Sleep apnoea ,Inbreeding and other bulldog updates

Through routine and hard work ,the training of a three year old bulldog seems to be working.
Everyday she goes for a walk with the other dogs and will walk to heel on a lead right next to the main road without her previous frozen awareness.
True the secret of this sudden improvement  can be put down to some simple mirroring of the pack's behaviour, but I think that "hiding" Constance away from the traffic next to the ever cheerful George has helped immeasurably!
Toilet training has improved tenfold too. OK accidents continue , especially when routine has been breached, but generally things seem a great deal better.
However, the very fact the bulldogs are undeniably inbred, means that Constance does suffer from obvious breathing problems.Sleep apnoea is her most common complaint ( for those that do not know, this is where the upper airways are effective closed by a physical deformity when the animal is asleep) and as in humans ( I am a sufferer) she suffers from broken sleep and I am sure over tiredness when awake.
Subsequently, when she does sleep, I suspect she occasionally sleeps very deeply and sometimes will actually wet her bedding without knowing it....Having said this...a strict bedtime routine has helped minimise "accidents"
(I have to say that although I suffer from sleep apnoea I have never wet myself in bed!)
Mind you I once peed on the radiator after taking two dihydrocodeine for a bad back!

Inbreeding in any animal species to achieve the "perfect" standard is wrong when it affects the physical well being of the animal concerned. Constance may have the typical look of a bulldog that ticks all the boxes, but she will be prone to entropean (ingrowing eyelashes), airway problems,tear staining, wrinkle infections and wetness and the more serious hip displacia,

I knew all this before we accepted her. I knew she would be more difficult to care for and to train compared to the others, but for me, her rambunctious  personality, her innate need to be fussed over and her "enjoyment" in being a part of something, all outweigh the odd pile of steaming poo in the kitchen

Albert giving Constance the "evil" eye

Having waxed lyrically over the virtues of bullsdogs, there is someone in the cottage that has not quite been won over by a set of piggy little eyes and a somewhat musical length of bowel.
Albert still remains unsure of Constance and still makes a point of not rubbing his face against hers when he greets the pack after their walks........
There is time yet........

Gawd Bless 'em

The King's Speech was a welcome Sunday Evening film choice. A clever British period piece, this story of the "bromance" between the psychologically damaged Prince Albert/ King George VI (Colin Firth) and his speech therapist Lional Logue (Geoffrey Rush) truly catches the  imagination from the get-go and gives the audience a satisfying, old fashioned and hugely enjoyable story of friendship, amid yesterday's Royal Family.
Firth and Rush make for two cracking leads who leap into their roles with some power and gusto. The Prince (Bertie),  angry and unhappy in his public role because of a dreadful stammer is desperate for what indeed turned out to be psychotherapy by the bitingly funny,instinctive and self proclaimed speech specialist Logue. However Royal protocol, snobbery and fear hamper the one to one interaction between the two men until the sudden abdication of Edward VIII forces  Bertie to face his demons.

It is a story that is refreshingly new to most people and remains satisfying because we recognise the "smaller" characters within the story!     Helena Bonham Carter ( not an actress I like) is just perfect in the role of Elizabeth, the Queen Mother as she gives one of the most loved true life characters, a steely strength, an innate snobbery (which cleverly she never apologises for) and an ironic dry as toast sense of humour. You are instantly forced to like the character of the Queen Mum, It is a nice move as the strength of the movie lies with how she and indeed the King drop their guard to embrace the warmth, and friendship of  straight talking commoner Louge.
Having paying homage to Bonham Carter ( Oh and the wonderful cameo by Michael Gambon as the gruff then senile King George V) this movie IS Rush and Firth's baby.
The scene where Bertie finally opens up his heart to Louge about his unhappy childhood is immensely powerful and dreadfully moving to watch and by the time the two men work together to face the wartime Kings Speech, there was not a dry eye in the house.....
An excellent 9/10
Go see it.

Mrs Trellis from North Wales

Living in the village, I have learnt to glean pleasure from the smallest of situations.
It is not a hard thing to do.
I enjoy people watching. and have always noticed the minutiae of  frailties and idiosyncrasies within people since my Psychiatric nurse days way back in the 1980s.
One villager I ALWAYS enjoy watching is MrsTrellis (not her real name)
She is a diminutive, white haired and vital lady, with a ready smile and a gentle nature. She loves animals and makes a huge fuss of the dogs when she meets them, a thing she did yesterday , when she met a rather non plussed Constance for the first time.
The essential humour in Mrs Trellis' behaviour is that she just cannot control her huge black and white sheepdog when out for its walk. Often when I am walking up High Street, heading towards the Gop, I may just spy Mrs Trellis ambling down the hill without a seeming care in the world.
Then she will spy me and more importantly the four dogs with me and noticeably she will go into what I can only describe as a minor controlled panic.
 Before her dog actually starts that "stiffening" gait that all dogs do when they are unsure of others, Mrs Trellis will do a tiny dance of shortening her dog's lead, adjusting her clothing for a bit of a tussle and then will try to bolt for the nearest escape route, whether it be a field gate, an open driveway or a behind a handy bush!
Of course her anxiety is immediately transmitted to her dog, who realising that something is afoot will bound forward to challenge whatever threat that is ahead and then I am faced with the spectacle of small  rather deadpan old lady being effectively dragged around like Stephen Boyd in the Ben Hur Chariot race, whilst yelling "whoa! stop! STOP! WHOA!!!!! Noooo! steady!!!

