Miss Tilly...

In my life my family have had three dogs: Misty, Pepper and Rosie.

When I decided to get Miss Tilly, I would have (and did) swear up and down that I knew what it took to look after a dog. I knew what I needed to know and I was ready - it would be a breeze.

I suspect now that this kind of thinking is akin to someone reading a parenting manual and deciding that they are an expert in having and rearing children.

Erm, no.

Miss Tilly is a bundle of fun, excitement, annoyance, love, energy, joy, dirt - I could go on.

I love her to pieces but I have to admit that she tests the patience at times. I still wouldn't swap her for the world but I would quite like to go back in time and slap my smug self who said she knew what she was doing.

Note to self - I don't know what I'm doing!

My biggest problem is being mad. Not getting mad but staying mad.

How are you supposed to be mad, get angry and mete out discipline when you get this thrown in your face each and every time?

It's a skill, I tell you.

The other way in which punishment can be avoided is by being too darn funny. Miss Tilly can turn on the humour when she spots that she might be in a sticky situation.

There you stand, mid-rant when she excuses herself to, em, well, lick her bits. You can do little but laugh at that lack of respect.

She also manages to choose the most ridiculous items to run away with. She stole several of my canes out of the shed (for supporting plants before anyone assumes anything that they shouldn't!). One by one, she plucked them from the shed, running out each time and hiding them at the back of the garden. The fact that they were easily three times the length of her made it too funny to chastise her. God help me when it comes time to plant up my veggies this year.

That event was also mirrored when I decided to put soil in some pots ready for starting some seeds this week. I put the soil in a number of pots and then decided to move them all to a place where they wouldn't be blown away in the dregs of the coming storm. I took a couple over to the shelter, returned only to find two of the remaining pots were tumbled and the soil trickled all over the patio. Confused, I picked them up, scooped up the soil and took a further two over to the shelter. Returning again the same had happened - more pots turned over and more soil all over everything. Then I saw the culprit sitting pretty on the grass beside the patio. Miss Tilly bounded up to me and looked so happy to have helped me with my game. She jumped up with her muddy paws and kissed me with her muddy mouth. Humour and affection abounded - I would tell her off the next time! Honestly I would.

But the next time was this:

And she didn't get into trouble here either. I mean, could you discipline this face?

Didn't think so.

So I'll have a terror for a dog. But a cute terror.