Charlie Chorizo – sausage of love.

FtkyaAgRNTW_3bOnoSS5Z_0UQCIwifEn5T_Cl3ZPcgECharlie Chorizo has arrived. A sausage dog. The sausage dog. The ruler of our days. And nights.

Some may think it a little early after the demise of our dear old souls who were wafted off to doggy heaven just few weeks ago. But me without a dog is like Judith Chalmers without a passport, like Russell Brand without a lascivious look in his eye. Even as a child, a student, a scurrilous traveller I have never been without the companionship of a quadroped. In addition I have never had a pedigree chum. Ever. They have aye been scrappy wee unloved individuals from cat & dog homes, the side of the road, a drain, Battersea, Aberdeen, Edinburgh so at this stage in life as I intend to travel by car a lot all round the world I have employed the services of a wirehaired mini dachshund to be my faithful sidecar rider. I need a compact bijou pal and so I thought I will wait until next year before I take the plunge.

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Fate took over as that very day I met a hairy wee scruff called Snook in Aberdeen a stoating wee dog. The next question was where did he come from? The answer was the name of a breeder who I phoned several times and had no answer. Then last Sunday she picked up.

We talked.
“I have one 9 week old “ she said.

“I want a bitch” I replied. Birds of a feather and all that.

“Daxy boys aren’t like normal dogs “she said “they are very loyal and affectionate – more so than the girls.”
Sceptical I asked her to send me a photo.

She did.

On impact of course the heart began to beat a little faster.

A little chocolate drop. Tiny.

“Let’s will drive over and see him and have a chat.” I said to the long suffering husband.

“Of course if we go we will end up with him” he said rolling his eyeballs.

“Not necessarily” I said sounding as convincing as I could.

So we arrived into the home of 14 daxys. They were barking and jumping and squirming. “Quiet” the breeder shouted and they all stood silent watching us with their raisin like direct stares. “Lets hope they don’t turn on us” I whispered under my breath to the LSH who unlike me has not been in the company of the dog breeder madness that we were witnessing. The fact is if I wasn’t married I would like have at least 14 dogs and a few pigs but I chose not to impart that information at this particular moment.
“That’s the Dad” Elizabeth the breeder said pointing at this titian haired beezer. “He’s French”.

Now I am no dog show judge but he was a noble hairy faced wee man.

“That’s the Mum” she said showing me a hairy wee thing amongst the other yappers.

And there’s the pups she said pointing to the corner of the room where a small pen held two leaping pups.
One dog. One bitch. One heart lost. Mine.

CC Snuggle

I picked him up. He’s so tiny. And he’s not got any wire hair.

“His fixings are coming in” she said pointing out the small moustache that was growing under each eye. He was a wee bit shy unlike the girl who was running up the leg of my trousers and pushing him out of the way.

We talked about it and as Dave and I looked at each other we knew.

We would like to take him home.

And so…the new adventure begins with Charlie Chorizo Sausage Dog. He is so small if we cut the end of a sock he could wear it as a coat. That’s what I am going to do as he not over endowed with hair yet and clearly the Scottish winter is a hell of a time to arrive in the world. I will write about him again and display my new sock invention coat….but for now……he is sitting on my foot, demanding he is picked up for a cuddle. Hell someone’s got to it. Swoon.

Heartbreak on 8 legs.

Desperate sadness surrounds this blog post and the person writing it.

My dear hairy friends, stalwart supporters, companions through thick and thin are no longer on this mortal coil.

Flora half haggis half womble and Sam nice but dim Labrador are gone.


P1080799Ever get the impression you're being watched?

The knowledge of adopting and loving and animal is one thing but the acceptance that to be their very best friend right to the end is the hardest thing a person has to do.

So as Floras eyes failed, her hearing went, her teeth became but a distant memory her joie de vivre ebbed away and was replaced by a look of uncertainty and fear.

Sam our delicious chunky lumpy Labradors wee back legs refused to do what she wanted them too. She slipped and fell, even a few stairs became an Everest like challenge and so she took to her bed with an expression on her face that still registered love but also one of deep unhappiness.

Their days of barking, wagging, running chasing a ball, chewing socks, jumping up to greet you, snuggling up on your feet under the table to snore had gone. But what a decision to have to make.

