tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64993862500814417122024-03-13T12:49:59.396-07:00Troubles with CharlieJanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08632698257960940388noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499386250081441712.post-60072270779510216702011-03-05T04:33:00.000-08:002011-03-05T04:33:30.653-08:00Drying out....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyGqC5-pOB_RbsosIO6moTIGNRm09ms8-FPyqqpUCfL74an7-KwZOxbhc_a8WeXH-4wkam5HJQRTyEpknhBIQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Charlie hates being wet! Even when he has a drink he runs off to find a rug or some poor persons shoes to wipe his mouth dry. Unfortunately he has a passion for foxes mess and takes great pride in rubbing it all over himself. Showers are now nearly always a part of his daily routine.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08632698257960940388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499386250081441712.post-88059841635425272032011-03-04T14:23:00.000-08:002011-03-04T14:48:14.435-08:00The Park Keeper's Boots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPivkmqbehpNegGk0MpzVnfEYbuxCyGFrGq2viCqfl1sk_1JcIV1SQjEWnWDb4SEU6GmFrTjY6EaeOHx_MTE3Y_6s-NGYuHkiQTuOVAR9Ii3e48JrwsC7EGxTt52Zt9eGF7Uk9k_cQPE/s1600/093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPivkmqbehpNegGk0MpzVnfEYbuxCyGFrGq2viCqfl1sk_1JcIV1SQjEWnWDb4SEU6GmFrTjY6EaeOHx_MTE3Y_6s-NGYuHkiQTuOVAR9Ii3e48JrwsC7EGxTt52Zt9eGF7Uk9k_cQPE/s200/093.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Charlie doesn't wear a wristwatch. He doesn't listen to the time signals on radio 4. He just knows when it's 11.00 am.<br />
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I don't wear a watch either - the battery's gone - so I rely on Charlie to let me know the time. He doesn't need a battery, right on time he's pulling my slippers off and running around making a weird noise like an early contestant on the X Factor.<br />
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Muddy wellies on, ball and Frisbee in hand, a pocketful of yumyums, poo bags and he's off. Living next door to Wimbledon park is of course great!<br />
First stop is a muddy puddle for a drink, then he spots Pam the park's gardener who's busy fertilising the rose garden. He's off across the green like a greyhound and greets Pam with a wet kiss, wagging tail and muddy paws. He's rewarded with a yumyum (normally raw carrot) and she's rewarded with him peeing on her boots. Time to move on......he spots a friend, Honey the Golden Spaniel, also 18 months old and always up for a game of chase. Charlie soon leads her astray and takes her into the woods....ten minutes later they emerge. Honey now a Black Spaniel is caked in mud and they both smell like a swamp creatures after rolling around in fox poo. A swift goodbye is said and we are heading home for a much needed bath. Charlie is feeling very pleased with himself and I could swear he is smiling.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08632698257960940388noreply@blogger.com1