One of my stories.....

This was first published in Dogs Today magazine around April '04.

STICKY DOG


Ive always wanted a lurcher, I don’t know if it’s because I would like to look like my dog (vaguely scruffy but long legged and lean, rather than extremely scruffy short legged and round) or because of some romantic notions of running rabbits in misty fields, on cold autumn days.

Either way, its not turning out quite how I imagined.

Lurcher puppies are NOT like other dogs, really, I know every dog owner will lay claim to their own chosen breed being vastly superior and unique to any other, but its true.

Lurcher puppies are born to steal. Stealing things is what they live and breathe every waking minute, and there are lots of those, because lurcher pups only have brief catnaps, (upside down on the sofa of course). Pilfering things is a full time occupation, and not, as with some lesser hounds, an attention seeking device or a stomach satisfying exercise. Theft, for a lurcher is not about the reward, but about the challenge. In much the same way that mountaineers will claim they climb mountains because they are there, Lurchers steal things because things are stealable.

My lurcherlet, minibeast, fatfurrystinky thing was purchased from a dubious character in Bolton. A deal done in a matter of minutes in a muddy back garden, with a shed full of ferrets and a terrier threatening my ankles.
Not exactly how the books recommend (nor I in fact) that you purchase your new best friend, but as I have learned, buying a lurcher is not like buying a pedigree dog. Its first come first served, at 6 to 8 weeks old, you pays your money, and you grabs a pup.

Coming home with the pup, he decided that, not content with smelling like a ferrets underpants, he should share his own aroma with my friends car interior, and peed on the back seat.
After a display of emergency braking by my friend (and unreasonably proud car owner), I cleaned up the mess, and transferred him to my lap for the remainder of the journey.

Fortunately, he kept his breakfast inside himself until we reached the pet store, whereupon he unloaded a stomach full of Vitalin and meat, spectacularly over several shoppers and the floor.

Shortly after his arrival in my humble home, he teamed up, rather surprisingly, with the cat. Considering however, that my other two dogs wanted to either eat him, or post him to New Zealand, I think the cat was the only option left.

In fact, I’m now wondering whether this was such a wise move on my part, since Cat is also a cunning and devious thief. I think I may have made a grave error in allowing the two to associate.

Cat has an amazing ability to defy gravity, which small puppies obviously need to learn all about. After a few attempts from the pup to follow the cat vertically up the kitchen walls and onto the top of the microwave, he learned that gravity sneers at small fat furry puppies, and only favours the svelte feline.

So, denied the ability to fly, hover, or levitate, he put all his efforts into growing, and thinking.
Thinking hurts, and growing comes much more naturally to those with a genetic predisposition to lanky leggedness. He left the thinking to the cat, and grew furiously.

Within a matter of weeks, he could reach anything left on the kitchen work tops (neither of my other two dogs can do this, despite them both being twice his height at the time!). Concerned that he was practicing dark arts or some other strange magic, I sneaked up on him to see how he was managing this.
Sadly, I do not possess the worlds only levitating dog, but he has an amazing ability to stretch!

Along with the ability to reach things previously denied him, he has discovered the art of ‘making a bloody great big mess’ and ‘getting really sticky’.

Making-a-bloody-great-big-mess is very easy, all you need to do is position yourself under the (switched off and cold) chip pan, grab hold of the looped flex and swing off it.
The result being that the entire greasy contents dumps itself onto the floor, and you can have a great oily snack, ice skate on the kitchen floor and partake in a spot of, ‘getting-really-sticky’.
Getting-really-sticky’ is even better if you can then reach a bag of brown sugar, or a bag of flour off the counter (ask the cat to help if you can’t reach) and scatter that as far as possible, preferably rolling in it and the previously spilled oil, thoroughly coating yourself.
.
Mmmmmmm, lurchers do NOT like being bathed. He showed his displeasure at this washing idea by relieving himself in my hand as I rinsed his backside.
My big mistake there, was as I was switching pup for big dog (who accidentally caught the fall out from the getting-really-sticky game, and would like it to be known that he never had any intention of joining in as he is ‘not that sort of dog’) I inadvertently opened the bathroom door and released the freshly washed and (no, he is not worth it, but its all I had!) L’Oreal flavoured lurcher from the confines of the bathroom.
In my haste to clean up sticky dogs, I had also left the kitchen door open……and you guessed it, I chose to clean the dogs up, before I cleaned the kitchen.

