Dog training

Every morning Paddy and I go for a walk and every morning, when we get back, I break up two little chew sticks and put them in a special ball that he has with a hole in it. The idea is that he has to chase it round to get the treats to fall out so that he can eat them.
So far, so good. But every morning, I make sterling efforts to persuade Paddy to go and fetch said ball so that I can put the treats in it and every morning, he looks at me blankly, even when I point to the ball, put it under his nose, roll it past him or do cartwheels round the room with the ball between my teeth. (OK I lied about the last one, but even if I did it, it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference.) Da dawg is not for fetching - balls, quoits, toys - you name it, he won't fetch it, which, considering he would chase and fell a cat at 20 paces, given the chance, is surprising.

So Keith lent him his cap to try and warm up his brain cells.














Which, as you can see, worked a treat!

Pearly whites and goggles

I achieved something quite amazing last week. I managed to persuade Keith that he needed appointments with the dentist and the optician. I think it may have been the pain of his arm being thrust between his shoulder blade that did the trick but, suffice it to say, he has not seen the inside of an optician's lair for at least eight years and, as for the dentist:
"If you don't go," I threatened, "they will charge you for the missed appointment and take you off their list and you know how difficult it was to find an NHS dentist with vacancies..."
So he went to the dentist yesterday.
Bear in mind that this is a man who, I am convinced, was the prototype for Just William and so is never going to be a candidate for teeth whitening and other cosmetic dentistry but who returned from the dentist bearing a satisfied smirk and the news that he needed no treatment. (In contrast to moi who takes fanatical care of her teeth, yet still needed a filling to be replaced!)
Today it was was turn of the optician. An hour later, he returned in a state of some considerable agitation at the cost of his new glasses. Useless to remind him that the last time he had a new pair of glasses, they were still being made with real glass lenses and tortoiseshell frames, the man was inconsolable.
I think he may need to go and lie down in a darkened room...