Gyppo to boyo

Bobbi practicing for his dashes down the wing for the Welsh rugby team. Move over Shane Williams.

Bye Bye Mooli and Bobby

Life seems very strange at the moment. Firstly Mooli, who arrived in December, has flown the nest, his owner picking him up on Monday evening. On Tuesday mornings walk Judy was counting her four charges, Rocco, Bobbi, Mora, Bella and Mooli. Yes, he was back - temporarily deserting his owner to join-up with the pack on Barnes Common once again. Judy was more than a little surprised.

The unsettling feeling is more pronounced by Bobby’s absence. We heard a couple of days ago that a lady in Wales had seen him on the All Dogs Matter website wanted to adopt him. All we knew of her was she has a lady lurcher of her own and likes running on beaches. We were unsettled in that we knew so little about her but Mary the person re-homing Bobbi reassured us that she would provide a good home. On Tuesday afternoon Mary turned-up, she was impressively middle class and drove an impressive Jaguar.  She told us more about Bobbi’s potential new owner who is in her 60’s but has a son living with her in the countryside. We said that if things did not work out we would have Bobbi back.

We packed Bobbi’s many coats and possessions into the boot of the jag, he hopped onto the leather back seat and with a typical dog’s disregard for saying good-bye, he was gone.

Several times over the past five months he stayed with us, we nearly said OK we would adopt him. What stopped us was Rocco’s status as top dog in our household. He is now 11 and undoubtedly the boss on our walks. However when Bobbi and he race into our garden at dusk, Bobbi made it clear that he should be top dog in the chasing cats out of our garden etc department.

 We have trained Bobbi out of a few of his bad habits but the one he never managed to break was his desire for a dash in the garden between three and four in the morning. His agitation to go out got more vocal the nearer he got to the garden door. One had to hold his collar once the door opened to stop a mad fit of triumphant barking before letting him go. We thought that he might have some kind of bladder infection so I made an appointment at the vets. The vet’s nurse gave me a tiny bottle to collect a urine sample, it had a little yellow dish-like thing to help collect the pee.

If I had little enthusiasm for the sample collecting, Bobbi had none. He found my attempts as beyond embarrassment, his cooperation less than zero. I fancy Rocco enjoyed watching. I began to think that I would have to provide the sample - but the vet might be surprised by its alcohol level. Eventually on the walk before the vet visit I kept him on the lead, walking close. Eventually Bobbi lifted the rear leg furthest from me and I lent over him and I got the sample. The vet checked Bobbi and disappeared off to the basement to analyse the sample. He returned to say there was nothing wrong with Bobbi’s bladder. So he has gone to Wales with a clean bill of health and a hearty distrust of sample collectors.