Doctor Who

Imagine if Doctor Who had Airedales as his assistants.
They are brave, helpful, enthusiastic and mad as a hatter. They don't pay much attention to that timey-wimey stuff and love to press buttons they shouldn't just to see what happens. Happy to bark at daleks. Scoff at anyone who calls themselves The Master.

We got this printed on an iPhone case as a birthday present for Mum's niece, who lives way over the other side of the world. Hope she likes it!

Digger

This blog used to just for Mojo. But then so did the dog food.

Meet Digger aka "Captain Cuddle".

Handsome, yes? He's going to be a year old in two weeks. He's already 30kg and in the full throes of adolescence. Poor boy fell desperately in love with Mojo this week - triggered by them both having a bath and coming up fragrant with cinnamon dog shampoo. Nothing rude going on, just heartbreaking, obsessional luuuuurve. But I get ahead of myself.

Here's how it started. Mojo is really into other dogs, and we're really into her (she's awesome, like all Dales). We kept talking about another puppy but never doing anything about it, until we saw an ad within reasonable distance. We went to have a look. Just a look. Let's gloss over the fact we stopped at the bank to get the entire amount required. And took the cat basket just in case.

Anyway, he's one of 10 pups brought up in a lovely home. We could have stayed there all day.

We chose the calmest, cuddliest boy. He was earmarked for someone else, but they weren't even going to come and see him. They lived in one of the poshest parts of central London and were going to sent the chauffeur down to collect him. Imagine! Wonder how long he would have lasted till he was returned to the breeder.

So back we came with a little brother for Mojo, just in time for her birthday.

She turned out to be the most exceptional mother-substitute (once she got over the shock). It's like she grew up overnight. And gained a few white hairs in the process. Here's Day 2 with Digger literally running rings around her.

What's really strange is that I have a picture of Mojo with Digger's dad. Here's Mojo at 5 months checking out Gunner's posterior.

Funny old world.

ummm....

Oh dear. I had a little nap. I was snoring a little.




And the last time I blogged was April 2008! Whaaat? Am I Rip Van Winkle or something?

I'm sure everyone gave up on me a long time ago, so I'm probably talking to myself. But I've been meaning to get started again. Mum still reads many of the other dog blogs so I know a little of what's been going on - glad to see everyone is keeping their humans on their toes. There's been a lot of heartbreaking stories too. Only the other day we lost Maggie, which made us very sad indeed. It made me realise that if people stopped blogging I'd never know how they were, and that would be awful.

So in case you forgot what this gorgeous mug of mine looks like:


You can't imagine what's been happening round here these last few years. First they go all Damien Hirst on me and stick me in a tank:


Then they rescue this huge panther:


And if that wasn't enough, they got me this as a birthday present last year - I can guarantee it hasn't stayed this quiet or cute ever since:


Right, off for another nap. Girl needs her beauty sleep, right?
This time I promise it won't be 4 years.

Meet my nemesis

I have a new enemy and he lives next door.

I first spotted him when dad went round to the neighbours to discuss onions. He and Tim, our neighbour, wandered down the garden to his vegetable patch, and that's when I saw him.

He was lurking under a tree, looking suspicious. I knew instantly that he was up to no good. So I rushed over and started barking at him for all I was worth. But it had no effect at all. He just sat there, all calm and serene, with that stony stare on his face.

So I barked and barked some more, but he remains calm, impassive and serene. I don't like it. What do you think? He's got a nasty look about him, hasn't he?



It's like he's some kind of anti-dale.

The next day Tim opened the gate and I shot through and rushed over to check if he was still there. And he was sitting in the same place, the same calm, impassive expression. So I barked and barked - but nothing.

I can sense he's there through the fence. I bark at him from our garden now and then just to let him know I'm keeping an eye on him.

What do you think I should do?

Mum to Mojo - Part 4 from Airedelaide

Get your best collar on, girl. I'm on my way home. 

I set off tomorrow (Adelaide time) and arrive on Monday morning (British time). Lucky me gets sent home in business class because I need to have my foot up, and apparently I'll have a little army of people to push me round different airports and push my bags too. I even get a special car to drive me from the airport to my front door. 

It almost makes up for the weeks I'll have to endure a plaster cast.

Why does it always have to itch where I can't scratch?

Anyway, treat me gently as I have to go straight to the local hospital with jetlag to get my cast replaced. 

After that... you and me get to party!

 see you soon, crazy pupster

xxx

Mum

Mum to Mojo - Part 3

Happy birthday little pupgirl! I wish I was there to give you a proper birthday cuddle, but I'm way over the other side of the world. Sorry, my little fuzzbutt.

Still, Dad seems to be keeping things fun at your end. In fact, I have a sneaky suspicion you two are having more fun without me than when I am there. I know dad says he's tearing his hair out over your demanding ways, but we all know that's a big fib as he doesn't have any hair left to tear out.

The first time we met you, you were a tiny 4 week old pup, one of 3 girls and 5 boys. I picked you up and you did a big puddle all over my hand. But you were such a cute little sausage I didn't mind. Your fur-Dad, Zippo, was stunningly handsome and made a grand entrance. He walked straight up to your human Dad and peed up his trouser leg. Meanwhile, your fur-mum, Blade, was being a gentle sweetie whilst sneakily raiding the rubbish bin. Sound familiar? By the way, bet you didn't know that your fur-dad's grandmother was Best of Breed at Crufts. We didn't tell you before because we didn't want you to get too self-important.

The next time we met you were 7 weeks old. We had to choose between you and your little sister, the little tiny one. You were both marching around bossing us all with your needle teeth and begging attention from the Jack Russell terrier on the farm. But something just made us choose you, and so you came home with us. And life has been so much better since (despite the i-pod chewing and the cat chasing).

Happy birthday sweetie pup.

xxx

Mum

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me

Hey, guess what.... It's my birthday. I had no idea, but dad came downstairs this morning singing happy birthday (don't ask about his singing, just don't ask). He says I was born a year ago today.

He also said I'm a big girl now and have to start acting all mature and sensible. Ha ha! That's not the dale way of doing things, now is it?

He's promised to take me on a great walk, although it's raining and windy and miserable out. But I've got some new toys. Here's dad handing over the pressie:

And me cracking it open:

There were two presents inside one package:

One is a blue chewy thing that bounces a lot. It's great. The other looks like a chicken but honks like a goose. It's a great sound and sure to drive the humans mad.

Now, I'll have those back, thanks dad:

He said he thought about baking me a cake, but didn't want me to get food poisoning. You know, I don't think he has the faintest idea how to bake a cake. If only mum was here.... owwwwhhh.

He says he's got me a bag of bones instead. Yummy!

Anyway, have fun everyone. And Noah - say hello to my mum when you see her. She's out your way somewhere. You're sure to bump into her.