.

When we came back and rang at my parents' door, we were expecting a wagging tail and cheerful woofs.

Well, we had all that, but just for a few seconds…

Suddenly he looked at us resentfully, and then turned his back on us and stared at the wall for the next couple of hours!!

That was the rate : one hour sulking for one day absent.

So, do dogs know how long you leave them? Well it's up to you to decide, but just let me tell you that whenever I leave my dogs at home, that's what I can read in their eyes :