Monday, 3 December 2012

You can't teach an old dog new tricks

Many readers have been in touch to ask about the gorgeous poodle I adopted back in the Spring.  As you will recall, when I moved to my new country estate in rural northwest Buckinghamshire, I vowed to open my house to animals, whom I love with a passion.

Below is a picture of Mr P, back in June.  His full name is  
Mr. Puffywuffycutesweetgummywummygumdrop.  He's an adorable boy; he gives me licks and cuddles and loves it when I tickle his belly.



He can be a little destructive, however:  I recently found him fast asleep on a heavily-scratched, 18th century, walnut-wood dining table, lying amidst the skeletal remnants of a large, roast pheasant, which Cook had spent all afternoon preparing for my dinner, lacing it with cream and brandy, in her idiosyncratic style (using the whole bottle of brandy, when only two tablespoons of liquor were really required).  

Apart from a few clean bones, there was nothing left of the dish at all.  The small, innocent poodle with the doleful eyes had devoured the lot, gnawing a hole in my tablecloth hand-made by Cistercian monks, wolfing down a bowl of fruit, and knocking the Christmas tree on its side and eating all the chocolate oranges and sweets. 

I don't mind the damage to my antiques nor the consumption of roast dinners.  I also found he'd completely chewed the leg off my 1863 Henri Fourneaux piano; a set of green velvet curtains had been torn down; and he'd jumped mercifully unscathed through a plate-glass window to chase a fox across the walled garden area.

I spoke to my vet, Jacqueline Pimblott, a transvestite dog psychiatrist, who has a weakness for pink gin.  

"He needs a companion" she barked, before coming out with some rubbish about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks, and ingrained canine behaviours being irreversible.  Really?



Jacqueline Pimblott, transvestite dog psychiatrist. Lives in Bracknell.
Sometimes she gets so bladdered on pink gin, she takes the dog pill by mistake
instead of her Valium. Should you see Jacqueline, wandering around
the streets of Bracknell, 

please call the council's stray dog hotline as a matter of urgency.


I'm pleased to say that Jacqueline Pimblott is not exactly on my Christmas card list; however, it did get me thinking.  Maybe Mr P does need a companion?

48 hours later, having considered it at length, I purchased a beautiful female Doberman Pinscher from a rescue centre.  I also bought a nice bling collar studded with 24 diamonds, and some other footwear accessories for her.  

I don't like common dog's names, so I have decided to call her Brenda.  Here is a photo of Brenda, wearing a pair of specially-adapted red canine high heels I also picked up online.
My new Doberman, Brenda, wearing specially-made-for-dogs blood-red high heels
and a bling collar.

She is beautiful, isn't she?  And Mr P is much calmer and very welcoming of his new companion!   

Well, Jacqueline, you might not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, but that doesn't excuse you from trolling all the bars in Bracknell trying to pick up 21 year old boy-next-door types! 

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