Posts Tagged ‘Dogs’

Caring McGee

When we go to the shops, Ms Pietersons becomes McGee – McGee is a seeing/hearing dog in training and she is ever so kind, she helps the aged and sick children and she has permission to go wherever she likes.

 A couple of weeks ago Maureen suggested that we take her into Waitrose and so we popped her in the trolley, trying (albeit unsuccessfully) to cover her with my coat.

The first manager we encountered, laughed and turned a blind eye, as did the rest of the staff and managers in the store that day.

However, there was one small blip when she barked and snapped at a child and Ms Pieterson’s disguise was blown.

‘Oh dear, McGee.




McGee is Maureen’s cockerpoo – that is the name she goes by when out in the local high street. We are often told to leave dog free establishments and these requests fall on deaf ears – for McGee is a ‘hearing dog’ who works with deaf children at the local hospital and she works heavy shifts and long hours, at the end of a long day she likes nothing more than to go for a Starbucks and we stand up for her rights. As Maureen and I chatter about all her caring ways, people look upon her benevolently, when in reality she is snappy, spoilt little Ms Pietersens in disguise.



We Do What We Want

Maureen’s divine cockapoo, Ms Pietersons, loves to come shopping up the High Road. There’s no way on earth that we would leave her outside on her own, so wherever we go, in she comes and we will walk around confident and inwardly defiant in case a kerfuffle erupts. Today we took her in to Starbucks, where she was received well by the staff, who had dogs themselves it turned out and it was okay with them. We then had to go to McDonalds to get Maureen’s dad Edmund a quarter pounder with no cheese, which he insisted would be fine heated up in the microwave at least an hour after purchase. So handing the lead to me, we walked up to the counter with our furry friend, where we stood with about three other people, who didn’t seem to give a shit that there was a dog in store. After a few minutes she was spotted by ‘Store Shift Manager’, Kelvin, who said, ‘Can you take the dog outside?’ ‘No’, I replied, ‘We can’t leave her out there, she might get stolen and fed to pit bulls’, ‘Okay’, said Kelvin – I think he must have originated from the Caribbean – ‘Only my line manager might see it on the camera.’ ‘Never mind’, I said, ‘Pretend to tell me to leave and I’ll say no’, so we enacted it in mime form for the camera and Ms Pietersons enjoyed her meal at the table … well, we couldn’t resist a little burger while we were there, be rude not to.



I’m Boring

A friend of mine let slip that a mutual friend of ours thinks that my life is boring. I let it go over my head, water off a duck’s back. I may have chortled. It reminded me of a conversation that I’d had with Doc a couple of months ago when I told him that I was bored. He asked me, ‘Are you boring?’, to which I responded, ‘Probably.’ I was a bored child, it used to drive my mum mental (as if she wasn’t mental enough) but I actually get pleasure out of boredom, it’s one of my hobbies. Therefore I don’t know why my friend’s comment grated on me, except for the fact that it’s fucking judgemental. I wouldn’t swap my life with hers (or anyone else’s for that matter) and if she thinks my life is boring, she doesn’t have to it live it, ‘So thank you for the feedback and up yours.’



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