Busy doing nothing

I have been busy.

Looking after Misery's sock in fact.

Nice comfy sock full of Pippafur


I'm not sure I have been busy doing much else though.

I haven't logged in so I haven't visited anyone, Misery is even cheating now by using her log in occasionally because it has a pic of me on it and she thinks that is acceptable. It is not. I need to comment on my friends' blogs in my own right Misery, so there.

Oh, but for those of you non-Facebook pals, she has actually, finally, after only a few months posted about the nasty tick disease thing.

The link is here to her blog. It is not as boring as I thought it would be as she writes about ME! as well as boring pharmacology and the disease and prevention and all that sort of stuff humans are interested in. Anyway I feature first in the post so that is good.

Another reason I haven't been around is because she went to work with Master. She discovered a C.A.T. called Oscar. He was rescued from the cattery place here in Gib. They became friends, sort of. Until it bared its teeth at her. You should have taken me to work Misery, I would have sorted that little black monster.

Oliver supervising the decorating - hey Ollie! get off my dogblog!



But I was busy guarding my flat.

In my undertable den

My nose, I mean, my news.... or maybe both

I felt rather out of sorts. I lay on my sofa and watched Misery making my breakfast.

'Master' she said, observantly. 'Look, Pippa is not doing boundaround for breakfast, he mustn't be well'.

I have to hand it to her, that on occasions, she can be quite bright.

Eventually, I staggered off my sofa and ate my brekkies. It was ok, nothing wrong with it, but I didn't feel well. I left a few bits just to show how poorly I felt.

'The last time Pippa was so poorly was when he had the nasty tick thing,' she said.

Gently she felt my beautiful snose.

'I think there may be cat claw in there,' she said. Not that she had a clue how to get it out.

Clever Master wandered over and fixed it. Pulled out the nasty offending piece of C.A.T.

And then by lunchtime, I was doing boundaround again.

Pawly me, actually not so pawly here, on a toast hunt I think


Now, Misery wrote about Andalucían day on her blog so I want to write about it too.

It is the annual day to celebrate our communidad in Spain, by which I mean, my communidad, seeing as I am Spanish.

And guess what? In my village, they decided to hold a race and bring it past my gate so that I could watch it. I must be a very important Pippadog.



But it was tiring watching all that running. So I went to sleep.



What else happened while I was in Spain? Oh yes. They cut a tree down because it was pushing the wall out. It fell on my spinach patch.

What is going on?


Can't say I was impressed with that. So I got it moved.

Keeping an eye on this - from my spinach patch


And another thing. When I google my blog name, why is it linked to porn sites? Huh? I am not interested in porn, and I don't like my blog being associated with it. Horrid people, stop using my very nice blog for your very nasty purposes. I do not like porn, just like people abused me as a dog, I think it is abusive to women. But how do I stop being linked to such garbage?

Attacked

There I was, peaceably taking Master for a walk at lunchtime or thereabouts when I was attacked!!

We were wandering leisurely up the hill, to turn around at the middle gates and go back home for my Lunch! or Master's lunch, or somebody's lunch. But this horrid spitting, hissing, swirling thing threw itself at me and thought I would be lunch.

No. Pippadog is not luncheon meat. Even on a lead. What is a dog to do? Oh it was a C.A.T. by the way. All C.A.T.s may wish to skip a few paragraphs here ...

Anyway, I grabbed hold of it and chomped. Chomp, chomp, went the Pippajaws (note to Misery, if you groom me any more, you too, will feel the Pippajaws) but the huge pest was clinging to my snose. My beautiful snose.

Master told it to go away. That was pretty useless and he realised it. Luckily he carries a stick to ward off wild animals, wild dogs, wild cats and wild people. So he pushed the cat off my snose with his stick. He may have also hit it a tiny little bit.

What else was he going to do? Feral cat, no doubt fed by well-meaning people, attacks innocent dog. Without the tiniest bit of provocation. I am the first to admit that a good cat chase is often in order, but this was totally unreasonable. Master did not want to see me with my eye taken out, or lots of claws stuck in my face, so he stuck up for me. Or sticked up for me.

Well, then we went back home and kind Nurse Misery looked after me. I must say that one of her better traits is looking after poorly doggies. She put some yellow stuff on my snose and said nice things to me. There are times when I love Misery, even if she does paint me yellow.

One side


And another


A close-up


My paw. For a change. Investigating outside my gate.


Wrecking Checking out my spinach patch again. Note the yellow snose still.

A new surprise

It seems there is a new breakfast around.

