May I introduce you to Plum, the youngest member of our immediate Mutt Family? Also referred to as Plumbag (and Plumpty, Plumptious, Plumtittyplumplum-plum-plum, should probably stop here…), she’s a Springador; that dreamy combination of eternally hungry Labrador and endlessly enthusiastic Spaniel.
Plum’s Pet Hates*:
- Most men- pretty handy for stranger danger.
- Being without Mummy Emmie- the whines just aren’t worth it.
- When lunch is late- this is a tummy in need of feeding, people.
Plum’s Pet Rates:
- Food- anytime, any day, anyway. Lives for the stuff- probably a good thing given the perpetual showcasing of ribs. OH, to have her metabolism.
- The lawn mower- with Plum being the north magnet, the lawnmower, south. The mowing of lawn; a stressful time.
- The brother- love of her life, man of her dreams; such standards of tummy tickling have yet to be exceeded.
- Mummy Emmie- it’s a worship. Of the hero variety.
Plum has a Tigger-like spring seemingly super-glued to her buttocks (Admittedly our own fault. We really ought to have considered the gene pool when mating Mummy Emmie with Absent Father Merlin.) meaning all hopes of a half decent photo are periodically dashed before the camera has even had time to exit the pouch. But behold, I ventured into the garden on Sunday and had, well, semi-success. Among the endless blurs and mouth-wide-open beauties, a couple of shots that resembled something vaguely blog-worthy were achieved. A miracle if ever there was one.
*spluttered with laughter and gave myself a congratulatory pat on the back at this- if you must know.