the story so far

The arrival of Mrs Bitey into my life last year was, unsurprisingly, a big change. I’d gone from being a totally free agent to having a small but demanding terrier to walk, care for and generally factor into all of my plans.

Being accident prone and a tad hypomanic, Mrs B has had an eventful year with me. If the local vet ran an airmiles promotion, we’d be half way around the world by now. My dwindling finances have, well, dwindled. My car is coated in paw prints and white fur. My bed periodically has chewy bones dumped in it. My preferred fashion items are walking boots, woolly hats and a waterproof coat. The only labels I wear these days are drip dry. I now own a torch, a national trust membership and a walking pole. My clothes have dog hairs on them and I smell vaguely of dog.

In short, I have turned into a mad dogwoman.

However, the investments, compromises and dustings of dog hairs have reaped rewards beyond my wildest imagination. Having Mrs Bitey has opened my eyes to the world around me and for the first time in ages, I feel content and complete. If there are more heartwarming sights than a mad terrier charging around loving every nanosecond of life, then I’ve yet to see it. The early morning walks when the rest of London is only just waking up to scratch its arse. The cold crisp mornings when the air is so cold that it’s like breathing in razor blades but is so oddly reviving and restorative. Seeing familiar places through new eyes and enjoying the small stuff that I used to take for granted.

Watching a small furry thing who’s world centres around chasing after a ball, eating, sleeping and cuddling really is a great leveller.

the first post

So here we are at the popping of my blogging cherry. I’ve never done this before and am not sure why I am doing so now. Maybe it is cathartic, maybe an attempt to seek fame or infamy, maybe just using the opportunity to self publish boring monologues. Who knows and who cares?

Enough preamble. Let us begin by setting the scene.

I am the owner of Mrs Bitey a small naughty and loveable Jack Russell terrier and like many fellow dog owners dote on her doggy charms and character like a new parent. And I am also an avid people watcher. The daily trips to the local doggy park fulfil both needs.

The following tales are based in and around the local recreational ground, universally known as the Dog Park which is situated in an affluent and insular suburb of West London.

Near to the dog park is the Snob School, a minor league private school with major league pretentions. Weekday morning dog park trips often coincide with the school run which is made up of a cavalcade of Executive German Saloons and Chelsea Tractors parking badly outside the Dog Park. This event is collectively known as the Snob Convoy.

Various characters and their dogs will star in the blog at appropriate moments. There are regulars who you will encounter through this blog frequently. There are other minor characters who have no notable features other than a propensity to wear the same clothes (Mulberry or Boden), have the same dogs (spaniels, chocolate Labradors, assorted unusual pedigree breeds) and all look and sound the same. These will be known collectively as Boden Clones as they attend infrequently and/or I have not bothered to find out who they are.

One of the perils of the dog fraternity is that people are known by their dog’s name rather than their own. This blog is no exception although I have attempted to distinguish between regulars by assigning them a name. All human and canine names have been changed.