The Courier & Advertiser (Angus and Dundee)
Naughty Norfolk can stay... if he just keeps away from greenhouse plants
Hurrah, the joy is back in the heart of the house! There is a new Macnaughty in residence – and don’t we know it…
It is 12 years since a tiny Norfolk Terrier last terrorised an Armstrong Macgregor abode – and, rather like moving house, memories have long since faded. You forget what it’s like. There are the wee accidents – and yes, that is the right word to use. A chair leg is chewed, and a silk scarf is shredded. And all this before breakfast.
The bundle of energy that plays ‘catch me if you can’. The mischievous mite that chases round at dawn, as if to say, well, what are we doing now for a bit of fun?
The Norfolk Terrier has been called a big dog in a small package. Taking our new baby to the vet for his vaccination, I am tempted to ask if they have a cure for attitude.
Perhaps it is because he is not on home ground. Then none of our Norfolks has ever stepped foot in the marsh areas they call the Fenlands.
No, our beloved Rummie hailed from Perth. Whilst this new one was born in Cumbria. His name is Benbecula, by the way. It is following in the family tradition of naming dogs after Scottish islands.
He will be ‘Benny’ for short – and his arrival is having different effects on the other two.
The Chow has lost a bit of her laziness. She, too, is running riot and delighted to have a little playmate.
Yet the elderly Cocker Spaniel remains a grumpy old man. Growling and scowling at the noisy newcomer. All he asks for these days is a quiet life…
Because puppies are demanding creatures, we try not to take too much on.
And, as far as work goes, it is an easy week.
Some of the time my job can be done at home. But one day I must leave the house to sit in an edit suite and transcribe an interview from a recent film.
It is a lonely occupation. Pre-covid, the picture editor and I would work together.
These days it is a matter of producing my bit and sending the details for him to artistically piece together.
Like others in offices up and down the land, we are doing our bit, but we are doing it separately.
I return home. Only to be sorely tempted to get back in the car and go back to the calm of a different place.
Because, despite the chief being in charge, Benny has managed to start chewing his way through the hall carpet.
Naughty Norfolk that he is, he has found a loose thread and has worked out that if he keeps pulling, it makes for a great game.
Yet he runs towards me, fat, warm and jolly, and throws himself at my feet. What can you do?
Benny is now family and, as long as he stays well away from the greenhouse plants, he may be allowed to stay…
PUPPIES ARE SUCH DEMANDING CREATURES, SO WE TRY NOT TO TAKE TOO MUCH ON