Today’s literary piece commences with my little canine buddy Coco, whose enchanting company I currently enjoy, undertaking a perimeter check of my back garden. Whether partaken as a strategy for reducing jeopardy to her pack, ie me, or that she just doesn’t fancy watching ‘Home Under The Hammer’ on telly, I doubt I’ll ever know.

As alluded to in yesterday’s prose, Dog Sitting, being unable to exchange dialogue with canines, you can’t be certain of the prevailing thought processes playing out within their capricious minds. Subsequently, her being a mass of contradictions, I’m unsure of the catalyst to my furry guest’s meander around the garden perimeter.

That being said, behavioural traits do allow some insight into her thinking. Such as her bark predominantly springs forth during excitable hazes which manifest when meeting people, or the dinner bell ‘rings’.

This sound also utilised if she hears someone/something in the close vicinity of the home that may project danger. A confrontational enough growl, proffered from inside the home, endeavouring to deter prospective intruders.

Anyone who knows the adorable lab/retriever cross, though, will tell you witnessing her backing up this show of force with any form of attack is highly unlikely. This canine keyboard warrior a fully paid up member of the Bark Worse Than Their Bite Club.

Above – My little buddy – Moments before her sad eyes fleecing me out of half of today’s lunch.

As much as I love her, I’ve one concern about dog sitting this four legged beauty. Consequential of picking up her seemingly endless poops, I’m uneasy about sustaining a repetitive stress injury (RSI) to my lower back. Despite her only being under my care for 24 hours, Coke’s already bequeathed a grand total of six bowel movements for bagging and binning…… Does anyone own a mini-excavator I could borrow?

As I commence this paragraph, I’ve just been subject to the partial canine shake down of my lunch. Coco’s shameless blackmail preying heavily on her awareness I capitulate woefully when confronted with a set of sad eyes. Subsequently, I felt violated upon finishing the little food I could consume prior to her demolishing her dubiously gotten gains….. In addition, yours truly was also left pretty bloody hungry.

This evening I’m going to cook a one pot corned beef hash for old fur face and me. As a contingency strategy, I’m in the process of emptying an under stair cupboard. A chamber to uninterruptedly consume my cuisine should Cokey yet again attempt to extort food from my plate.

After lunch, to repay my generosity at begrudgingly sharing my midday food, old sandy pelt brought me a soft toy depicting a cast member of the 2006 animation ‘Happy Feet’. What followed were several ‘tug of war’ battles in which I fought to remove it from my lab buddy’s vice-like jaws. Whether it wanted to or not, the stuffed penguin portraying the role of a rope,

Taking into account the leverage/purchase being exerted on both sides of this stuffed penguin, it was with some surprise its head didn’t detach from the body. In this throw away culture, an impressive resistance for a tug of war between a labrador’s jaw and a near 14 stone man. Reinstating faith not all products fall to pieces as soon as removed from its packaging.

Anyhow, time for Coco’s afternoon walk….. Now where’s those poop bags?!

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