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Published on February 3rd, 2014 | by The Town Crier


Musings of a Mediocre Mother

So, I’ve become pretty obsessed with my dog, although not necessarily in a good way. I talk about him like parents talk about their new born child, and ask more experienced parents/owners for advice on sleeping, toilet training, feeding and teething. I’m still not sure how much I like him; by about 6.00pm, (which corresponds with the dreaded bath and bed time for babies), I’m ready to give him away, pretty much how I felt about the children. By then I’ve removed endless objects from his mouth, said ‘no’ in a firm and assertive manner until I’m hoarse, been at the beck and call of his toilet needs and tried controlled crying, (him, not me), to allow me to get some housework done whilst he’s shut in the kitchen.

But then just like a baby, he’ll give me a moment of calm when he looks at me with his big brown eyes  and it’s a look that I know is just for me, or I’ll find him asleep in the most unlikely position, causing me to smile indulgently. He still seems amazed to find he has a tail attached to his bum which he’s never able to catch. Every day is a new adventure and even if I get cross with him, he never bears a grudge.

The obedience thing needs a bit of work though, at 4 months he’s going through the doggy equivalent of the ‘terrible two’s’. When he was a very small puppy, he would come to my call, how smug was I? This recently wore off and so I took to carrying a Tupperware box with treats in it that I would rattle to let him know he would get rewarded if he came back to me, which worked for a Nano-second. Now, I can call him, rattling my box like mad, whilst he sits with a look that says. ‘You’ll have to do better than that’, just out of reach, ready to run if I make a move towards him. And like all toddlers the game of ‘Catch me Mummy’, is great fun for them but soon becomes a complete pain for the parent.

Ok, final bit of doggy rant. I was proud as punch of my pooch when other owners of young puppies told tales of how their dogs would eat their own poo if they could. Oh no, not my dog, never shown any interest. So, imagine my horror when walking him through a field that had recently had sheep grazing in it, to find that he adores sheep’s do-do. It was like a starving man in an all you can eat buffet, he couldn’t get enough of the stuff. Disgusting. Can you understand how I might have mixed emotions?


It has recently been revealed in the press that the French President, Francois Hollande, has been having an affair with a French actress. This has left his partner (no he’s not married) understandably distraught. In true French style, electing an unmarried, co-habiting minister to President was not a problem, and in this day and age perhaps it shouldn’t be. However, now it appears that she has been usurped by a younger model, it is not the President’s behaviour that is being questioned by the public, but rather they are calling for the ousting of his long-standing partner from the Elysée Palace because they are paying for her up-keep. But what the French seem to find most distressing is that Hollande travelled to see his mistress riding pillion on a scooter driven by his bodyguard. Really not very chic…


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