Four, going on 40

I often mention my dog, Logan.

A better tempered dog you would be hard pressed to find. He loves the children* and cats (taste delicious) and all visitors, especially the delivery guys who often have dog treats in their pockets. As a guard dog he'd be rubbish, unless of course the burglar was allergic to dog hair and our house is full of that (if I'd known how much retrievers shed I'd have had a poodle.)

Logan is four, five this August. So in dog years that makes him 28, almost 35. Well past the delinquent teenager stage - you'd have thought. But no. This last week has seen atrocious behaviour from him and I'm not amused.

It started last Tuesday when he went AWOL for over an hour in the woods after getting into the cemetary on the trail of some delectable scent.

Wednesday he again snook into the cemetary through a different spot - fortunately we noticed straight away and were able to round up the rogue before he vanished into some grave to reappear licking his chops.

This week he's woken me in the middle of the night three times, so that he can go out and pee/poo. I wouldn't mind*** but I always send him into the garden before lights out. Wretch.

Two days ago walking with Rebecca and Oscar (Logan's best friend) both dogs were so...immature, I renamed them both 'Dumb and Dumber'****. They were disappearing, eating anything and everything indiscriminately, peeing on each other, and then Logan got hold of a small plastic container (maybe 1 inch square) that had probably had take out ketchup or garlic butter in it. When we realised what he'd got we knew he could't keep it. It took the two of us to prise open his jaws and extract the plastic container.

Today I had a coffee and cake date with Rebecca and Princie. We put the three dogs in Rebecca's dog-proof garden. Two minutes later Logan was outside the front door, having escaped from the garden. We put him back twice before giving up and leaving him to lie on his own in the porch. Rebecca has now got to try and find out where Logan's hidden the matter transporter because that garden is dog-proof.

I joked to my friends that Logan's behaviour this last week had been like that of a delinquent teenager, but that he's too old (in dog years) for it to be classed as juvenile high spirits. Princie had the answer. She declared he was going through a mid life crisis!

That's all I need, a dog that thinks he needs a motorbike.


* but couldn't eat a whole one** as Simon would add.
** although actually he'd give it a damn good go.
*** that's a bare faced lie, I do mind, I hate having my sleep disturbed.
**** another film title.