A visit to the vet

I am in tip-top, fabulous health and I am exceedingly beautiful.  My doctor said so.

On Wednesday Mum took me to see Doctor Ian for my check-up. We left Heidi at home to take care of things and we drove down to Doctor Ian's place.  It's not very far away, out in the trees and is surrounded by amazing smells.  Miss Jeanette's kennel place is right next door. WE had a quick walk around the garden and then we went inside.

I had to sit on the black scale to see how heavy I was...24 kilograms...and then I had to sit politely and wait until it was my turn.  This seemed very strange to me because we were the only ones there.  Who were we waiting for?

Then Doctor Ian came out and said to me how beautiful I was looking and did I want to come in to his room now.  I didn't want to go in but Mum made me go in anyway.  I know what is going to happen when I get in there and I have to say that I am not particularly fond of it.  Doctor Ian looked at my ears and my eyes and my teeth and listened to my chest and pushed my tummy and then.....yes, you guessed it,....he decided to take my temperature.  How rude!  How undignified!
Then I had to have a little sting on the neck before I could have some treats.

Mum and Doctor Ian had a chat about how good a guard dog I am, and how I never let another dog walk past unbarked at, and how clever I am at seeking out possums and pussy cats, and how I am fascinated (I wouldn't have said fascinated...intrigued perhaps, but not fascinated) by Dad's socks, and how I am a teeny bit scared of thunder and other big noises, and some other stuff that I can't remember right now.
Doctor Ian said he "knew the personality well".  I don't know what that means.  Then he said I have  anxiety issues and OCD.  Then he gave Mum some lollies for me to have.....one every day.

When we came home and Heidi and I had eaten the pig's ears that Mum have bought for us, I told Heidi about what Doctor Ian had said.  Heidi explained it all to me.  She said anxiety is when you get worried when dinner isn't served on time or when you get frightened by the storms. Heidi says that is perfectly normal for all intelligent dogs; after all, you would be silly not to be worried then, wouldn't you?  Heidi says OCD means Outstandingly Clever Dog and that I should be proud of that.

I have decided that Heidi is right. I am an Outstandingly Clever Dog.  Why else would I get to have the special lollies every day?

Signing off for now.
Trudy OCD

Issues with Dad

Attention:  Management

Complaints about Dad

 By Trudy and Heidi

• Dad does not play the hunting of cane toads game properly.  He immediately muscles in on the game and takes over completely so that he is the one to get the toad, thus making Mum happy.  This is totally unfair. He has all the fun and he doesn't even have to have his mouth swished out with a bucket of water afterwards to make sure he hasn't swallowed any toad poison.  
• Dad has no concept of time.  On the days that Mum goes to work, Dad is supposed to serve our dinner. Mum knows what time dinner should be served and we certainly know what time dinner should be served.  The bowls should hit the floor approximately five minutes after Deal or No Deal comes on.  The problem is that Dad usually has the tv on the golf channel so he has no idea that it is dinner time.  We usually have to take drastic action to prod him into action e.g. Heidi will rush back and forth between the lounge and the kitchen 'talking' as she does so. If this doesn't work, then I have to jump onto his lap.  That usually stirs him into movement. 
• Dad doesn't share.  Dad likes to eat biscuits with his cup of tea/coffee etc., but he just doesn't respond to our pleas for a little taste.  
• Dad has an unaccountable attachment to his socks.  When Dad comes home he takes off his shoes and socks and leaves them on the floor in the bedroom.  I consider this to mean that he doesn't want the socks any more since they are somewhat odorous (I like it!) and so I take them ever so carefully out to my hidey-hole under the palm trees.  Somehow Mum always knows where I have put the socks and brings them back in and pops them in the dirty clothes hamper.  She usually says, 'Oh Troods, not again!'  Dad, on the other hand, sits me down for a stern man to dog conversation.  Pfft!  They're only socks........come on!
• Dad gets to sleep in the big bed with Mum and we don't.     Nuff sed.  Totally unfair!  How come we have to sleep in the garage? 

Please consider the above list and adjust the household arrangements accordingly.

Thank you.

Troods and HoHo

Avocados

This morning I found these things on the kitchen bench.
Mum said, 'Avocados are not for dogs. Get down from there.'

Well, of course, that just made me more curious about the avo things.  So I waited.

Mum put the avo things in a bag and tried to hide them further back on the bench near the coffee maker. Sneaky but not good enough to fool a big, blonde dog.
I waited.

Mum gave us our breakfast treats and then made herself some breakfast. She sat down at the table to read the newspaper.
I waited.

Mum put dishes in the dishwasher.
I waited.

Mum tied up the rubbish bag and took it out to the bin.
I waited.

Mum went to the laundry to start the washing machine. Heidi went with her to keep her company.
This was my chance.

I had to really s-t-r-e-t-c-h out to reach but I managed to get hold of the corner of the bag and gave it a little tug.  The avo things rolled down closer to me so I could ever so carefully take them out...one at a time....to the palm tree.

And that was my big mistake.  Because.....I forgot....that.....from the laundry room.......Mum has a very nice view of the palm trees.

So when I was tip toe-ing along with my treasure in my mouth, I was spotted.  Drat! Foiled again.
And I was being so careful too......didn't even puncture the avo thing's skin with my teeth.

The avo things are now inside the microwave which is, according to Mum, dog-proof.  (One day we'll see about that.)

Oh well, I bet I wouldn't like avocados anyway.