BetteJo and BobbiJo

We have a houseful here and excitement is mounting over the guinea pig pictures . D is being urged to look , and show enthusiasm over them , and it soon becomes apparent that he would rather get on with watering the plants and checking the football scores . He loves our guinea pigs without a doubt but is somewhat less enthusiastic ( though trying hard ) than the rest of us ( females ) as we pass the laptop round and look at Bobbi Jo 's pictures from all angles , oohing and ahing ..... soon we realise that part of his confusion is to do with the names , he imagines that BetteJo and BobbiJo live together in America and he is still trying to figure out where Joan fits in . Ah well ... makes sense I guess .....

BobbiJo

I'm sure regular readers have heard all about BobbiJo who is a House Guinea Pig but who likes to spend her leisuretime snuggling with Joan or Rob .

BobbiJo

Me ? Stressed ? Nah ....

After a too strong cup of coffee yesterday I developed a migraine and woke with the words volterol volterol volterol swimming in a soup of my thoughts .
All traces of headache were gone however and the jelly legs were not a problem under the circumstances .
Suffice to say there was a lot going on and if I mention police , shoplifting and "trouble last night" you will understand I want to say no more in order to protect the anonymity of the teens .

I felt relatively calm with all this , having had occasion to spend many a happy hour myself in the police station in my twenties , working as I did in the juvenile justice Industry as indeed it was then . And having gone through all the permutations in my head and having been assured by N that she was not involved , I made a few phone calls to the other parents then decided to go about my day , first taking half an hour in Cafe Royal to calm my nerves ... just an excuse and there would have been another if not this ( Alice chasing a Yorkie , Kitty going for my throat , there would have ben something ) .

I thought I was doing fine , even the fact that ricotta and berry muffins have been temporarily removed from the menus left me unphased and I changed my order to green tea and a cinammon twist , but I have to confess, my chickens came home to roost in Marks and Spencer Food Hall .
I had selected a Colin the Caterpillar birthday cake for Nat , despite the teen thing ( fourteen next week ) she still likes her Colin cake .... two pots of salad , and decided to brave the self serve check out where you run your own card through the card reader , scan your own purchases and hey presto Bob's your Auntie you are through there faster than it takes to shoplift the basketload ( slap my wrist did I say that ... )

I arrive at the checkout area and realise I have no basket to unload , having just collected my purchases in my arms . Mistake number one .
A robotic voice makes some comment about this which I can't make out , so I ignore . Bleep!

I fluff out one of the plastic carrier bags sitting there waiting for me to load up with my stuff .

I can almost hear the machine whirring ... what is she doing ? Bleep !

I scan the first pot of salad and place it in the bag . Bleep !

" Unexpected Item in the Bagging Area " says the Robotic Voice loudly

"Please use our bag , or press the button to indicate you are using your own bag " , it adds , sounding put out .

I glance around .
What ?
I am using their bag .
There is no unexpected item in the bagging area , just a pot of their stupid salad , couscous to be precise .

I press a button , lift the salad out and re scan . Huge mistake .

This sends things haywire and the Robot starts bleeping angrily and giving out conflicing messages .
The last thing I hear is Please use our bag !

I lose it .
" I am using your fucking bag . " I say waspishly " so Fuck Off "

A ripple of tension goes through the queue .

An assistant appears as if from nowhere .
Is everything ok ?
No I tell her , and you may have heard me uttering profanities at your machine .
She says not a word ( not understanding profanity perhaps ?), presses some buttons , but becomes quite aereated herself when I move too swiftly and threaten to start the whole process off again on the wrong foot .
My final faux pas is to place a birthday card purchaed from another store into the bag and she shrieks No ! ( but at least a human shriek and not a robotic one ) . She tries to explain this will be weighed and will then alert the machine that it has not been scanned . And then ....
I scoop up the bag and make off .
Perhaps I am more bothered than I will admit by recent events ......

There were additional factors . N's grandmother was also admitted to hospital in Belfast with a clot in her lung and awaits a scan .

Overall , this was a wonderful day , with many sunny moments .
I have been tagged by BetteJo and must write seven wierd things about myself . I catch D looking at me and know he feels most things about me are wierd .
I will attend to this tomorrow , though perhaps " talking to machines as a matter of course " would count as number one . ? There is no shortage of material for this one though .....

" Our fur is so lovely and soft .. and we don't bite , well we don't bite people anyway , just each other "

Cling On Wars ......

You may be able to work out the problem just by looking at the picture . But maybe not . Its simple , yet complicated all at once . Kitty , as the nurse told us , is a Big Girl . In fact , so big now that she lies on her back for comfort rather than on her belly . ( In primary school I had a " composition corrected when I used the word Belly , and the teacher wrote Tummy in red pen above , so now I use Belly as an act of defiance though I know its rather an outdated term. My grandparents had a farm . What can I say ? )

The vet tells us to make her diet , but this is tricky when we have three picky Birmans who we have to coax to eat . How do you deprive one and not the others ? I don't have the answer , short of making them live separately and my life is far too complicated already without cats holed up in different areas . We already have adult / teenagers with the demarcations that brings , not to mention cats/ greyhound etc etc .

