On being a PAT dog

Paddy here, just to give you an update on the little white thing and his therapping.

Yesterday, Jenny took him to meet the area co-ordinator, who was taking them both on one of her visits to a nursing home. 

They were away ALL afternoon and skipped off at lunchtime without so much as a backward glance. It's lucky for me that Keith was still here, although he was outside most of the time playing some game arranging bricks in the front garden. All beyond me, but I expect Jenny will get round to telling you about it some time soon. 

Of course, when they finally did come back, Jake's head was bigger than ever. (I really am going to have to take him in hand and remind him who's boss!) He was strutting around telling me about how the people at the nursing home had thought he was absolutely wonderful and one old lady had wanted to keep him! Unfortunately, he didn't give me her name so that I could contact her and say, "She's all yours, Missis!"

Mind you, he did seem quite tired and spent most of the evening asleep. Jenny said that the lady who took them had a black labrador called Bill and, when he was not being fussed over, Jake spent most of his time with his nose 'in close proximity with Bill's posterior.'

Of course, being only a humble dog, I have no idea what that means, but I get the feeling it's not something to boast about...

Says it so well

Stolen unashamedly from a status on my Canadian friend, Dale's Facebook page.

Good, eh?

Failed again!

A few weeks ago, Jenny decided that it would be nice if she could take us to visit residential homes or special school, or even the local hospital so that elderly or ill people or children could have the chance to spend some time with us. Apparently, a lot of research has been done which has shown that contact with animals, nice ones, of course, can be very beneficial to people's health. Well, they didn't need to do research to discover that; I could have told them long ago if they'd only thought to ask.

Anyway, to get back to the subject in hand, she contacted a charity called Pets as Therapy and booked Jake and myself in for an assessment. Well, I suppose she had to include the little 'un. Wouldn't want him to feel left out, but we all knew how this was going to end, right? I was going to be welcomed with open arms.
Unfortunately, the lady who assessed us was obviously having an off day and was less than receptive to my charms. Well, I can't think of any other reason why the white idiot should pass and I should fail! Something about 'pulling on the lead' - just an excuse, if you ask me and of course, little Fatty has been trotting around with a head twice the size of normal, crowing about how he would soon be 'off to therap people!'
My attitude is, if they don't want me, that's up to them, but they don't know what they're missing. The letter did say something about trying again in six months, but I don't know if I shall bother, you know.
It's just SOOOO unfair!