It doesn't perhaps sound very funny, but every time it happens I could literally lie on the floor and chuckle my pants off.
I think what I actually find funny is the juxtaposition of huge hairy barking dog and tiny sweet old lady, with her heels "clacking" manically on the road...
or perhaps it's just me eh?
To me she is the spit of actress frances sternhagen (right)
When I met her yesterday, she was alone , so she could make a fuss of the dogs without any fear of confrontation.
Wistfully, she always comments on just how well behaved the dogs are.....and I always curb the urge to suggest that she buys a Yorkshire terrier!

Time to read

Yesterday was not  a good day basically because I would not bow to my innate need to be in control!
I could not ensure the dogs were walked
I would not ensure that the birds were fed
and I could not ensure my patient did not drop his pulse rate as much as he did.
I know I am a control freak
Nothing new to learn there.

However, lying in bed right now, after taking the dogs out for their early morning pee, I had a sort of epiphany of sorts. No it was not a sudden wish to let life wash over me and to relinquish control to others...no don't be friggin daft, no it was a more important realisation than than.
I realised that I have not read a book in an absolute AGE!
I used to be a voracious reader.

mz Cornwell

Fiction (in the guise of dyky Patricia Cornwell  and the benign Jonathan Kellerman) would be devoured in an evening, and my book shelves are filled with scores of real life non fiction accounts of wartime daring do, disaster stories and the odd police real crime caper

And so this morning as we lay sipping our tea I have decided to buy a pair of reading spectacles and a bedside light and have just informed Chris that instead of watching re runs of "chopper coppers" ( I know it sounds like a gay porn film ( Police reality show), I will be coming to bed a little earlier from now on with a book!

my guilty evening pleasure reality cop shows!

There! Back in control again!
Tonight will be Cornwells first ( and best novel)
Post Mortem!

Right need to get up now!
I will leave Chris and all of the terriers in bed. ( He is watching Antiques Road Trip on his Ipad) they are trying manfully to creep under the duvet
Time to don wellies and anorak yet again

Calon Lan

This video made me smile as much as the next one did....but smile with a rather sweet natured tear!
Crying easily means a bad day at work!!!

Tee Hee

sometimes in blog land you just have to make yourself smile before you go to bed
hey ho

T * F * I *F

I couldn't have got through today without the kindness of neighbours 
At 6.45am I took all four dogs around to Ewan who lives in the last house on the lane to be "babysat "when I went into work again.
Bless him, he was stood at his door all bleary eyed and slightly dishevelled when I dropped them off and there was not one backward glance when Ewan opened his door, his heart ( and I suspect ,his treat tin) to them all!

Another Neighbour, Mandy, had agreed to let the birds out ( even though she is a little fearful of ANYTHING feathered)............and bless her cotton socks....for when I finally got home ( after ANOTHER absolutely awful shift) she met me on the lane all a bit tremulous and shell shocked

The turkey (Boris) had pecked her as she had opened the turkey house door and  the poor lass had legged it before he could inflict any serious damage...
I think he panicked her so much, that she forgot to open two other hen houses and the bottom turkey hut..... but as I had overfilled the houses with feed, there was no real damage done.

We have had freezing snow and rain this morning........I have hated today...........

The diet is going well by the way, how I will look post weightwatchers

A Town Called Panic

I have never been a fan of those screwball comedies from the 1930s.The incessent shouting, constant motion and rapidly delivered one liners always gives me a headache , so I was somewhat dissapointed by the "hilarious" French animated feature A Town called Panic this evening, which unfortunately contained all of these irritiating features.

The story of the adventures of three plastic toys ( a squeeky voiced Cowboy, a camp Indian and a pragmatic horse) was clever enough but the incessent movment and noise within the narrative gave my nerves a real shake up and I left after an hour , which was a shame.

It was the first film I had gone to see for an age...and it was a pity that it was not as good as the broadsheets said it was.

4/10

Mind you I loved the film's title.....reminded me of one of the best movie titles EVER

Who could ever forget the Stella Stevens/ Telly Savalas 1971 western A Town Called Bastard?

No THAT'S a real movie title