Well, you all know who by now.

Okay.  I have had a rethink.  I seriously don’t want to be horrible to this rotten little shit .because I love him

xcuesez mois.  That was a passing abberation..  I seriously did not mean that.  I don’t even like him.  Que?

So I kick him out into the garden at 9pm and again at 8am.  This seems to be working, probably by sensible common bleeding sense.  Oh Really..  This isn’t going to work long term.  Even I can see that.  I might not feel like getting up at 8am tomorrow.  I am knocking on a bit now, so fuck that one.  So The Little Shit is quite likely to piss on the floor.  And who could possibly blame him.

Something has gone terribly wrong here, but I don’t know what.  I have always owned Dogs who behaved like ordinary human beings, or ordinary human babies.  And they didn’t piss on the floor either.  Did this have something to do with it?  I told the children not to pee on the floor. Okay.  That worked.

So I have been having a think.  This is always a bad one when it comes anything even remotely underaged.  And I must say that I stopped at three.  Children, I mean.  Well, I didn’t want any of them to be lonely.  Unfortunately they all hate each other. But there you go.  And I can’t say that any of them like me all that much either.  Tough shit.  For them I mean.  I love them all to bits, and the rotten little shit as well.

So what should I do for O’Connor.  Poor little lonely horrible little soul.  I have got to get him a pal.  Definitely not female.  I can’t cope with selling puppies, I don’t care how much they are worth.  It tares my heart to pieces to sell them.  And no way am I having any dog sterilised.  This is never good, at least for me.

So Two Fucking Horrible Male Dachshunds are now on the cards.  As if one wasn’t enough.  I think I might have lost the plot.  In fact I might have gone completely mad.  I’ll let you know.

Maureen Eccles Lang.  Eleanor Mitchell as was.

 

 

Half Winter.

Okay.  I have had enough of The Rotten Little Swine pissing on the floor because it’s a bit wet and a bit dark out there.

I shall now proceed to put his nose into it.   I heard of this solution a long time ago, but couldn’t quite see the point,  and never actually had to.   All of my other dogs pissed in the garden.

But enough is enough.  He seriously doesn’t understand.  And I feel for him, poor little soul.

From now on, every time he pees in the house he is going to get his nose stuffed into it, no matter how many hours ago he actually peed.

One tends to think that if you didn’t actually catch them at it then it is too late, but don’t you believe it.  O’Conner is about to get a nasty lesson  of, No, I am not having this.  Pee still smells the same, even after several hours.

I am really sorry about this.  I love the rotten little horror story half to death, but something has got to give.  I honestly don’t want o rub his nose in pee, but I can’t think of anything else to do.