So after much deliberation between himself and I, the usual 'can we afford it?', 'will we be able to cope with the cleaning up?', 'who'll take the night shift?', we are proud to confirm the patter of tiny feet, or more accurately tiny paws. Yes, just in time for the Summer holidays we have bought a wonderful and might I add with no maternal bias, beautifully gorgeous Border Collie. I do wonder however if bought is the correct word to describe the process, which feels more like an adoption (albeit an expensive one-think Angelina Jolie). Indeed there was a character inspection, property suitability debate and several recurring visits to offer guidance and counselling on how to cope with the transition. However at the end of it all, we were able to celebrate his 'coming of age' by popping him in the boot of the car and high-tailing it back to our place before he weed all over the interior (again think Jolie adoption scenario).
Within seconds of being in the door there was a toileting incident that could rival any teenagers favourite YouTube clip. I turned to hubby with a smug grin, "good job we put that laminate down" I tittered, before rolling my eyes and fetching the Flash. Sadly my smugness was premature as the puppy promptly raised his tail once more and our cream dining carpet was no longer (cream or even 65% wool, the majority percentage content now being something else!). And so we rolled up the offend-ed item and deposited it outside whilst encouraging the puppy to make his deposit outside also.
So begins life with Rodney...
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