On my designated Slob Day earlier this week, that great bloke and long-time friend of Michael. young Grant O'Mullane headed for Heavenly Beverley for an overdue visit. As teenagers, Grant and his brother Leigh would join Michael on motorbike adventures through the Perth Hills to the Lakes, which really was Boys' Own Country. They forged a relationship that endured for more than forty years.
Grant has retired and occasionally finds himself at a bit of a loose end. He has renovated a Charger with one of his sons, and enjoys time with the family. Reading is another passion of his, but every now and then, he turns his station wagon eastwards for an outing with purpose.
A relatively new addition to his life is his Grand-Oodle Teddy. A handsome caramel coloured dog with an obviously joyous nature, Grant referred to him as being an excellent companion, but unfortunately not well endowed in the intelligence department. Grant's language was a tad more direct, but as Teddy is still a puppy, perhaps one could describe him as just being a sandwich short of a picnic.
Lexi, our own excitable puppy, could fall into the category of having"shit for brains". She has been resident at Station House for almost five weeks, but we can't imagine her not being in our lives. Four-year-old Kelpie cross Stella, was rather unsure of the pesky interloper for a few days, until suddenly she seemed to realise she had been gifted a playmate. In addition, Stella has been promoted to Intellectual Giant, compared with her little sibling.
Now, the noise of play fills our house. Chasey, along with much gnashing of teeth is a favourite pastime, along with hurling a tennis ball and racing each other to retrieve it. Tormenting the cat, peeling the cover off a tennis ball and licking peanut butter out of their Kongs provides hours of endless fun. Lexi is Stella's shadow, watching the world go past our gate and becoming as thoroughly as animated as her Big Sister.
Apart from the usual War Wounds caused by her needle sharp puppy teeth, there has been as much damage as we expected. Hole digging is still a favourite exercise, she loves pinching and chomping plastic plant labels and a few books' spines have been Oodlely altered by her, but she has not (thankfully) reached the dizzying heights of Stella's sofa destruction or multiple thong destroyer.
But Lexi is VERY LOUD, with that piercing puppy bark that could wake the dead. She generally begins the morning perched on the top of our doggy barricade, gazing plaintively into our bedroom, willing us to rise. If that ploy doesn't work, she will erupt into tragic wails to further convince us to leave our boudoir. Stella, very much her Partner-in-Crime, will add muted growly grunts, not quite a bark, but difficult to ignore. When I finally succumb to their steely wills, I enter the mayhem of mornings. Lexi's breakfast is followed by a Poop Patrol and emptying the dishwasher. Having a second canine clown is akin to the second baby - the poohing has more than doubled and both muddy and poohy footprints frequently are spread across the floor, given Lexi's propensity for standing in her own bottom waste. And her farting is legendary for its aroma de shit.
In fact, I believe that Lexi has somehow been imbued with the spirit of a very loud (and sometimes disruptive) member of another family. Noisy Nora is the middle mouse "child" in a household often exasperated by her efforts to gain attention. In a delightful story written by Rosemary Wells, Nora slams doors, pokes her sister with a pencil, knocks over furniture, spills her sister's marbles and flies her baby brother's kite down the stairs. The response Nora receives is "Quiet, said her father. Hush, said her mum. Nora, said her sister, why are you so dumb?"
Finally, Nora has had enough - "I'm leaving, shouted Nora, and I'm never coming back! And they didn't hear a sound except tra-la-la from Jack." Suddenly, her parents and sister are distraught at her flight and begin a frantic search. "She's left us, moaned her mother, as they sifted through the trash..." Nora, deciding her family have learnt their lesson emerges from the linen cupboard. "But I'm back again, said Nora, with a monumental crash!" Returned to the bosom of her family, Nora is embraced and celebrated.
The moral of this story? Beware of silence. When Lexi is quiet, I always go in search of her. Having a puppy is similar to having a naughty toddler, a sneaky partner or a conniving teenager. Never take them for granted. Try to reward the desired behaviour. Have lots of patience and remember to enjoy the ride.
Thus endeth the lesson.
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