It is called scrambled eggs on toast. Or with bread. And butter. Either way, I think it is appropriate for a Pippadog.

They have scoffed this for the last few days. The only thing wrong is that while I may have got some bread or some toast, I don't seem to have had any of those nice eggies. Why not?

Please Misery.....


Please Master.....


Saussies used to be for breakfast but now they seem to go in casserole. I want that too..


Glare. WHERE IS MY SCRAMBLED EGG ON TOAST?


I think I will go to sleep

Fundamental flaw

I have a plan for my days.

Normally this involves getting up to go and wake master. I have learned that 4am is not acceptable.

In Gib anything after 5am seems ok so I usually aim for 5.30am. Spain however seems to be a land of later risers so I add an hour on before I start the Pippalarm.

I run in and out of their bedroom. This is fun. Sometimes they play at dead lions and don't move or talk but I know they are really awake.

Misery will call me and say 'Hello Pippa' so I ignore her. That is fun too. As only master and I go out first thing I consider her not to be worth bothering with.

But when I come back in - it is of course, Breakfast Time! - and she gets my full attention then. If Misery is still in the big bed in Spain I will stick my head around the door, glance briefly in her direction, haroo quietly, and stare meaningfully at the sack of my biscuits. For some strange reason they live on top of the wardrobe.

In Gibflat she is usually up by breakfast time so I go to lie by the cupboard where they live. Another strange out-of-reach place. Myself, I would put them next to my table-dens.

Then I have my second and third breakfasts, ie we share theirs.

Second breakfast with master - toast time!!





Next I like to bound out to my gate (Spain) or bound onto my sofa (Gib).

Gate time.




The morning is spent busily watching the street or guarding the flat with a few changes of position for variety.

We have a walk at lunchtime and then we come back for - Lunch! The afternoon is pretty much a repeat of the morning, and there is another walk before bedtime. There are probably one or more walks that I have missed but as they are not linked to food or bed, they are not so important.

Now, here is the point of my post. Where in my plan do I mention grooming? Quite right, I didn't.

Grooming is for monkeys I think, and I am not a monkey. Gratuitous pix of monkeys grooming each other.





If I want to groom myself, I can contort myself into an interesting doga position and then have a good scratch, scattering lots of pretty fluffy Pippafur all over. What I do not want, is for Misery to pounce when she sees a tiny piece of tuggable fur just waiting to gracefully fall out. It does not need help. Similarly, I certainly do not want her to grab a comb and attack me in order to get shedloads of fur from me. That was a joke, by the way. Shedloads and shedding. Hmm, need to work on these jokes I think. But you all have to laugh because Ammy said so. So even though it's not too funny I expect a little teeny smile - for Ammy, because she said she wanted us to smile and be happy.

Where was I? Oh yes, complaining about Misery, and her antics with a comb. Do I comb her messy fur? No, I don't - and it seems to me she doesn't comb it either very often. So there is no reason to comb mine. At all.

Thank you Misery, please take note. Forthwith grooming is a thing of the past. For me any way. Seems to be a thing of the past for you too, looking at your fur. Anyway this blog is about ME!

Now, I was going to end there - but I have something unbelievable to share!! Can you believe there are dogs? on Facebook? Really, Misery tells me it is true. They have signed on with names and surnames and proper birthdays and write just like people. I can't believe it myself. What sort of dog would do that? Some of them (no dognames mentioned) even play silly games like F***V****.

Who could imagine dogs would be so clever as to type on keyboards, set up accounts, and come up with witty posts on FB and chat with other doggies, and, oh! it's rather like writing a blog isn't it?? Anyway, all you naughty little doggies who are on FB (not me! oh no! not innocent little Pippita!!) you should abandon your accounts right now, 'fess up, quit your doggie farms, and as punishment - no more toast/pizza for at least a week, no more chasing catz, and go and lie in the corner for being so utterly naughty and putting the state of the universe in peril. Well, I think that was what Misery said.

And even more interesting - and slightly in advance, but I just can't wait. Happy Valentine's Day to all my beautiful gorgeous girlfriends, those of you who are still interested in me - and to those of you who aren't as well. Pippa xx PippaNOTaFacebookdog (much).

A few answers

First up - a response to some of the questions from my commenters.

Inquisitive WFTs the handsome Floridians J&JH want to know how I am doing, as did the gorgeous husky Op Pack, and M&B sent their good wishes for my health too.

So, the tablets have finished which is a shame in a way as I was getting extra tasties before my breakfast to - supposedly - disguise the tabs. But Misery had the bright idea of adding slices to my food anyway even when the tabs were finished. Kind Misery.