In addition to the fat she is adding ( adding value I think its called in Business now ) there is also a large area of matted fur on her back , which started as a little area , which has matted because she can't reach that bit to lick and clean herself . And yes you're right , in theory we could groom her , take a brush or a grooming glove to that bit and un matt the fur , de tangle the hair and hey presto . But , youre not taking into account Kitty's personality which is the main issue here , or one of the main issues .

Kitty is a force to be reckoned with .

Suffice to say we had Kitty booked to be spayed at the vets several times over the years and cancelled simply because we were unable to transfer her into the cat basket by any means known to woman and daughter . We presented at the vets badly cut and scratched to explain our time wasting ... and they understood completely . In fact the vet emerged from his consulting rooms at the behest of the senior nurse and said he completely and absolutely agreed with our decision to leave her at home which was "safest for all ". He inspected our wounds and suggested we absolve ourselves from further responsibilities that day .

Occasionally I read reports of the RSPCA prosecuting cruel people who have neglected their pets and left them with tumours and illnesses and all manner of things and then sometimes , of people who are deemed cruel having left their pets with terribly matted hair and my eye catches Kitty's and we exchange a look and I try to at least run my hand over the area and she spits at me and I quail ...... and I blanche and I think the RSPCA would look at my other cats and the guinea pigs and the dog and they would see how they are all loved and they would see how Kitty would rip their throats out of they tried to assist her in any way and they would see how she stares adoringly at me each night as she peers over the top of my book as she weighs my chest down as we read together .... just so long as I leave her fur alone ......

Last night , I decided enough was enough , and declared war on the "cling on" . The huge lump of fur needed a name if I was to beat it and having called it a winnet for a while in my head I then googled the word ( dont ask why ) and realised I was barking up quite the wrong tree here as winnet refers only to the cling ons left behind after poor wiping practices . Having been brought up with a younger brother who was fascinated by such things and also being quite weak stomached himself firmly believed that such matters should be dealt with by the female members of the family if there were pets with such issues ( there frequently were as we had silly cocker spaniels with rather loose bowels ) .

I digress . I threw caution to the wind , took a very sharp pair of scissors , waited till Kitty had her nose in the trough so to speak , and cut into the edge of the cling on . Result . Kitty far too busy troughing to be bothered with what was going on behind her . I snipped away feeling very smug and managed to take away a sizeable piece of the lump . Snippety snip . A bit more . Kitty turned and lashed out . I retreated , patting her head to show we were still friends .

I informed D of my progress so far and he shot off upstairs , not to be out done , returning triumphantly and unmarked a few minutes later , having filled the food bowl in order to take another ball of fluff off her .

Where will it all end .?

If the blog comes to a sudden end , hey , it was nice knowing you all !

Greyhounds hate rain

Alice dug her heels in this morning and steadfastly refused to go out in the tipping rain . Can't say I blame her . She slept in , and it was me waking her at seven or therabouts .Usually once shes had a stretch , in slow motion and edged her way out of the blankets and off the sofa ( being tall she doesn't jump off , more steps off ) she s ok to head for the food cupboard to check on the Treats supply and then out into the yard for her ablutions .

But today the storm was raging and it was not to be . Even the guinea pigs kept their counsel as the back door nearly blew off its hinges and I apologised as I even suggested she pop out for a minute . She took one look , directing me mentally to the " greyhounds don't do rain " website , and in particular the section on "Building your rescue greyhound a rainproof walkway if he or she refuses to go potty in inclement weather " ( hang on , we barely have enough space out there to park the barbecue never mind build a walkway ) and turned tail and headed back to the sofa .

Several tries later , and much coaxing and distribution of small heart shaped snacks , I finally put my waterproof on over my bathrobe and step into D's size God knows what size trainers and step out with her into the yard .I put Alice's coat on too , in the interests of fairplay . We pace up and down in the rain for seven minutes , until finally D appears at the door and says .... I would give that a miss ..... What ? ( Grumpy ? Moi ? ) I say So we let her in and she heads straight for the carpet and ....

No he says calmly , we give her breakfast then she will go straight out ......

My hair is dripping , my feet are wet , my spirit and Alice's are both in tatters .

We go inside and she gives me a " no hard feelings " look .

She eats her beef mince and biscuits in half a minute , D opens the door , no coats , she trots out obediently , heads for the bottom of the yard , turns twice as usual and produces a gallon of wee .

Result !

She races back in true greyhound style and stands happily outside the treat cupboard for her reward then leans against me for a cuddle .

What a dog .......