Saturday, 27 September 2008

Growing Pains


So the dog has entered puberty, we're delighted as you can imagine, delighted. To be fair (on me) I was expecting more warning, a kind of slow descent into puberty, a process if you will that gave us plenty of warning that Twizzle was All Grown Up and ready to fly the coup (oh if only he would). I expected at least an awkward period where he changed from bouncy, happy-to-see-you, grateful for a pat puppy to sulky, grumpy, hid in his kennel when he saw you coming, said whatever to any question asked however reasonable (would you like me to bury your bone for you darling? Whatever), a stint writing soulful, yearning poetry by the light of a torch and wearing black because it expressed his inner self. Next (my expectations went) would come the Embarrassed Period where his voice broke when he least expected it. One minute he's lolloping happily around the park trying out his poetry on any lady dog that came his way, the next he's trying to bark out the line my heart, black as pitch, alighted upon your sweet bosom, only for it to be delivered in a thin squeak followed by a croak. This is the bit where he stops communicating altogether and simply lives in his kennel eating entire loaves of bread and cultivating Stinky Feet Syndrome. He appears occasionally for walks but makes Husband walk at least one hundred yards behind him so as not to embarrass him in front of the lady Rottweiler he's got his eye on (he likes them big and beefy apparently, I found the magazines).
Did Twizzle supply me with any of this? Did he give me any warning at all - which would have been the courteous thing to do, I have after all cleaned up after him all his life in the manner of a chamber maid.
No.
One day he was that happy-go-lucky, tongue hanging out cuddly mop of a Spaniel, the next I came down to find that his best 'friend' is his dog pillow and he plans to spend as many amorous hours with it as possible and could I please leave his dinner outside the door? I have had to remove anything of humpable height into the garage, put cling film on the sofa and ban anyone watching Crufts because the ensuing mayhem is far too much to bear, and I fear for the poor pillow's life. The crunch came last week when I left Jack for one minute (one minute!) to return to see him exhausted and dishevelled as he attempted to outrun Twizzle's advances on his little one year old legs. It was time to call in the Rottweilers.
So I have begun taking Twizzle to the park more often, firstly because a bit of exercise may run off some of the urges, secondly because he may meet a Lady Dog and get a bit of social life going. I've upped his allowance so that he can treat on a date and generally kitted him out in fresh boxers (of the under wear kind unfortunately, not the canine kind, dog ladies of the night not being too abundant round here), and helped him gel his hair. He's started out quite well really, I'm proud of him, his chat up lines seem to go down well with the bum sniffing community and he's even had a few dates. He took the Greyhound from across the way for a drink last week, but she dumped him for drinking Babycham rather than a pint (I mean really, is that any reason to dump a fellow?). Two nights ago he scored big time with the love of his life the Rottweiler (called Stacey apparently, Stacey the Rottweiler)but a few days later, teary eyed and heartbroken he told me that she'd finished with him because his name was to effeminate. He sunk into his kennel and wrote lyrics about his lost love, begging for guitar lessons as he went because he'd finally found what he wanted to be (though with the musical genes he will have inherited I fear it is not to be).
So he's moping about the house, getting in everyone's way, eating the contents of the fridge and refusing to let me wash his bedding. He says it's all our fault for giving him the name Twizzle Sportacus (to be fair it's all Isla's fault really, but she is four and mad on Lazy Town, he's lucky she didn't call him Stephanie), and lamenting that in a rush of love he'd told Stacey the Rottweiler his middle name. He also says that we've ruined his life and that he hates us, jolly good, puberty moving on steadily then.
Anyway, he seems a lot cheerier this morning, more his old self. He went out on his own last night and found some kind of club called The Village People or something, I haven't really heard of it. He even tried out a new look of studded collar and tight white T shirt. I think he met someone too, he's being a little coy about it, but apparently no one at this club seemed to mind about his name and he came home with a few phone numbers, and there's definitely a spring in his step this morning. He even said that he felt more like himself than ever, which was cheering, and enjoys trying out new mustaches in the mirror. He even speaks to someone called Tiny regularly, I hope he brings her home to visit soon.

24 comments:

A Confused Take That Fan said...

Ha ha haha. Hilarious. Not sure how to tell you this...large gulp...I mean, I'm sure you already have your suspicions...but our friends dog Oscar saw him down the club and Tiny, is, erm, not a bitch...if you get what I mean...Looks like there's not gonna be any pups for you I'm afraid...

Jolly Good Yarn Girl said...