I think a sense of humour is required before you should EVER consider buying a lurcher.
If your response to witnessing a soggy lurcher attempt to dry himself by wiggling around, upside down, on a floor coated in oil, sugar and flour, is not laughter (the hysterical, manic kind DOES count), but rather a horrified shriek, then I can only say, thank God you don’t live with me!

Hmmmmm now, do lurchers shrink in the wash?


Emma Judson, 2003

Very good Theemx

Hmmmmm, I could give you a similar story about Border Collie pups and soot (piddled in, of course)!

Snorri

Snorri!!!!!!

G'wan then, lets hear that one! For everything your lot have done, i reckon i can raise you one of Dills evil antics!

Em

:smt043 :smt043

Great story Theemx, pmsl!

How is he now?

Very much the same, although he is a lot taller these days (he is coming up three this year, that was written at 8 months ish) so he can reach far more t hings!

Em

fab - loved it
dani

Brilliant story.....

As a former lurcher owner - loved that. Thanks!

Ok, here is another one, the follow up to Sticky dog...again first published in Dogs Today magazine.


No Sleep!

Emma Judson

Have you ever been SO tired that you can fall asleep in a second, even if you are standing up? So utterly shattered that you cry at the slightest thing, shout at people for no reason, and talk utter and complete nonsense?

Its great fun actually, after 3 days of minimal sleep, being frequently interrupted, you begin to hallucinate.
I had a very vivid hallucination that I for some odd reason owned a lurcher pup. Totally cracked, off my head.

Oh, hang on, no no, that’s reality, I DO own a lurcher pup. Okay, so if the lurcher part is REAL, im guessing the part about being skinny and astonishingly beautiful and rich beyond my wildest dreams, aint. ******.

As I was saying, a full night of restful, blissful, glorious sleep is a thing of the past, a wistful memory, and an experience I yearn to recapture.

Fatfurryblackthing is not a fan of the sleep. Sleep is his nemesis, only traitors and infidels to the cause of grand larceny ever sleep. Lurchers defy sleep and laugh in the face of the sandman, kicking his dream giving grains back in his face.

His answer to the problem of sleeping, is to make noise which he is surprisingly good at.
As soon as the lights go out in the kitchen, and my head hits the pillow, he begins to make his loud noise.

If you were to take a large sack, and fill it with unfeasibly angry seagulls, and possibly a disgruntled badger or two, and then give them all a stereo playing deathmetalgrindcorewotsitsscarymusic, you will still not be even vaguely close to the sound produced by a not-wanting-to-sleep lurcherlet.

Eventually, sick of the noise, lack of sleep and general likelihood that I would pass out whilst crossing a busy road, I gave in and let him sleep in my bedroom.

The first hour of the first night went as predicted: wants to sleep on bed…. wants to sleep IN bed…want to sleep on floor…want to sleep on bed…….want to bite big dog…want to play…want to pee…want to play…want to sleep IN bed where Mum is sleeping…floor…bed…floor…oooooh woss this under bed..CATCATCATCAT..chase cat……bored now, BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK.

I made a slight error in throwing a shoe at him, after asking nicely, asking crossly, threatening to send him to the NCDL, screaming at him like a demented banshee and considering drop kicking him out of the window.
The shoe it appears was a gift from heaven, and he spent the rest of the night alternately trying to wreck shoes and howling like a wolf because I had put the shoes out of his reach.
I must have passed out at some point, because I came to with the pillows firmly wedged over my head, barely able to breath. The first thing I noticed when I awoke (after a split seconds joy at the fact that I had actually slept) was that he had been busy. Very busy pupper, he had removed completely the wooden knobs off the bottom of my bed frame!!!

The inevitable answer of course, was kenneling, outside!! I constructed a deluxe kennel, and run, invested in the best, most expensive high tech bedding, all the mod cons, everything. No longer do I stay awake listening to the pup munch my stuff till the wee small hours, why didn’t I think of it before?

The only problem is, its flipping cold in the mornings, when I go back to the house to let the dogs out.


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