Coco has arrived!

Well, the puppy has arrived. After having been an exclusively feline household for many years, we have a chocolate labrador retriever. Called Coco.

This little brown bundle of feet and belly has come into the house and totally taken over. We have had to create a 'den' by fencing off part of the lounge, acquire masses of equipment I simply had no idea about and enrolled her in the local vet's puppy club for her vaccinations, microchipping and eventually, to be speyed.

I had no idea that puppies poo'd so much! At just shy of eight weeks old, she isn't yet house trained. She has a designated place within her den where she is supposed to do anything she needs to do, and sometimes she does. We try and take her out into the garden when she has eaten, had a sleep, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. She has treats when she performs appropriately, but so far she is having trouble getting the hang of it (particularly with where she should have a wee) and it is very difficult to identify the  signs that she needs to go. Apparently puppies do go frequently and when they are very small, as she is, they don't have any bladder control at all and when they need to go, they need to go NOW. So you don't get much warning to clip on the lead and take her out back. We have had several accidents, and I haven't cleared up so much poo in years.

It really is just like having a new baby and having to teach it the basics. I always hated potty training then, too. I suspect it will be several weeks before she really gets her head round it and by then, I will be questioning my decision to get her.

Sunday night was her first night away from her mum and siblings (there were seven in the litter) and she cried all night. We gave her a hot water bottle and a towel which we had rubbed all over her mum's back so she had a familiar smell close to her, and a ticking clock which sounded like a heart beat, but it didn't make any difference. She really does have a very piercing whine, punctuated by little high pitched barks. I sleep wearing ear plugs, so I wasn't too bothered, but The Hubby tells me she started at about 11.30pm and continued until he got up in the morning, starting up again when he went out for work. I bet the neighbours loved that, but at least it gets them back for all the times they have woken us up by yelling at each other all the time or when their own dog used to cry outside the house all day while they were out at work and had locked him in the garden.

The vet has suggested that we leave the radio on low as sometimes that can soothe a lonely puppy, so we'll try that tonight. I wonder if she is a Radio Four or Radio Two girl? But what I will not do is bring her upstairs with me; she has to learn that she is not the leader of the pack and cannot go where she wants just because she makes a fuss. Of course I don't want her to be distressed, but rules have to be established from the beginning. Similarly, she will not be allowed on the chairs.

Today, she has been to the vet and had her first vaccinations, been microchipped and had a worming tablet. I have flea treatments to give her in the next few days, and she has to go back in two weeks time for her second jabs. It's all go!

I have a feeling that my life will be significantly different from now on. Coco will dictate our timetable and lifestyle if we let her, although while she is a baby it is very difficult to do anything which doesn't allow us to meet her needs. She will help get us fitter by having to be walked, and most likely, once we get over the first few weeks, bring us an amazing amount of joy.

I'll let you know.

After the dentist, the vets!

It's an expensive month. As well as me probably having to go to the dentist, my four cats have to go to the vet this week.

Their annual jabs are due, and so I have to subject them to the torture of the basket, car, veterinary surgery and car again. Each and every one, they hate it!

They have learnt that as soon as they see that wicker basket come out of the loft hatch, something is going to happen to them which they won’t like. I have resorted to hiding the basket upstairs, shutting all the doors so they can’t get into the bedrooms to hide and locking their cat flap so they can’t leg it into the garden just to get them into it in the first place. I also book the appointment first thing in the morning, when they are almost always indoors and I can guarantee to catch them.

I always feel bad about doing this, even though I know it’s good for them and if I didn’t do it and they got ill not only would I feel incredibly guilty but it would cost me considerably more into the bargain. Two of them in particular cry like babies from the minute I put them into the car until we get to the vets, when they are struck dumb in sheer terror at the smell of dogs and other animals as well as that nasty sickly smell you always seem to get in veterinary surgeries (I’m spelling it in full each time just so as you know I can!). I think it must be the disinfectant, but it’s horrible. Then they endure the indignity of the needle, a thermometer stuck up their bum and a worming tablet stuck down their throat. I'm not surprised they don't like it!

For quite a while afterwards I am sent to Coventry. Each cat skulks off to its favourite chair or corner and regards me with baleful yellow eyes for the rest of the day, as though its life has been blighted for ever. I’m sure they only do it because they know that if I feel guilty enough, not only will they get Felix for tea but also a packet of cat treats instead of their usual Iams. Who says cats don’t know how to manipulate you?

My oldest girl is getting on a bit now, reaching the grand old age of 14 this April. She was bought as a tenth birthday present for my oldest daughter but resides with me. The next oldest is 12, whilst the youngsters are both ten. They all rub along together, although the 12 year old is a bit of a bully and can be treated as a pariah by the others when she has tried to rule the roost and been put firmly in her place by the oldest.

Not only does the oldest cat rule the others, they all rule us. They will sit and stare when you are sitting in their favourite place so intensely that I have been known to move because I felt so uncomfortable with their eyes on me. They demand their meals with monotonous regularity, and create loads of mess with their dirty paws and fur on a level that you wouldn’t tolerate from your children.

I love my cats to bits, and have always been a cat person ever since I was a small child. They have their little personalities and habits, and are a source of fun and enjoyment. They’re not as clever as dogs, being purely decorative, but those cute little furry faces make your heart melt when they rub up to you.

All in all, I wouldn’t have it any other way.