The Homecoming


I’m sure we all remember the excitement you experience when Christmas is coming and you are a kid, take that excitement repackage it in an almost grown up adult and you have the very same feeling as you count off each day before picking up your cute bundle of fur. Mind you cute is only part of it…

I was relatively calm for much of the actual journey there, it didn’t seem real and to be honest I spent half an hour marvelling at how truly flat Lincolnshire was, well the part we were driving through was. Then the last thirteen minutes according the satnav struck and suddenly all that excitement bubbled to the surface and I actually squeaked! no really I emitted a full on squeak that dolphins passing by the Humber Estuary may have been forgiven for answering.

Meeting the wee furfaces we had waited so long for was overwhelming and actually a little scary, we would be taking care of these furry psychos for as long as they live, would they like us, were we good enough arghhhhh PANIC! Well the panic kinda drifts away when three furry bodies hurtle at you fighting for lap space and the nearest face to lick. Ok yes the liver treats in my pocket may have smoothed the way but we’ll gloss over that… lets just pretend I am this awesome puppy whisperer adored by puppies across the world.

What really hit me was how hard I was finding it to leave with my little furry family, the guilt of taking them away from the home they loved, their mom Kya and their brother Faolan was building up into this horrible sick tension forming in a solid cold lump in my stomach. I couldn’t do it, I avoided it until the OH gently pointed out we had to go, it was a long journey home and we would need to settle the chaos twins down for the night.

One of the hardest things I have ever had to do is carry those little face licking, nose biting happy little bundles of fur to the car, ever fibre of my being screamed at me that I was doing a bad thing, I was taking these happy creatures from their home and into the big scary world of a small village in the Midlands, now that may not sound terrifying to you but you clearly have never been shopping on a Saturday in the Bullring, Birmingham!

The journey home was actually rather uneventful if you discount the attempt to shred the Atlas, the ram type raid on a can of relentless, the pile of chewed confetti strewn across the car that was once a nice clean puppy pad and my God! these puppies can fart! They are really rather good at poo, very good at poo. I watched with a great deal of ewwwwwwww filled amazement as Yushi seemed to turn into one of those Mr Whippy style ice cream machines but instead of ice cream he was a poo factory. Where did it all come from? He was only little for pity’s sake! and the smell… you have never seen two green faced people dive for the windows so quickly, I pawed at the door looking for the handle for the window but I couldn’t find it WHERE IS THE BLOODY TURNY HANDLE? Took almost a full minute for the realisation that the windows on our car are electric, we don’t have a handle just a neat little button. Took a further minute to realise that my frantic stabbing of said window button wasn’t working… WHY WASN’T it working? WHY? oh you press the button the other way, who knew!

When they weren’t shredding, vacating their bowels or trying to steal my food and drink they slept like little furry angels with hidden wings. I was expecting much whining/howling/whimpering when we got home and not just from the pups, lets face it Dudeface had just had to drive for six hours and dealing with driving, the chaos and turning green at the smells couldn’t have been easy. I was wrong on both counts, the pups strolled into the house like they had lived there all their short lives and the Dudeface  was still wide awake and a far more normal colour as he sat on the floor with them. Their new home was our largish office now filled with two crates complete with blankets, a mountain of toys, shiny dog bowls, neat little lidded stack n store boxes filled with puppy pads, wet wipes, pressed salmon oil, rawhide chews and dinky black bags that look like nappy sacks but are meant for the Mr Dog Whippy efforts we had already met in the car.

Shiny, neat, clean… Oh how I remember those days with the neat little piles of folded sweetly smelling blankets, was it really only three weeks ago? Hmm I sit here now and look at the stained, half eaten almost completely destroyed carpet, the empty spaces on the shelving unit where everything had to be moved to save it from tiny razor sharp teeth and the fur covered blankets that get dragged off to the correct pile and out of the corner of my eye I can see Atka disappearing with a sock she has just stolen from the inside of my walking boots, silly me for thinking the socks would be safe there.

Do you know they haven’t just stolen my relentless, my socks and my nice neat office, Oh no… they also stole my heart the second they leapt upon me, bit my nose and nuzzled my hand for treats. And you know what?  I’m not in any rush to get it back.

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