But for some reason I seemed to develop a nasty sore at the top of one of my back legs and tried to yank out my fur around it. Master and Misery put some anti-septic spray on it and yes - promptly drove me back to nice Pedro.

He cut off my fur, sprayed the icky bit, and then rubbed some cream on. He gave Misery the spray, and sent her off to the pharmacist with a prescription for a small tube of ointment. It is drying up now I think, but I have included some pix of it looking nasty. And of me looking nice of course.





Pedro said I was looking better and had put on some weight, so he seemed pleased with my progress. I will have a blood test in a few months time and see if those nasty e-things are gone.

Quick reply to JB - seems HULA operatives can be any breed. Or, gasp!!! even - CATZ!! So go for it. But you have to provide evidence that you fulfil the criteria. I bet you don't. I ask you, CATZ get everywhere!

Now Randi asked if I got her holiday card. Well, I hadn't when she asked but it arrived only the next day. What a coincidence. And in the same week, I had received a card from JB and her feline family, and the last one to arrive the other day was a wonderful one of Santa Umbrella in Florida from Jake and Just Harry. That was two cards in one as it had a pic of them inside it too.

Now, I have a theory. I think that cards posted to me from America go to Gibraltar in America. Gibraltar is in Michigan on the Detroit river, I didn't know any of that. But I think my cards go there first and then when there is no Pippadog in Gibraltar MI, they get sent on to me in Gibraltar, Gibraltar. If any of my pals want to send me cards again, perhaps they should add two Gibraltars to my address.

Misery did not print any cards this year so I did not send any. But I would like to thank the friends I have mentioned above for thinking of me and remembering me, (Misery and Master too) and those friends who sent cards that arrived earlier.

Hola Pippa - Hula Pippa

Off we went in my Landy to my Spanish finca. As we approached the frontera (frontier), Misery turned round to ask me: 'Do you think your nice Guardia Civil friends will want to say hello?'

'Of course,' I answered. 'They always do.' This has nothing to do with the fact that there are no windows for them to see what we have in the back of the Landy, it is because they want to say hello to me, Pippa.

But as we were going through the frontier, no-one seemed interested in us. They were looking at a Spanish car, and two vans. Then! Just as we were about to go through without greetings, a Guardia Civil officer said 'Hola!'

Master promptly stopped. He jumped out of our Landy (his seatbelt was undone waiting for the call to say hello to me) and walked around to the rear. I was very excited and jumped towards the rear door.

'Abre abajo' said the officer. Master opened my door.

"Hola!"


'Eeeeek!!!!' said the officer, or something similar in Spanish.

She jumped back ten yards. Why didn't she want to say Hola! to me and stroke me?

Then she told master to close the door and to go. She didn't seem to want to look for tobacco or alcohol or whatever they seem to want to find that we never have anyway.

Poor sad Pippa. Most of them say Hola! and give me a pat. It's not as though I am a frightening sort of a dog. Even if one did once call me a leon, or a tigre or something like that.

"Hello friends, where are you?"


Now I have some other wonderful news. My secret operations as an undercover HULA operative can finally be disclosed as I am retired.

I am so proud to have my certificate. Of course Misery didn't complete my application correctly so I thought I should add a few comments. Well, maybe not today. Another day ...

Disguises and invasion

Master thinks I am stupid. Every morning he feeds me my tablets disguised in something tasty in a bid to get me to eat them. He thinks I haven't noticed.

Waiting - and watching


One morning I chucked one out on the floor and thought I had got away with not eating it, but he spotted it and gave me it again. He even kept my mouth closed and stroked my throat to make sure I swallowed it. What I have to put up with!

Here is a list of tasties that I have been fed before my main breakfast as supposed tablet hiders:

orange
seitan
tempeh
pasta
runner beans (master thought these were very clever as he could pop the tablet inside the split bean)
cooked (dried) beans
carrot

I nearly got pineapple but Greedy Mistress was too busy getting it down her neck for it to become a tablet disguiser. Just as well she gave me a few pieces anyway.

But my very favourite is beef slices. Actually they are not beef at all, they are some veggie slices that Master and Misery eat, called beef style slices.

Master cuts one slice into three and wraps a tablet inside each one. I tell you I would eat twenty tablets every morning to get more of this yummy stuff. It does not touch the sides I gobble it down so fast.