During the hard times they would rest their knowing heads on our knees and gaze into our eyes with a sense of empathy and peace that gave great comfort.

As part of the all encompassing lives we had together it was a decision with the help of our lovely vet Victor that was heartbreaking to make and yet the time had come.

THey had both reached the end of the road. One without the other would be Morcambe without Wise. French without Saunders. Little without Large. So fate decreed they were both at the same stage at the same time.

So Victor come round to the flat and they were cuddled and fed as they closed their eyes for the last time with no idea of what was happening.

So the house is empty. They are together forever.

Teenwolf at Unviersity.

Gulp.

So here we are ……………….what’s next?

IMG_0268 2011-08-14 16.11.35 P1080769 P1080171 P1080110 Flora phone P1070740 P1070220

 

Dog tired -the man not the dog.

As a follow up to my column in The Daily Record  about our dear old dog Sam…..

Here is the photo that sort of sums up her feelings when my dear long suffering husband flew back from Spain to Scotland psyching himself up to accompany her to the vet for the dreaded euthanasia.

You can read about the run up to this by clicking this link but sometimes pictures say so much more than words.

 

Image

Dogging

Now if you’ve visited this blog before you will know that I love beasts -all kinds but especially my dogs – the Hairies -my only coherent companions. Alas alack Alan-whatever that means-they are now aged crones. Flora deaf. Sammy demented and lumpy. Halitosis looms large yet I love them from the tip of their protruding brown teeth to the very tip of their balding wagging tails. SO this is the question. When to get a puppy?

 

Recently my heart sang as I was contacted through the blog by the person who adopted Flora -my half haggis half womble dogs  puppy from the dog home – and she is just like her ma. Here is the daughter.804247_591682787510427_52466419_n

And the Mum – my Flo.

Flora About To Savage the new addition - Wart Hog.

The first time ever seen together. Tear to a glass eye. Both from the cat and dog home and you can tell bursting with character. But Flo is 13 or 14. Every day at the moment I find my car driving towards the dog home but I pull over and give myself a talking to.  So I head home and  google a few rescue societies and then before I can pick up the phone or email them I snap the keyboard shut on my hand. Stop. No more dogs. Not now. It’s not fair. But when?

It is a known fact that when a man loses his wife he will remarry fast and it never ceases to get up my nose. As if its a one size fits all.  Ah you have a pulse, can boil an egg and don’t find me physically repellant will you be mine?  So in the dog world I will not and cannot trade them in fro a younger model. The mere thought of the look I would get if I wafted a silken haired wee pup under their noses as if I waiting for them to shuffle off this mortal coil brings a shudder.  For now it’s a no no.
But I have found a pic of the dog I would love I will post it tomorrow and see if you know anything about them…..but for now… I am being watched by the hounds of the Baskervilles so I must away or they will suspect foul play.

 

Hiatus….over….blogging recommences…April 2012

I started this blog two years ago. Phew. Two years eh?

I have posted over 476 times…and loved it..I am an obsessive writer after all and can’t stop. But what it made me realise is this…

Yes I blogged like a wild thing but what about the plan of applying my energy and time to writing my next book. Ah yes that.

So…I am giving Alison’s Diary The Blog a rest. I am taking it down. Letting it put it’s feet up and exhale a while as use my energy to create other things that will chart the next part of my rather unpredictable life.

So….for now dear reader of this blog …thank you for your support and a bientot.

You will spot me on The One Show on BBC 1 and hear me on BBC Radio Scotland …and I Tweet @AlisonCraigTwit…but if you do need to contact me please do so through these two wonderful women:

 

Mandy Ward mward@internationalartistes.com

and/or

Jackie Gill jackie@jackiegill.co.uk

Thanks !

With very best wishes until next time……..

Alison xx

West Lothian Council awards…

Great night was had by all. At the Howden Centre which is a lovely theatre in the heart of Livingston, 300 red velt seats in an intimate auditorium great atmosphere.
They have a Primark opening soon – and over 150 shops – a good idea for the Xmas shopping if you can’t face city traffic and throngs of folks puffing and panting in and out of the busy central shops.
Horse playing tonight….may just go bck.

