Gosh. Mum just found this blog again. It's been ages since I updated it!
What's been going on? Well, I've got another human sibling. This one's called Tess, and while her feet aren't quite as tasty as Romilly's, she's pretty darned good at sneaking fish sticks to me under the dining table. Romilly is almost four now, and that throwing arm is getting good! Balls, sticks, toys - she loves to throw.
I've got a bit older too. I'm eight now. Although pretty much every time we go out, people still ask if I'm a puppy. Sheesh. How much grey hair does a girl need before people realise they're talking to a grown-up?
Mum's got me on a diet so I don't get chubby in my old age. Apparently I'd been eating too much mac'n'cheese. I say there's no such thing as too much mac'n'cheese, but I have to admit I've been getting closer to those pesky squirrels since I stopped eating it.
I went to North Carolina earlier this year, to a place called 'Duck'. Pretty promising name, I thought, but there were only seabirds to chase, and long experience has taught me that they're too fast to catch. Still, I had a great week, haring around on the beach (one of the few beaches in these parts where dogs are allowed), and snoozing on the balcony of our rental house. Bliss.
I've been doing lots of jogging this summer. My favourite route is through the woods by the creek, because we always stop at the end for me to have a swim and cool off. Mum and Dad get really sweaty too, but for some reason they never join me in the water. It's their loss.
That's all really. Life goes on as usual. And I have to say, it's pretty good!
A South London Vizsla... in Washington DC
- MAGGIE - aged 4, honest
- Hello. I really am four, although no-one ever believes me because I didn't do as much growing up as I could have done. My real name is Velveteen Magyar du Causse-Diege (I was born in France) but I prefer Maggie for short. When I'm not playing in the park or looking out the window, I like to sit on my cushion and think great thoughts. I'll try and share some of them on here.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Hello! Sorry I haven't been blogging recently - mum and Romilly are always on skype with gran and grandad back in the UK, so I haven't been able to get on the computer. Tsk.
Anyway, today we went down to the National Mall. I was worried it would turn out to be a shopping centre, but no, it's a sort of big old park full of statues and monuments and stuff.
I was hoping we might run into that nice Mr Obama - am dying to know what breed the First Puppy will be - but no luck. I did find one or two interesting critters, though - and gave this one a run for his money:
But my best discovery of the day was the incomparably scrumptious Hot Dog. Dad didn't want me to try them, because last time I ate something that pink it led to the great Jumping On The Table And Running Amok incident. But I did my best begging pose...
... and mum soon caved. Hah! Delicious!
Friday, 5 December 2008
So, Romilly has been part of my pack for 11 weeks now, and she and I are learning a lot from one another. So far, I have taught her that:
1. A happy life is one in which time is divided between eating, playing and snoozing.
2. There is no such thing as getting too much attention.
3. Making lots of noise is a good way to attract said attention.
I have to say that she's outclassed me already when it comes to lesson 3. Boy, can she make a lot of noise! And with consistently excellent results - mum and dad are there in a flash! I must study her technique. But I'm also learning from her. So far, I have learnt that:
1. Milk is the best food. Romilly gets fed first, but she's very generous in directing any excess towards the floor for me.
2. Cuddles are great. I've never been a cuddly sort of dog, but watching her spend so much time on mum's lap, I've realised what I've been missing out on.
I'm sure we have plenty more to teach each other. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
Thursday, 25 September 2008
Mum and dad have been muttering for ages about me getting a new brother or sister. Fantastic, I thought, picturing me and V2 romping in the garden, curling up on the sofa, wrestling over sticks, and all that good stuff.
Turns out that wasn't quite what they meant.
Instead of a Vizsla sibling, I've got a human sibling! Her name's Romilly, and she arrived some time last week while I was away on my holidays. Can't turn my back for a minute. Anyway, this is her:
At first I was a little bit upset. But I've given the matter some thought, and decided she has her good points:
- she smells really interesting
- and she can do lots of 'special effect' smells
- her feet taste a lot like dad's - and his are just the tastiest!
- she's pretty small right now, but if I'm not mistaken has the promise of a great 'stick' arm
- mum gets 10 months off work to look after her. Which means 10 months with me, too!
Oh yeah, and she makes mum and dad really really happy. Which makes me happy too.
So I say welcome to my pack, little Romilly person. Please can we be friends?
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
Something bizarre has happened over the last week. Mum and dad have bought me... some shoes. What do I want them for? It's almost as bad a present as the time dad bought me bath soap. I mean, I know I'm a girl, and human girls are really into shoes, but honestly.
As shoes go, I suppose they're not too bad. Not like those high heeled things mum wears sometimes. They've got comfy elasticated cuffs, and suede soles, and reflective velcro fasteners. And I only have to wear one of them, not all four. But it's rubbish cos it stops me getting at the cut on my paw, which is quite sore and badly in need of a good licking.
Anyone else ever had to wear them? And more importantly, anyone got any good tips for getting them off?
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Today is a very proud day for me.
You see, I'm a proper pedigree hound. O yes. This blog, I believe, provides ample evidence of the ancient bloodlines, the proud pose, the archetypal combination of keen hunting instinct and lovingly velcro-esque family dog.
But I was born in France, and registered there, and when I asked if I could join the snooty old English Kennel Club they said 'non'. Quelle horreur!
Here in America, though, the land of opportunity, liberty and justice, I have been welcomed with open arms into the American Kennel Club. Hurray! I'm an American Citizen!