a BIG surprise!

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? 

Shoes? Really?

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?

God Bless America!

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! 

Privileges revoked

Hmmm. So, after my world class stealth demonstration last week, in which I managed to sneak onto the bed without waking mum, this week dad is back and bed privileges have been firmly revoked. S'rubbish. 

Am thinking of starting a union to lobby for Vizsla rights. After all, I'm a hard working family dog. It's only right that I should be allowed to rest in comfort after a strenuous day of fetching sticks, finishing off leftovers, licking feet, giving out cuddles, and following my family lovingly from room to room. 

What d'you think? Anyone want to join? 

Shhh, don't tell dad!

He's away this week - more 'business' to do back in London. Dunno why he has to go so far - I just go in the woods...

But anyway, after weeks of trying and failing, last night I managed to sneak onto mum's bed without waking her up! It was soooooo comfy and warm, and I snuggled up right in the crook of her knees. Bliss! 

Mum says it's not going to happen again, but we'll see. I'll keep you posted...