The Unsung Hero

Mickey...the naughtiest puppy in the world.

When I was a child I was absolutely terrified of dogs. My best friend had a bull terrier that I was so frightened of I actually had nightmares about it. Every time I would go to her house to play the dog would snarl and bark at me. If it ever got anywhere near me it would jump up on me and knock me over. That damn dog knew that I hated it. I could see it in it's eyes. As far as I was concerned it was purely psychotic.

Ever since then I had never really called myself a dog person....dogs and I just didn't mix.

So when my sister announced that she was bringing home a puppy for my children one Christmas I couldn't get excited. 'It's so cute' so cooed over the phone. 'Wait 'til you see it,' she babbled with excitement, 'you'll just love it'. Yeah right, I thought. Just another thing to clean up after. Another mouth to feed. More poop to deal with...and if there was one thing I didn't need in my life it was more poop........

The day my sister introduced 'the dog' to the children they were beside themselves with excitement. He was promptly named 'Mickey' by Miss 8 (who was four at the time)They rolled around with him on the floor. He licked them and let them cuddle him and smother him. His tail was like a metronome, tick, tick, tick.
OK. I grudgingly admitted it...he was cute...adorable even.


Then he came home and we discovered something else....he was naughty too.

He pooped and peed everywhere. Inside, outside, under beds, on the couch, tiles, carpet, the bathrooms. He wasn't discerning about his toilet stops.

Then, after that debacle, he started a new one; chewing things. In particular underwear....my underwear....my nice underwear. He didn't seem interested in my daggy granny-pants however, no he was particularly partial to my lacy french knickers. If he was ever left alone for any length of time he would be in my underwear draw in a flash happily chomping on whatever lacy scrap of fabric he could find.

Another thing he loved was my leather shoes. No one else's, only mine. The more expensive the better. My Diana Ferrari boots? Gone. My Midas stilettos? Shredded. My Mollini pumps? In tatters. It was that point in time that I decided cheap, Kmart shoes would do me just fine.

He was doing my head in. Cute as he might be, he was slowly turning me batty. It was after several months of this as well as his continual barking, his constant Houdini act, and his desire to attack every dog in the vicinity when we went on our afternoon walks that we began to wonder if we were cut out for this dog business.

Thank goodness we persevered.

Because one day, quite suddenly, he changed.

He went from being a naughty little scrap of a thing to a well behaved, endearing little dog. Nearly all of his undesirable behaviours stopped. He became easy and fun. We played with him joyfully in our backyard. We took him to the dog park where he could run wild without giving a hoot about the other animals present. He started to come to us when we called him. He even learnt to go to the toilet in the backyard rather than on my favourite rug.

Sometimes he can be so good that he gets overlooked. Never neglected, we love and adore him, but amongst the hustle and bustle that is our everyday life he sometimes blends into the background. But I'm sure he knows how we all feel about him.

He makes our family complete. He enriches our lives as only a pet can.

He is our Unsung Hero.

Miss Terrific Two

Something unusual is happening with my busy, funny and mayhem-causing Miss Tornado Two. Usually I spend my days running after the little monster as she terrorizes all and sundry with her enthusiasm, verve and sheer determination.

She's famous for her tantrums, renowned for her stubbornness and notorious for striking fear into the hearts of supermarket employees in every suburb in the vicinity.

But, all of a sudden she's doing something I never thought I would see - well not until she was well into her twenties anyway...... She's actually behaving in a manner that makes it tolerable to take the little angel out in public without me dying of embarrassment at her shenanigans.Without me even having to resort to bribery involving chocolate and about a zillion hours of torture watching Dora The Explorer.

For example; Today we went to the supermarket - I know, scary isn't it? And get this....we escaped unscathed. You heard me right.....unscathed. I was calm and relaxed and so was Miss Tornado Two. We chatted amicably as I pushed her around in the trolley (which, yes, she did stay seated in for most of the trip) There was no screaming to get out, no demanding of packaged goods, no alarming of other shoppers. It was a trip completely free of disapproving stares and unwanted advice regarding my child and a swift kick up the backside.

People stopped only to comment on the general cuteness of my offspring and how well-behaved she was........... It was a revelation.
Yes, I nodded happily, she is a good little girl. And she is very cute. I know, I know, those cheeks are adorable, and yes, I am a very lucky Mummy.

I couldn't believe it. It was amazing, mind-blowing...... and really, really weird.

Miss Tornado Two started her 'terrible two's' early. In fact, she pretty much started them not long after her first birthday. One minute she was an adorable little baby and next she was a screaming, yelling little monster that even the dog was terrified of.

I had pretty much resigned myself to years and years of this torture. Of all four children Little Miss seemed destined to be my main mischief....my trouble maker.

But lately she has become a sweet, little girl - still tending to have the occasional meltdown, she is two after all - but generally she's been all goodness, light & fluffiness.

So, now I'll have to change her moniker. Miss Tornado Two doesn't seem apt at the moment. Maybe Miss Terrific Two or Miss Tremendous Two? Either way my little girl seems to be growing up.....and in the nicest possible way.

Toddler Terror

As the end of the week approaches it begins, I start to feel sick and worried and a feeling of dread settles into the pit of my stomach. On Thursday night it's worsened to the point that I have trouble sleeping and then I awake on Friday morning exhausted and dispirited.
I know it has to be done, just as it had to be done last week....and the week before...and the week before that.

It's the bane of Mother's of small children everywhere - the weekly trip to the supermarket.

Until recently I have quite enjoyed my trip down the hallowed aisles of Woolworths. I love food and I love cooking, so a trip to the supermarket has always been a bit of an adventure (sad, I know) the possibilities, the opportunities, oh, what fabulous items can I coerce into memorable meals for my family?
But lately my weekly sojourn into the wonderful world of food has been interrupted.....disturbed....destroyed...and all by a person about 2 and a half feet tall who has the personality of a whirlwind.

Unfortunately my terrible, oops sorry, terrific toddler hasn't inherited her Mother's love of buying foodstuffs.

It begins almost the instant we drive into the car park and continues until we drive out again 45 minutes later; screaming, yelling, kicking, pulling things off shelves, biting, hitting, crying.
Little old ladies "Tut, tut, tut", other Mother's hurry away and avert their eyes and silently hope that their little angel isn't silently taking notes. Mother's with like-minded toddlers nod and sigh.....they too know the pain.
The treats I pack get spat out, the toys I bring get thrown, my gentle banter to try and divert her attention - ignored.

A fake and painful smile is fixed on my face as I throw obscure items that I don't need into my trolley and try to make my escape as fast as humanely possible. The lady at the checkout sees me coming; a look of fear flits across her face before she too fixes a fake and painful smile on her face. I apologise profusely as I hold onto my struggling child and quickly load up my items.
A man behind me mutters about "giving that child a good slap" and my heart sinks down around my knees.

Suddenly the answer occurs to me, the solution, the light at the end of the tunnel, healer of hurts and up-lifter of moods. I cuddle my precious child, kiss her and then hand her a piece of chocolate.....ahhh, silence, what bliss.