Thursday, 2 April 2015

It Stinks Outside!

We've chosen Lola. As we walk towards the car I hold her tight. She's fidgety and the last thing I want is to be wondering through the streets of an unfamiliar neighbourhood, looking for a black pug, in the dark.

I still can't believe she's mine. I feel like the mother of a newborn only minus the sleepless nights, minus the stinky nappies, and minus the crying. Famous last words..... and yes, I did come crashing back down to earth with an almighty thud, precisely fifteen minutes later... But in my defence, it's been twelve years since I had a baby in the house and Fifi my Chihuahua Cross was a year old when I got her so I bypassed the whole puppy phase, but surely it's not that hard, is it?

Fast forward ten minutes, Lola is on my sons lap, on the blanket my mum packed, along with toilet roll, nappy bags and dettol wipes (dettol wipes? A little over the top don't you think?) You never know when you might need them were my mothers wise words. I'm watching lovingly as my son gently strokes our beautiful pug puppy and then I see his nose wrinkle ever so slightly. He sniffs up and says Phwaor, it stinks outside. I sniff up and agree, we're in the country side, what did he expect? My dad winds his window down and calmly states that the smell isn't coming for outside. My Mum bursts into hysterial laughter - Did you get the wipes out of the boot of the car?

We've just experienced Lolas first poo, in the back of my Dads nice clean car, that he uses for work. We're not allowed to eat in this car, we're not allowed to drink in this car, we must keep our dirty shoes off the back of the seats and we must never touch the windows and leave our mucky fingers prints all over this car .... and Lola has just pood, in the car. And there we have it, the exact moment I came crashing back down to earth, fifteen minutes later .....

I hold my breath. I might be in my early 30s but I'm not too old for a stern telling off from my father. I wait ... He still hasn't said a word .... so I grab the wipes, the poo bags, the loo roll and frantically clean up the mess, and I don't say another word about it. And neither does he. And he even stopped by the chippy on the way home!

The moral of this story? Mums always know best, Dads are more tolerant than you think and Pug puppies poo in cars.

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