Ho ho you have confirmed that the nagging doubt about the decision to have our rabbit neutered last week is unfounded. I must say that he has calmed down considerably, no longer eats half a hundred weight of rabbit pelleted food and a ton of carrots a day, plus the little purple stitches in his now slightly shrivelled testicles (no I wasn't practising my quilting techniques) are all a jolly good sign!!! JGYG x

Nunhead Mum of One said...

Am laughing so much I've just spat my coffee all over the keyboard! Poor Twizzle, it's such a trying time for dogs of a certain age....when I went through it with Senior Dog and Middle Dog (Senior went from being cuddly to offhand and Middle objected to being called "sweetheart" in public) I wished I'd had a guide book.

Junior Dog hit puberty a while ago - he tried to hit on a poodle and got rebuffed. I've since seen him try and get some tips from the other two but Senior can't be bothered chasing women any more and Middle Dog spends much of his time laughing at Junior rather than helping him.

Mud in the City said...

Quite brilliant. Surely the threat of castration is enough to make him do the washing up occassionally though?

Millennium Housewife said...

Confused, I think I understand you, do you mean she's not bitchy? If so good, I'd like him to settle with someone stable..

Yarnie, you give me hope.

Nunhead, Husband is playing the part of Middle Dog

Mud, castration has been put on the calendar, his bedroom is tidy for the first time in months.

aims said...

Okay - ummmmm - erm....I just popped over here from Alcoholic Daze because of your lovely caring comments to her and look what I've found! OMG!

As long as he doesn't bring home a racoon you're probably going to be able to deal with it - right?

Millennium Housewife said...

aims, I think Millennium Housewife would be pleased whoever Twizzle bought home, she just needs to get her head out of the clouds and enter the real world!

Potty Mummy said...

And this is why we don't have a dog...(poor Jack...)

david mcmahon said...

I'm sure my own parents would have enjoyed this!

Wife in Hong Kong said...

Pity me, I have three sons. So are we going to get a dog? After reading this, definitely not!

rosiero said...

My dog, Snoopy, is entering the Victor Meldrew phase at the moment. He growls at other dogs when he meets them on our way round the block on the leash. In the park, he ignores any other dogs. If they try to sniff his derrière, he simply barks "I don't believe it" and trots in the opposite direction.

Sandi McBride said...

I'll be back as soon as I can stop laughing! (Thanking David, I needed that!) Congrats on your POTD mention...
Sandi

Carol said...

I came via David's authorblog.

This is hysterical! Wish we women could go through it like this!

Mom/Mum said...

Hilarious. But am now seeing the advantage of my hubs being allergic to dog fur..I think two boys going through puberty will be more than enough for this Mum/Mom to handle.

Ernest de Cugnac said...

they don't say it's a dog's life for nothing. And some say life's a bitch. Bloody hell.

Fat, frumpy and fifty... said...

I often wonder which needs the more care the dog or the kids, more money? the dog or kids? more feeding the dog or kids?? LOL
great start to the day..well done you!

Nota Bene said...

Puberty is the the first step on the road to leaving home I think....so you may want to keep an eye on that. Also, are you sure these bitches are good enough...you don't want him catching any nasties...

Millennium Housewife said...

PM, poor me...

David, direct them here!

Hong Kong, wise words, live vicariously through this blog instead.

Rosiero, ah looking forward to that stage

Sandi, thanks!

Carol, thankyou too!

M/M I could sure use a husband like that.

Earnest, quite....

FFF, at the moment the dog, definitely the dog

NB, another thing to worry about, cheers....

dulwichmum said...

No! I had no idea of any of this... I am horrified. I cannot bear to think of my sweet puppy cockapoo getting up to "grown-up" behaviour!

DM

nappy valley girl said...

Ah poor Twizzle - perhaps you could read him some helpful adolescent literature (such as Judy Blume or whatever the modern equivalent is) to work out his confused feelings?

david mcmahon said...

My kids ask me what I want to do when I grow up!!!!

CrazyCath said...

Oh my you have me laughing the dirtiest laughout loud and I made my husband listen to it as I read it to him! That is sooo funny.

Over from David's and so glad that he pointed you out. This is just hilarious.

Moannie said...

David's done it again.
Hilarious story.

Keep threatening mine with the snip but JP snaps his legs together and says 'no way Jose'

Akelamalu said...

Over from Authorblog to read this recommended post. I can understand why it was recommended it's hilarious! Poor Twizzle, it's not easy growing up. LOL