It’s that time of year

Bichos. Garrapatas. Sheep or goat ticks whatever you call them.

I don’t like them in my fur. And I don’t like it at all when they get hooked in, and master pulls them off.

Mistress usually screams. Wimp. And calls for master.

Normally I don’t get them because master and mistress give me drops every couple of months.

But at the moment when we walk up the track, there are lots of goats and sheep. There are also lots of horses and donkeys round here too.

So when we get home master looks at me very carefully and checks me with his hands too in case any of them have jumped on me when they have been hiding in the shadows, waiting for me to go past.

There are more of them at this time of year because of the change in the weather. It is too cold in winter for them and too hot in summer.

It’s a good thing I have lots of pale fur, because they stand out. They look like little dark spiders although they only have six legs. And because master and mistress always look for them, they don’t get chance to stay long.

I have tablets too. There is nothing wrong with me, but there are also lots of fleas around here in the countryside with all the animals and especially the feral cats.

Mistress isn’t keen on dosing me up to the eyeballs with stuff, but we all think it is better than me carrying a load of hangers-on.

Especially when I sleep on the sofa.

It’s mine

This is today’s omelette for all my new friends to share. Mistress only had one egg for three of us so she put in some curried rice with peas, and artichokes. Yum.

“Give it to me”

“That last bit is mine. Now”

My story (1)

I watched them come up the hillside. There were four of them.

They seemed very happy and the two people were laughing and chattering. The dogs had big grins on their faces.

I started walking towards them but the woman with the black dog stopped. The man with the German Shepherd said: “Don’t worry, he’s not going to come near.”

And they continued up the hillside right to the top by the bull. When they came down, I started to follow them, but I kept my distance.

They looked a happy pack. I thought they might like another member. I had been on the streets for months and it was cold and wet in winter.

I had to fight all the other street dogs for food. My ear was hanging off, my coat was matted and huge clumps of fur were missing. I had lots of scabs and sores. The fur all round my throat was pink from blood during some of the fights.

The village dogs didn’t want me in their packs because I was too big. No-one wanted me because I was too big.

They went happily over the stream but before I could follow them into the village the goatherder came down the bed of the stream with his goats and sheep. I ran away again because he often threw stones at me.

A couple of days later I was starving. I thought I would see if I could find any food in the village. And I met them again, but without the two dogs.

I followed them cautiously down the street and then the woman stopped and spoke nicely to me. I went to sniff her and she smelt warm and friendly, and of the other dogs. The man came near, but I backed off because men often hit me.

“This must be the dog that Barbara told us about,” said the woman. “You know, the one she said looked like a big Alsatian.”

“That was back in October,” said the man. (It was January now.)

“Yes, that’s right, but don’t you think he looks like he has been on the streets since then?” she added.

“We really can’t have another dog,” he said in a not-very-convinced voice.

And then a horrid big truck came past and I cowered into the fence. The woman was very upset and tried to comfort me, and then they left. So I followed them down the street, and out onto the old railway line.

It was nice and quiet, so I thought I would keep following them and then perhaps they would go home and take me with them. But then a strange man came up waving his arms around and shouting loudly so I got frightened and ran away.


Breakfast time is one of my fave times of the day.

When we get back in from our walk, master makes a coffee and sometimes we sit together on my sofa.

Master looks at the internet for a while and I wait patiently. If he takes too long though, I give him a few gentle nudges.

Then we go into the kitchen and master gets my tin and fills it full of biscuits. The most exciting bit comes next when he adds some tasties. Normally mistress always makes sure when she cooks food for them there is something left for me, like lots of peas. Yummy.

This is such a wonderful moment in the day so I jump round the kitchen in circles barking loudly. I think the whole village should know that I am just about to eat my scranny breakfast.

And it doesn’t end there, because when master and mistress have something to eat, I get more. Sometimes they eat breakfast at different times so I get three breakfasts altogther. Bliss.

But today they ate at the same time which is a bit more difficult as I have to sit looking at one beseechingly and then do a quick turn round and roll my big eyes at the other one.