Yummy slices


Lip-licking yummy in fact


More, more, I want more


Thank you to all my FB pals who wished me a happy barkday. Trouble is Misery has forgotten when it was, just that it was Jan 2004 when I found them, so she picked an arbitrary date. I have made her look it up on my blog from years back. It is the 14 January. I wonder if I will get to celebrate two got-them-days this year?

Now, I have a very bad piece of news to impart. My sofa has been - INVADED!! Master and Misery claim they have been poorly. Have they got tick disease and are they taking millions of tablets? No, therefore they are not remotely poorly IMDO.

But nevertheless, first Misery invaded it for a little nap claiming she was tired and poorly - and then look at this. Master was on there all afternoon. I kept walking up to him glaring - waiting for him to jump off - but he just kept snoring away.

Zzzzzzzzz


A dog's sofa is his very own personal space, only to be occasionally and very generously shared if someone is sitting next to him with food. Otherwise - paws off.

Now normally, like most pups, I keep my tail tidily curled round myself when I am asleep. But after the recent surprise invasion - I have decided to stretch right out, and that includes my tail taking up the final third of the sofa. Perhaps they will get the message.

Mine, I tell you, all mine

Poorly Pippa

Happy New Year everypup. I hope you all had lovely holidays or howlidays if that is how you bark. Not that I ever bark, apart from when it is breakfast time, but it is always more of a Ha-Roooooo than anything else. Today it was a Haroo followed by a RUFF!

Now I like to do a review of the past year. Misery does one on her blog so I should get to do one as well I think. But as I've not posted much this year there is nothing to review. Sad Pippadog.

Instead I shall tell you about my poorlinesses. I didn't tell you when I was very poorly, but I am feeling better enough now to say a little bit. But not much, Misery can write vast boring reams about it on her blog for anyone interested in techy detail. Or in this case, ticky detail. Haha!! I hope Ammy likes my joke.

Last month I was feeling a bit listless, but one day, I really couldn't be bothered to go anywhere. I didn't even want to go down the stairs to go out in the mornings. Not even to chase cats.

Poorly me on my sofa


Master and Misery were so concerned that she even got out of bed early, and they bundled me into my Land Rover before 8am and we shot off to see my nice vet, Pedro. I had only seen him the previous week for my jabs and I seemed ok then.

Pedro gently felt me, and said I had some pain. Clever Pedro. While I was lying on the floor with my head flopped in Master's hands, Pedro and his assistant took some blood from my front paw (just like Skye had at her vet's), and then they cut some of my toenails.

We had to go back in a couple of days time for the results of the blood test but in the meantime, Pedro gave Misery some painkillers for me. Previcox. I can recommend those to everypup. They are chewy and taste of caramel and smoke.

My cocktail cabinet


When we went back to see Pedro I was already feeling a bit better, but he gave me some more painkillers, and some new tablets. I wasn't very keen on those, they don't taste nice. They were called doxycyclin. He hadn't got all the test results through but he told Misery I needed one of each every day. A couple of days later he emailed us and said that the test for erlichia canis was positive. I had very high readings of this and Misery had to double the dose of the little yellow doxycyclin tablets for me.

I have erlichiosis. It is a nasty tick disease. I will say no more except that I am still eating those nasty tablets for the next few weeks to try and get rid of the horrid organism and its effects. I will let you know when Misery writes about it, and you can read all the ticky detail then.

Not having my photo taken. Don't like nasty tablets


Here is something more interesting. We all went geocatzing to Comares before I was poorly. Master and I decided to admire the view while Mistress was sent off to hunt for the geocache. Master thought there might be catz near the castle so that's why we didn't go. I must say that puzzled me, I thought the whole point of these expeditions was to find catz. Geocatz or otherwise.

Here I am standing and thoughtfully sending out radar to detect nearby catz


Yes! I found one. I would have had him too but Master didn't want to go diving under the car with me. So we set off back for my Landy to avoid anymore catz. But on the way down, I found another one and nearly had him too. Mistress didn't find her cache. I found two catz but didn't get them. I think my expedition was the most successful though.

[They went back on New Year's Day without me and found the real cache. Master did anyway, Misery was her usual useless self. She reported back that there were no catz around - huh, a likely tale]

Back in Gib again and feeling better after my tabs.

One of my nice Christmas cards with doggies on


Looking for my friends - the monkeys

My corner

Let's be clear. This is my corner. Not my only corner because all corners are mine. But when I bark my corner, I mean mine, not someone else's.

Someone who is trying to grow spinach. And do I care about that? No.

So it is not important if I lie on, or at the very least, put my delicate little patitas all over the spinach bed.