It's a Wonderful Life…

…isn't it…?

The Dog that Doesn’t Speak English July 8, 2012

I may have mentioned, once or twice, that my parents have a penchant for rescuing waifs and strays. This week I have received a constant stream of hysterical text messages from my mother. You see, she decided, this time, to rescue a dog from a group of ex pats out in Spain who have been lovingly rescuing and nurturing some very sad cases of animal cruelty and neglect. This dog hadn’t been neutered and, despite only being a baby herself, had gotten caught out and ended up with a litter of mouths to feed. My Mum took pity on this little being and decided she should come and live with us.

Bonita – means “pretty little one” in Spanish

 

Text message received after Bonita’s first night in her new home:

She’s following me everywhere like a lamb. Poppy [my dog] hates her. She has chased the cats out of the house and won’t let them back in the garden. She won’t listen when I tell her to stop

Text message returned:

She doesn’t speak English, what do you expect?

Text message to Mum the next day:

How are you today, much sleep? Still hysterical and a silly English woman getting between a dog and her toys?

Reply:

No. Yes. She’s been on the roof.

My response:

HAHAHAHAHA. You mean the house roof don’t you? How did she get there?

Reply:

Yes. Landing window was open.

Text message back:

Senorita Bonita thinks she can fly. Nuhnuhnuhnunnuh BAT DOG!

That evening, to calm my Mum’s hysterics about having this loony puppy that doesn’t speak English climbing on the roof, we went out for a walk. Surprisingly, the expected arch enemy, Poppy, actually rather likes bat dog now and they walk along side by side like the best of friends.

However, our nice, peaceful walk was interrupted when they both tried to give chase to a pair of wild bunnies lolloping merrily across the golf course. And then.

SQUIRREL

SQUIRREL.SQUIRREL.SQUIRREL.

Turns out our little Spanish one is quite fond of a squirrel. Sees them everywhere in fact. If you have ever seen the film UP you will understand what I mean when I say that she is every inch Dug the Dog.

 

I have also been obliged to point out that it’s very much a “dogs and their owners” thing as she displays “squirrel” tendencies on occasion: breaking off midway through a conversation and interjecting with an entirely unrelated topic. Anyone who has read my post “My Boyfriend Has Renamed Me Jim” will understand exactly what I’m talking about here.

SQUIRREL

 

There, undoubtedly, will be more to follow on the adventures of the dog that doesn’t speak English so stay tuned, lovely readers J

 

My Boyfriend Has Renamed Me Jim February 19, 2012

This is because after spending a day in my Mother’s company I am at the stage where I struggle to remember my own name. I was in the middle of a sentence which I stopped abruptly and couldn’t remember where I was going with it (a Mother favourite). He prompted me to continue but I couldn’t and told him so and that, really, I wasn’t even sure I could remember my own name at present: “Jim” was what he called me.

I regularly inform my Mother that she has “early onset” although she has told me I need to stop saying it in case someone takes offence. Incidentally, last week when I was talking to someone at work about my Mum’s inability to retain information for more than 3 minutes, they did actually point out to be that Alzheimer’s isn’t funny and I shouldn’t joke about things like that: “I’m not joking, she really does have early onset” ok I probably didn’t respond in the most adult manner but I have a VERY warped sense of humour (which they really should know by now) which led to me informing my Mum that someone with Alzheimer’s wouldn’t actually mind and get all PC about it, because within a few minutes of my saying it they would have forgotten anyway.( I am in no way to be considered to be mocking Alzheimer’s or Dementia: I realise more needs to be done to raise awareness of these issues) I just, quite literally, am the kind of person that would laugh at a funeral – I REALLY have done that. I would say ask my Mum to back me up on that one but, well, she probably doesn’t remember. Memory loss isn’t really a joke. Because it’s coming my way: I take after my Mother in a whole lot of ways. That’s why when I remind her that I will be choosing her nursing home and she responds that its okay because she is going to come over and wee on my furniture I am not at all concerned: I wont remember this agreement or even that she wee’d on my sofa.

We drove to somewhere my Mum had never seen before today and pulled into the car park “Oh, is this it? I don’t like it. It looks like somewhere you might dump a dead body” my response to this? “Mother, if I was confident in my ability to drive any car back home safely, let alone yours, I would be seriously considering testing that dead body theory…[long pause]…sorry what was I saying?”