Dog’s Abuse
Sonny (right) and the reason I got my own dog, Oscar (left)
who belongs to my mates
As regular Misssives readers will know, I am a novice dog owner.
The object of my dogged affection is seven month old Sonny, (aka, “The Black Menace”). I love him. But I love him the way Peggy Mitchell loved them Mitchell sons of hers in “Eastenders”. Dogs can sometimes be hard to love. They are sometimes a bit too doggy and do dreadfully doggy things.
I love that boy despite the fact that at Christmas he chewed through the straps of my treasured Cath Kidston cowboy weekend bag.
I still love him despite the fact that just this morning he chewed the corner of my favourite Marimekko scarf that I brought back from yer actual Finland (home of the Marimekko loveliness) WHILST I WAS STILL WEARING IT.
Expensive tastes….I think. Grrrr!
Despite all the transgressions and the occasional and brief urge to take him back to the shop for a refund, I remain resolute: that dog is the making of the Flying Martinis. And anyone who don’t like my dog, can get tae Falkirk.
Which brings me onto a little annoyance that happened this week.
Sonny was present at a little birthday party. He likes a chocolate finger as much as any kid would at a birthday tea. He likes to loiter with intent around the table offering birthday treats. He also likes to hopefully cruise by those with opposable thumbs who may be in possession of…. or even better, offer him a birthday treat. It’s a shame he isn’t allowed birthday treats but he lives in hope. Who can blame him?
What neither me or the dog was expecting was that one of the adult party guests would slap him sharply on the snout whenever he approached the table. This happened about four or five times. Oh and this was neither the birthday boy or the owner of the table. Not that being either of these people would have excused this behaviour.
I don’t hit my dog. It’s wrong. I believe you should not hit dogs anymore than you should hit children. A dog that has been hit is a dog that is more likely to bite in the future. I was very angry.
But I said nothing. I just tried to control him and keep him away from the dog abuser.
I don’t know why I didn’t wade in and tell him to keep his hands to himself. Not my style, I suppose: but I should have. I found out later that, after the last slapping, my sister had stepped in and done the job for me. And I thank her for that.
So I am annoyed on two counts; first at the bloke who hit my dog. But far more I am pissed off at myself. Why didn’t I take him to task?
I need to be more like my wee sister.
Sometimes you need to sweep social niceties aside and stand up for yourself (and your delinquent pup).
And also isn’t it the way it always goes, in the same way childless people tut and tell you how to control your children, that folk who know sweet FA about dogs always seem to know best when it comes to training a dog?
This is going to run and run. For about 14 years, I reckon.
Rage Against the Machine…Misssy style
I hate the word “mandatory” almost as much as I hate the word “more-ish” (and that’s a lot and another blog entirely).
One of the supreme joys of no longer being in an educational establishment for my daily bread, is that I don’t have the obligation to attend “Mandatory Courses”.
The list of these bore-fests was a long one and new recruits were meant to do them all within their first year of employment. I tried to avoid almost every one and I was actually quite good at it. Six years on, I hadn’t completed the list. Result! I didn’t do Disability or Race Relations and guess what, I didn’t upset any one with a disability or of a race different to my own! What are the chances? Could I be a natural?
I actually tried straight off to cut down on my list of college-led Mandatory Courses by pleading exemption with the Personal Development Office. Having just come from a previous workplace that was anxious to obtain their “Investors in People” status (load of old cock), I had already done the MANDATORY list of;
- Dealing with Disability (despite the fact the old boss shared Hitler’s view on that particular issue)
- Sexual Harrassment in the Workplace (Ha! Have you read the blog about my old boss?)
- Time Management (during which I stressed about meeting deadlines due to having to attend mandatory courses)
- Fire and Safety ( I got to let off a fire extinguisher , woo-hoo!)
- Manual handling ( I don’t DO lifting, I have students/runners, darling)
- Teambuilding (something to do with being stranded on the moon, I dunno)
However, the college were unimpressed. I had to do them all again, so that tickity boxes could be ticketied. And of course, this being a college there was about twenty other bollocks courses that I had to add to the list. Including:
- Working with Bubblewrap and Sellotape
- Child Protection Despite the Fact You Don’t Work With Children
- Falling Over By Mistake and Not Suing the College
- Teaching and Assessment the Hard Way
- Classroom Management without Weapons
- Being Ridiculously Politically Correct
- Toadying to Visiting Politicians in the College Environs
- Obliterating Any Chance of Enjoyment or Learning Through Health and Safety
- Stress Management Through Repression and Not Moaning about Stuff
- Going Outside Safely
And…the absolute corker of:
- Drug Awareness.
It is on the Drug Awareness Course that I will be blogging next. Bring sandwiches.
