So blimey. Can you believe it’s a whole year since we agreed to ‘foster’ Bert while Jen found him a home? I can’t quite remember life before Bert, but I’m sure it was altogether less funny and considerably tidier, but with much more room on the sofa. Ahhh, tell you what, though, I have fond memories of that time: picking up this enormous furry, muddy lump from an outdoor pen at the kennels: ‘flippin’ heck’, me Ma said at the time, ‘are you sure that’s a greyhound? It looks more like a camel’. And then, having been warned by Jen that he was a bit nervous, swiftly deciding that he wasn’t really that nervous when we’d been licked and kissed until all of us were dripping with smelly slobber. Into the bath he went, then, taking the combined efforts of me, me Ma and #1 to heave him in there, where he stood looking very bored as we scrubbed and showered enough fluffy sludge off him to construct a whole new dog. I seem to remember feeling a bit like a giant teddy bear after he proceeded to have a jolly good shake, covering us all in wet fluff, which stuck like glue. I also remember blow-drying him after which time he was so gorgeously soft and fluffy and smelt so good that we all had to have a quick hug, slobber or no.
Before Bert, one could always guarantee one’s shoes were where they’d been left, and not tidied up into a little nest somewhere nice and quiet, and of course solo visits to the loo, in fact, solo visits anywhere in the house are a thing of the past. Still, we’re all used to walking with a waggy, furry growth attached to our legs now and can even negotiate the stairs without too many problems. Visitors still quake at the sight of a large furry torpedo heading in their direction, but we’ve become adept at heading him off before they’re on the receiving end of two enormous paws straight to the chest and a thorough wash to the kisser.
Okay, so he’s a bit gangly, very moth-eaten, slightly bald, has horrendous breath that smells of dead people, sleeps in weird positions with his wedding vegetables (what’s left of them) on show and stands in front of the Wii at the worst possible times (’Muuuum, Bert ruined our game AGAIN!!!!’), but he’s our moth-eaten, bald, useless, stinky, annoying Bert and strangely, we’re rather fond of him.
In his favour, he’s also disgustingly cute (he currently has his head on my lap, looking lovingly into my eyes whilst simultaneously nudging my elbow - it’s tea time), incredibly cuddly (even now he’s lost his outside-dog kennel fluff) and so darn stubborn (sitting down and refusing to budge when it begins to rain half way along the boat road, and walking in concentric circles when he has to have his coat on), that frankly you can’t help but love him as much as he loves you.
Happy anniversary Bert. Oh, and thanks must obviously go to Jen, for realising that English Towers was definitely the place where he’d be able to spend many more years spreading himself out on the sofa, getting everyone tangled up in the lead because he’s decided to walk backwards, hurling himself down the stairs when we come in, turning round three times before falling off the bed whilst trying to get comfy, watching TV with his head on my shoulder and having to breathe in his evil fumes, and pulling my arm out of its socket while he tries to chase rabbits. You can tear up the foster papers girl. He’s staying.
Comment by Aidy — May 26, 2008 @ 7:32 am
Comment by Thriftcriminal — May 26, 2008 @ 7:33 am
Happy Failed Fostering Day to both of you!
Comment by Jay — May 26, 2008 @ 7:50 am
Comment by Mum — May 26, 2008 @ 8:12 am
See? Berties not THAT stupid!
Mwah!!
Comment by jennynib — May 26, 2008 @ 8:45 am
On Good Friday last we took in “Mick” a terrier cross who kinda has a lurcher look about him. Like you say, I can’t quite remember what life was like before he arrived.
Comment by Jennifer — May 26, 2008 @ 10:29 am
Taffy has been with us 4 years this bank holiday weekend - how time flies!
Comment by Taffy's Mum — May 26, 2008 @ 10:37 am
Thrifty: Ew, cuddly plus evil breath equals very short cuddles. LOL x
Jay: Failed Fostering Day hee hee! Yep, it must be a greyhound thing. He probably thinks his name is ‘GET OUT THE SODDING WAY!!!!’ rather than Bert!
Ma: Oh yes. Remember all the crying on his first night? And all that fluff?! It’s a sign of affection when he nicks your bed. Honest. x
Jen: Ah thanks. And I promise to stop calling him your dog when he does something wrong =0)
Jennifer: Aw thanks. And lucky old Mick too by the sounds of it! What would we do without a dog to shout at eh? x
TM: Crikey, have you had Taffy four years? I can’t believe it! Funny how they get their feet under the table so firmly! xx
Comment by englishmuminireland — May 26, 2008 @ 1:56 pm
Otherwise, congrats, they always become a member of the family, never just a dog, but a true member, pain in the arse, loveable hound !
Comment by Moon — May 26, 2008 @ 2:18 pm
That’s a lovely story, EM. It makes me feel all teary - in a good way
Comment by Wee Jen — May 26, 2008 @ 3:51 pm
Wee One: Ta. Oh yes, the big aul’ Cork fella has become a Cyaaaaaaaavan man at last!!
Comment by englishmuminireland — May 26, 2008 @ 7:16 pm
Comment by Isitjustme? — May 26, 2008 @ 8:07 pm
Comment by SUSAN B — May 26, 2008 @ 8:48 pm
Comment by Don't Bug Me! — May 26, 2008 @ 10:22 pm
Comment by june in florida — May 26, 2008 @ 10:43 pm
Must remember that one!
Comment by Jennynib — May 26, 2008 @ 11:32 pm
Susan: Heh. We should start a ‘failed fosterers’ club!!!
Bugs: Yeah, he’s adorable. Stinky, bald but adorable nontheless x
June: Happy Bertday, hee hee! x
Jen: I think his real Bertday must be coming up too isn’t it? How old is he? x
Comment by englishmuminireland — May 27, 2008 @ 7:00 am
Comment by alison — May 27, 2008 @ 7:17 am
Comment by SleepyJane — May 27, 2008 @ 7:44 am
Sleepy: Thanks! I passed those on. ;0)
Comment by englishmuminireland — May 27, 2008 @ 8:32 am
Par-tay!!
Comment by jennynib — May 27, 2008 @ 11:07 am
PS you just reminded me I’ve missed our anniversary having Stewie (May 10th)… oops. At least we marked his birthday!
Comment by Ruth E — May 27, 2008 @ 12:37 pm
Comment by Moon — May 27, 2008 @ 7:04 pm
He’s a lucky boy, for sure.
Comment by Medbh — May 27, 2008 @ 10:47 pm
Ruth: Special needs, more like! Ooh, we need a Stewie pic! Thanks x
Moon: Ah, you beat me to that joke!! x
Medbh: Yes I love that one too. He only does that when you rub his head for some reason (hence the child’s arm in the photo!) x
Comment by englishmuminireland — May 28, 2008 @ 1:10 pm
I hope you will all be very happy for many years to come, if he doesn’t gas you all that is.
Comment by queen of clean — May 28, 2008 @ 4:14 pm