Rosting, fun, lots of chat, saw this sign in the dressing room. Was a little worried my mum Pat knows nothing about electrics. Gawd help us.

Edinburgh babies go green!

New Mums!

A great place to head with your delightful bouncing babies and toddlers.

The Jack & Jill Market (Baby & Children’s Markets)
The Jack & Jill Market comes to The Edinburgh Academy to provide local
mums with an ongoing opportunity to recycle and make money selling
quality items they no longer use, and to save money buying quality-brand,
nearly-new items at less than retail price. Every nearly-new item bought
and sold reduces landfill and helps the important fight against climate
change.
A series of Jack & Jill Markets will be held at the Edinburgh Academy
throughout the year, the first one being held on Saturday, 5th February,
10.30am-1.30pm, in the Dining Hall. There will be over 20 stalls of
quality, nearly-new maternity, baby, and children’s items for 0-9 years –
clothes, toys, games, buggies, bikes, cots, high chairs, and much more.
For more details or to book a stall, phone Nicole Diamond on: 01721 725
879 or visit www.jackandjillmarket.co.uk

Supermoon will occur Saturday night -especially if Scotland win the rugby!

‘Supermoon’ Will Occur Saturday Night

CS - Full Moon Optical Illusion Gordon Gillet / ESO

On Saturday afternoon, the moon will be the closest it’s been to Earth in more than 18 years. The “supermoon,”as observers have dubbed it, will appear Saturday afternoon at 3 p.m. ET at a distance of 221,565 miles away. It will appear 14 percent larger and 30 percent brighter than your average full moon, weather permitting. The reason why the moon will be so much closer is due to a fluke of orbital mechanics. But don’t be alarmed: Although the supermoon will result in a dramatically large range of high and low ocean tides—which could result in flooding problems if combined with a coastal storm at the same time—it won’t cause a natural disaster.

Christmas does your head in? Well it did my back in.

Slumped Nellie my couch potato pal

So there we were Christmas Eve running about like dafties. The restaurants were open so tanking around getting stuff sorted for them, Mum arrived up for Christmas with her dog Nellie lurcher so I take on the mantel of entertainer, shopper and carrier of all goods, dogs, bags, food, boxes and bottles (of which there were many).

All’s well until 6pm I am sitting cross legged in the bedroom having commenced the wrapping of the stuff when my back  began to feel a little achy.

So as I bent a little , stretched a little reached for the sellotape – BANG I was down.

After lying for a couple of minutes I managed to roll onto my side and shout in a wholly pathetic voice ‘help’.

Bugger.

Down.

And Out.

I lay still until I as hoisted into bed where I lay cursing and sipping Lemsip – I like the taste it’s my paracetamol guilty pleasure and thought yeh yeh it’s sore but so what I will be fine tomorrow.

Christmas Day good morning. I can’t get up. I can’t move. I am bedded. After a couple of hours I am hoisted but feel awful and am reclined once again.

So Christmas Day the long suffering husband, teenwolf and Mum all jangled and sparkled as planned went off to friends for lunch as  I, the pathetic shark, lay prone by now on the couch with 3 dogs, a packet of painkillers and the remote control.

I started with A Christmas Carol and then watched It’s A Wonderful Life as I lay there alone, with texted photos of my family having a lovely festive lunch, playing charades and drinking I allowed myself a self indulgent snotter. As it took me 20 minutes to crawl to the loo for a pee and about 30 minutes to get back.

Things are a little better and yesterday I managed a temporary returnto vertical to go to a friends party for a couple of hours. The glamorous folks towered over me as I stood in the baggy black breeks, and flat boots with a gate that looked as though I had a wooden stake up my bum. The long suffering husband was dealing with the aftermath of a break-in at Howies so he gamely offered to collect mum and I in the car on his way back.

He did so at about 4pm. He came in, had a drink, said Merry Christmas to everyone and then announced he had to go as he as on a double yellow line.
God you’ve been on it for ages I said you’ll have a ticket.

I hope not he grinned.

When I went downstairs in the lift I saw a small gathering round the car window and I hurpled over to see what they were looking at. As you can see the sympathy in this house is well and truly over.