Jake's visit

Giles' dog Jake has been visiting this week. He's the posh one, the Bichon Frise, although he looks rather like a mophead at the moment, hence my new name for him.

He arrived last Thursday and it was then that we discovered that Paddy is gay. It may have been the two hours he spent pursuing Jake in a considerably gay fashion that gave the game away. Maybe he had an abusive puppyhood but he didn't seem to realise that playing did not automatically have to be sexual in nature. However, Jake has been fighting his corner and Paddy is learning - gradually.

Other than that, they get on fine. Problems arise when it's time for a walk. Taking the two of them together is not easy on the nerves. Paddy pulls frantically on the lead if there is a cat within a two mile radius and Jake is just frantic because he's ecstatic at the idea of going for a walk (it doesn't happen at home) and follows a route which inevitably criss-crosses continually under my feet.

So, walks had to be taken separately. Taking Jake first seemed a good idea. He only has little legs and doesn't need to go far. The problem there is that, during our absence, Paddy hurls himself inconsolably at the window and whines continually until we return. So, we bite the bullet. I take them both round the block and Jake then stays at home quite contentedly while I take Paddy for his marathon.

But I can't say I'll be sorry when it's just Paddy again.

Accreditation

A couple of weeks ago I spent a day at a very nice hotel near Gloucester. It coincided nicely with a weekend spent visiting Dad, just outside Bristol. The reason for the hotel visit? Well, it was a workshop to help prepare counsellors to apply for accreditation with the British Association for Counselling and Paychotherapy, otherwise known as the BACP.
I am already a member but this is the next step and, yes, it does, on the face of it, seem a little excessive to need to go on a workshop in order to be able to fill in the aplication form!
However, although I wasn't really looking forward to it, I did find it helpful and it has given me the push I needed to start the process. It is lengthy and time-consuming and has to be done just right, otherwise you are 'deferred' and have to pay another £70 to resubmit - that's in addition to the initial £210.
What I am finding, however, is that doing it is more interesting and satisfying than I thought it would be and it certainly makes me reflect on my practice, which can't be any bad thing...
I say this now, but how I shall feel at the end of it all is another matter.
Ah well, What is it the RAF say?
Per ardua ad astra!

Lunching out

I met up with Silverback today. I should have been writing 'Keith and I met up..' but Keith didn't make it, mainly because he had been working at Chirk and hadn't listened to me tell him that Ian was arriving at 12 o'clock, not 1 o'clock, but also because, as it happened, he couldn't get away on time anyway.
"Men just never listen," I commented as I ended my call to Keith, prior to ordering Ian's meal, having not listened to him asking for the 'Lighter Bite' option. (Well, I'm not denying that we women have the occasional lapse, you know.)
Anyway, I pulled up in the pub car park and spotted the real life version of 'Silverback' almost immediately. So far, I've only met up with one other blogger, Yorkshire Pudding last year and of course, it's quite different from other first time meetings. Because of following their blogs, it's more like meeting up with an old friend. I feel I know a lot about them already and we're just picking up the conversation where we left off and so it was with Ian.
I really enjoyed meeting up with him but unfortunately, Ian had miles to go before the end of his day, so all too soon, he had to leave.
However, he and Daphne are going to come back later this summer, so we should all get the chance to meet up then.
Here's wishing him a lovely, relaxing week in Tenby!

It's just good manners!

This week I have had three phone calls from potential new clients, for all of whom I have arranged appointments this week and of whom, one has actually kept the appointment.
This means that on Wednesday morning and this morning, I made sure I was up early, had taken Paddy for his usual long walk and got myself ready and settled in my counselling room ...
to wait..... and wait.... for inconsiderate people who didn't turn up.
Not that I mind them changing their minds. Maybe they got a better offer elsewhere or something cropped up that meant they had to be somewhere else at the time of the appointment.
What I do mind - and I accept that maybe I need counselling for this! - is that they consider my time of so little importance that they can't even be bothered to pick up the phone and tell me they are not coming, for whatever reason. To me it shows a lack of respect for me as a professional and a lamentable lack of good manners and thoughtfulness, which, sadly, is all too common these days.
Oh, and this afternoon, I raced back from my lunch with friends in Chester to wait in for a tradesman who - guess what? - didn't turn up!

Paddy again

Me again, folks! Just to give you an update on my progress according to 'She who must be obeyed'.
I am much calmer now when I see a cat strolling past the window. I don't splatter myself across the window and hang from the window catch any more. OK, I suppose that's a bit of an exaggeration, but only a bit. So that's good, Jenny says. And I am fairly good at coming when called, especially in the back garden, but you can't expect a fellow to come when he's just got the scent of a cat or a squirrel. Jenny calls it being obsessed and she says there is no way she could let me off the lead when we're out because she couldn't be sure I'd come back when called. I would, of course - eventually, possibly with a mouthful of fur. No, maybe that wouldn't go down too well. So, when we're out on the field or in the valley, I am on the extending lead so that I can do a bit of running about. Sometimes , though, I forget and go charging off, only to be pulled up short by a strangling sensation!
Unfortunately, I have recently got into the habit of barking at other dogs. Only some of them and I only want to play but I guess they find me a bit too boisterous, and their owners certainly do. I'll have to keep an eye on that, I suppose.
But last night was REALLY exciting. I spotted a little fieldmouse scuttling around the bins (well, that's what Jenny said it was) so of course, I couldn't pass up an opportunity like that. Yes, I know, Jenny told me afterwards that cats chase mice, not dogs, but there wasn't anything else around and I'm not proud. The trouble was, I made such a noise pushing the bins around trying to catch it that Jenny came out to see what the noise was, grabbed me by the collar and marched me indoors. The ignominy! In front of a mouse - to be treated with such a lack of respect!
Needless to say, the mouse made a run for it and when I was let out again before bedtime, try as I might, I couldn't find it again.
Gee, some people are such spoilsports!

The oldest man in the world

Henry Allingham, veteran of the first World War has, at the age of 113, now become the world's oldest man. He attributes his longevity to 'whisky, cigarettes and wild, wild women.' Maybe those who work in our Nanny state and concern themselves incessantly with nagging us not to drink or smoke will take note.
Meanwhile, for those of us ladies who would also like a long and vigorous life, I assume that the recipe for us would be 'whisky, cigarettes and wild, wild men.'
So where are they then?
The men, I mean - of course...

Note to Paddy

Dear Paddy,
Yes, I have noticed that you have been attempting a bit of sly digging in the corner of my new pebbly bit of the garden. That's why there is an upside down empty clay plantpot strategically placed there - to stop you.
But you didn't stop, did you?
Listen carefully, mutt. I shall say zees only once!
It is physically impossible for you to dig a deep enough hole to get under the fence and through to next door's garden. Long before you have got anywhere near completing the task, I shall have tied your paws together - permanently!
Secondly, even if you did manage it, do you really think the cats would stick around long enough for you to catch them?
Do it again, laddie, and you're a dead dog!
Got it? Good.
Now when I throw the frisbee, if you could bring yourself to run after it, pick it up and bring it back, I would be very impressed. You will find it much more enjoyable than grabbing it in your mouth and then getting one paw stuck in the hole as well.

Love from Jenny xx