They went out of the way to be difficult today as master took his omelette sandwich onto the terrace while mistress ate her omelette on a plate in the kitchen. I spent more time running between the two of them than eating omelette.

Driving in my Land Rover

I like to go driving in my Land Rover.

Today we went to the shops. I like to go to the shops. In fact I like to go anywhere.

I get to look out of the window at all the other little dogs and cats. Or if I get bored with that I can lie down and smell everything coming through the door and the windows.

Master and mistress took me in the Land Rover for the first time before Christmas.

I had been in the back of one before when master and I were out for a walk and one of his friends came past so we both jumped in.

But it’s a bit difficult to get in the back of ours because it is full of master’s junk.

So I had to jump in the middle door and onto the seat. I wasn’t quite sure what to do at first, but mistress got in, and then master put my front feet on the floor and lifted me in. Then mistress patted the seat so up I got.

The back seat is very comfy. Mistress used to sit with me in the back while I got used to it, but now she goes in the front so I have it all to myself. How cool. Although I quite like to put my front paws on her legs.

When master gets out to go shopping I jump in the front and sit there with mistress and we watch everyone coming and going. Then master comes back and we go home across the river. Usually we stop by the river for a wander up and down.

I don’t like it when master goes to the shops on his own though. I have to stay in with mistress when I know I should really be going out with master in the Land Rover to play.

TV dinners

After tea, mistress and I go and watch television.

I say after tea, but it isn’t tea at all, it’s their last meal of the day about 9pm ish, and it is invariably a manky bowl of salad. I don’t get any of it, and to be honest at that time of night, I’m not really interested. They are always eating the stuff. I only like it when she puts something interesting in, like peas. I love peas. They are scrummy.

Master then goes to bed, natch, as he has to be up early to take me out first thing. I go to my sofa and curl up, and mistress starts messing around with one of her blogs.

Then when Arrayan comes on, she comes and disturbs me and sits on the sofa. She can only perch right at the end as otherwise the ironing board is in the way. Arrayan – apparently – is a Spanish soap opera based on a hotel. A bit like Crossroads for anyone British who is old enough to remember that.

Mistress claims she never watched soap operas in the UK – apart from something called Sunset Beach – but she hasn’t done too badly since she came here. Good for learning the Spanish she claims. As if. She should be fluent by now.

So we sit there together wondering whether Alba is going to stay with her newish husband or really go back to Israel, the father of her son. Or how Charo manages to get so many boyfriends at 40+ (mistress is very interested in this one). Or at what point Blanca is going to discover that her boyfriend Bruno has been going out with her daughter (can’t remember her name).

After about ten minutes of this drivel I get bored and go and flop under kitchen table. Master and I clearly have the right idea. It’s a load of tosh.

My den

Mistress has agreed to write a few more posts for me this week so I don’t have an empty blog. So that’s good.

Yesterday we were all out on the front terrace and I was standing patiently looking at my ball. It had rolled between two plantpots.

Mistress was faffing around doing something useless.

“Oh, Pippa,” said master in his kind voice. “You can’t get your ball can you and she’s not even noticed.” That’s exactly right master, I thought.

“Get Pippa’s ball then,” he ordered. So she stopped doing nothing in particular and gave me the ball. I pretended to take her hand too, but I wasn’t really interested in it.

I scampered off with my ball to my den, and lay down with my rear end towards them so they could see I did not want any interference.

My den is a wonderful place. When it is too hot and sunny, or too windy, or even raining, I can go there and I am sheltered. It is a large table set against the wall, with plantpots and some comfy old compost bags underneath. Sometimes I gather all my toys and put them in the den.

It spotted with rain for a short while yesterday. I don’t like the rain. When I was living on the streets I used to get very wet because I didn’t have a proper home. Sometimes I would try and find shelter on the building sites, but I had to run off and hide somewhere else before the builders came back to work or some of them would throw stones at me.

Now when it rains during the day, I can just lie in my den, with my toys. Or I can always go inside and jump on the sofa if it rains too heavily and I start to get wet.