Bad hair day

I heard of a book called ‘Do dogs need shrinks?’. As the author is himself an animal behaviourist (i.e. dog shrink), he makes the case that they do. I agree with him, as would anyone who knows Alfie. Alfie is a Shih Tzu and is officially crazy.
When his long hair was starting to become a hindrance we took him to a dog groomer as we’d had some trouble in trying to give him a haircut ourselves. He protested noisily when we brought him to her salon, but we were assured that he would be fine as soon as we left him alone with her. We were quite dubious, especially because we could still hear him as we were driving off. After trying valiantly for 4 hours she finally called us to come and pick him up. He was still barking when we got there. Despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to cut the hair around his head or on his legs, leaving him looking rather strange. As we were leaving she told us not to bring him back unless he had first been sedated by the vet. Unfortunately for us the vet had already told us he ‘never wanted to see that dog again’. Oh well, the hirsute look probably suits him better anyway…..

Sheba

1991
Dogs are my favourite animals, despite the fact that I was nearly killed by a dog when I was five.
Sheba was an Old English Sheepdog. She herself never actually saw herself as a dog; she refused to eat dog food and could open doors with her paws. She was devoted to my mother and followed her everywhere Unfortunately, on that day my mother had gone to see her parents, leaving Sheba behind. I had been feeling sick so I was on the settee watching television with a pillow and blanket. Sheba had a habit of chewing on a pillow when she was depressed and once she figured out that my mother would not be back for a day or two that’s just what she did. I objected to this and was rewarded by her biting me in the neck, needing stitches. According to the doctor she had missed my jugular vein by about 1cm. The vet came to put her down the next day. When I realised what was happening I protested, but to no avail.
In later years a friend commented that the experience should have made me fearful of dogs. My response was ‘ You know, it never actually occurred to me to be scared of dogs’. I must have been a stupid kid…

Sammy

We once had a dog who could only be described as a ‘dumb blond’. Sammy was ¾ Golden Retriever and ¼ Red Setter (a breed not exactly known for it’s intelligence). No matter how much we tried, Sammy could not (or would not) learn even the most basic commands. It was impossible to get him to walk quietly on the lead; he insisted on nearly choking himself every time. He had a great liking for squeaky dog toys, to the extent that, rather than barking, he would bite down on the toy, causing it to emit it's high-pitched squeak. This unfortunately (and unsurprisingly) did not have the desired effect of scaring anyone away. In fact, he even had trouble chasing cats away. Most of the time they would not run from him unless he had another dog with him to help him. This did not discourage him, and he continued to try and chase cats, often skidding to a stop in front of the immovable felines.
Well, who ever said intelligence was a requirement for being man’s best friend?

Of cats and computers

2006
I have yet again come across a cat (or rather a kitten) who seems to know more about computers than I do. Izzy (or Lady Isabel, to use her full name) has an annoying habit of trying to sit on the keyboard of my laptop; an action that I foolishly presumed was due to the warmth given off by the machine. She did eventually manage to sit herself down for a second while my back was turned, and when I removed her I discovered that she had somehow managed to rotate the screen image by 180°, (something that I didn’t even know was possible). I was unable to fix it myself as I also found that the cursor now moved in the opposite direction to which I attempted to move it. I therefore was forced to call on my more computer literate brother to fix the problem. The fact that cats always seem to be messing with my computer leaves me in no doubt that cats are trying to master technology and as soon as they do I'm sure they will complete their objective of taking over the world...

Typing

2006

Cats really don’t like typing. That is to say they don’t like it when people type, but they thoroughly enjoy jumping onto the keyboard and running across it, though unfortunately (despite my best efforts) they don’t take dictation!

I discovered this while trying to type with Maggie the kitten in the same room. She delighted in hiding behind the computer until I was engrossed in work, and then leaping onto my hands with teeth and claws bared. After several of these incidents (and numerous scratches), I had to continuously keep one eye on her and one on the screen in order to escape further injury. When she found this source of amusement frustrated she contented herself by running up my back and latching onto my hair. As it is actually quite difficult to remove a kitten from your back, I was forced to concede defeat and never again type in her presence.

Me Vs. Maggie

2006

Apparently Maggie knows more about computers than I do. Now, normally I wouldn't mind admitting that someone knows more about computers than I do, but in this case I do. This in because Maggie is in fact a kitten, one which delights in running across my keyboard as I'm trying to work.
I used to view this as nothing more than an annoyance until I found that my wireless card was no longer working. I took it into the computer building in university to see if they could fix it. The tech informed me, (no doubt while suppressing his laughter), that the card can be turned on and off by pressing FUNCTION and F2, (a fact that I was not aware of).

My first thought on hearing this was "THAT @#?! CAT", although I refrained from expressing my feelings aloud, fearing the tech might see it as an attempt to hide my lack of knowledge by blaming a 'dumb' animal.
Despite my lack of solid evidence, I myself have no doubt that Maggie planned this, although to what purpose, I still don't know...

Sedated? I think not!

2006
Sometimes I wonder if anyone actually reads the labels on medicine bottles.
As a case in point, in order for us to practice a particular procedure on a cow, (or ‘Bovine Animal’, as they prefer to be called), we were told that an animal had been sedated for us. Unfortunately, no one had told the cow, who proceeded to tear around the pen at full speed, dragging along anyone who tried to hold on.

After several unsuccessful attempts to run through the railings at the side of the pen, (bending the metal rails in the process), she decided that the only way out was up and leapt over the railings and into the crowd of students.

I, being the brave and helpful person I am (a very dangerous combination indeed), of course threw myself in the path of the rampaging cow. I might have been able to stop her, had not the rest of my fellow students scattered, leaving large gaps on either side of me, a fact which the ‘sedated’ cow took full advantage of. Further attempts to catch her resulted in our very own ‘Red Rum’ leaping yet another fence into a field. Needless to say, we picked a more docile animal to continue our practice.