Candy's New House
by Roger McKillop
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: Some mild ones.
Description: It’s flitting time for the Pomsky Princess.
Swearwords: Some mild ones.
Description: It’s flitting time for the Pomsky Princess.
I was snuggled cosily on the couch, playfully disembowelling yet another “Ducky”, when Mum dropped the bombshell, “I’m going to buy a new house, Candles.” I looked at her, interestedly cocked my head, yawned, stretched and rolled over for tummy tickles. I had no real idea what this would entail, so I settled down to my accustomed life. Monday and Tuesday, when Mum goes off to work, I’m left for maybe 10 minutes before Grumps appears. I sit up on the couch and watch for his car, my ears prick up and I watch until he opens the gate, then it’s off to the top of the stairs. I wait there until he opens the door, then it’s the Pomsky avalanche, all tail and bum wagging as I bound down to greet his TREATS! He always gives me two and I can count to 2! I then start my internal stopwatch to make sure I receive my full entitlement of tickles. Then it's out for walkies and meeting my doggie friends. Eh, wait a minute, eh, “I’m going to buy a new house”? Where? Will that mean not seeing Sam? I’ve been playing with him forever since I first came to Scotland. I used to be able to slip between the bars of the fence to his garden. He used to be “my big pal”, now I tower over him but we’re still play-pals. Will we not meet up again with him and old Guinness? What about big Brew? I first met him when Grumps and I strolled along a road we don’t usually go down. The front door of the last house was open, as we reached it there was a very deep “WOOF!” I stopped, all eagerness to meet new friends but I’d never before or since seen so much “friend!” He bounded out the door like a black and white canine tsunami, flowing towards his garden fence and us! I bravely stood my ground……..(Aye, for aboot a millisecond ya wee fearty! Zip it, Grumps! I’m telling the story, just you keep typing, like a good boy! Bossy wee toad......)…….then decided that the best place to view this onslaught was from behind Grumps’ legs! Brew, I found out later, was a Bernese/Newfoundland cross and sodding enormous! He leaped up onto the fence and Grumps, a tubby Hobbit in a Cowboy hat…….. (Cheeky wee git, ye mean, “Well built with enough social conscience to wear the hat to prevent folk being blinded by the glare off the top o’ my bald heid? Mmmmmmmmm? Eh? No! Or, as you’d say, Aye right! Any mair o’ this an ye can tak’ yer story an’ stick it ………….! Sorry about that, the old boy sometimes gets above himself and I have to put him back in his place! Ok back to the story.)……. Brew brought himself up to his full height, front paws on the fence and both Grumps and I were looking up. Well Grumps looked up, I looked up, up and further up, only to see a huge gob of drool descending in my direction. I can tell you it was an extremely bowel disturbing moment but then I spotted, between Brew’s legs……… (Hay! Ye were only a wee pup, ye shouldnae hae been lookin’ there! Can I get on with my story, please? Listen and learn baldy!)…….a huge wagging tail! ……..(Just a minute, while I turn and give Grumps a smug look!)…...Then to my surprise he got down off the fence and did a “doggie bow” as an invitation to play! He pranced left and right and I matched his movements and we played “chase me, chase me.” Grumps picked me up so we could sniff noses. He was just another doggie, ok, so I snapped at his nose to put him in his place! After that we were great friends. …….(Eh, “great friends?” Ya shameless wee hussy, you used tae flirt wi’ him, coyly lyin’ doon at his feet an’ lookin’ at him ower yer shooder, then rollin’ ontae your back, wi’ legs pointin’ in opposite directions! Grumps, a girl has to express herself in an artistic and elegant fashion. Aye? Somethin’ like that!)
Would moving house mean I wouldn’t see Alisha, our elderly neighbour, who could flash a set of gums more fearsome than any canines and whose language was bluer that the tracery of veins in her red cheeks! ….........(Just a minute you! “A tracery of veins?” Stop all the poetic stuff and just type what I’m telling you, right? And stop muttering. I don’t know you, just can’t get the Grumpses these days……..)….. I would be allowed out in the front garden and Alisha would throw a treat out of her window to me. Now that’s a game I was very happy to play. If she delayed the kick-off, I gently reminded her of my presence by barking and jumping up at her fence. So, was my whole world going to change? Would I still be able to go to Grumps’ house, would I still see Granny? Mum assured me that I would, so I settled down, my mind comforted greatly but over the next few months, comfort was a decreasing rarity!
At first it was fun, Mum would bring in sheets of cardboard and fold them into boxes. I thought they were small houses so I’d take up residence, only to be promptly evicted! I’d then play the game of “Mum puts stuff in and Candy takes it out!” I loved this game but the joy was very, very, very one-sided! As was the pleasure of tearing off the tape Mum left on the boxes. Sheesh, some folk are just very hard to please! Gradually all our cosy furnishings disappeared until we were left with only my bed, a Winnie the Pooh rug….. (Will yer Maw ever grow up? Oh! Listen to Mr Mature here! You like to pretend you’re Peter Pan, whizzing down the tracks on your Mountain Bike, with Mum and I in your wake, my wee paws just a blur trying to keep up. Ah, but where are you when it gets to the old climbing back up bit? I rest my case!)…….and two rickety old camp chairs. It didn’t feel like home any more and was, as a Mum put it, “A wee bit sad an’ dreich hoose!”
Eventually I was taken over to live with Granny, while Mum made the move. I did not see Mum often over the following weeks, which made me sad, so I consoled myself with terrorising the cat! Coochie and I have reached an understanding to tolerate each other….(Coochie! Granny’s got either no taste or a great sense of humour!)…...now that doesn’t stop us trying to get one over, such as nicking each other’s grub or locking them out of the front room. Once he pushed the door closed in front of me, l got up on my hind legs and thrust 20 kg of Pomsky onto it, bursting it open. I walked over to the settee, jumped up and gave moggy features my smuggest look! He decided that if he couldn’t keep me out, he’d try keeping me in. Mmmmmmmm? Bad idea pussy! He laid himself across the door as a feline draft excluder. I walked over to him, looked at the door, looked at him and took the only sensible action open to a thwarted Pomsky, I sat on him! The wrath of judgement descended upon him!.....(“Judgement?” Yes, welllllllll, really, if you want to be pedantic, it was my bum!)….The only time we combine in joint action is when Granny’s carving up the Sunday chicken or roast beef, if we sit behind her in the kitchen and subject her to enough, suggestive staring, she will toss the occasional tasty piece over her shoulder for the quickest on the mooch……(Tasty piece? How would you know? They disappear doon yer gob without touchin’ the bloody sides! Yer taste buds wid hae tae be on steroids tae even catch a whiff o’ the meat! Now, now, Grumps, be a good lad and just type, remember, I do the funnies!)……On the subject of Mooch, I have been training Gordon, Mum’s brother, to give me good night treats. At approximately 11:00 he goes to his room and gives me a treat, then we both go off to bed. One night I dropped off early…..(Ye’d probably been Grumpsed earlier with hikes ower the Braes! Oh, listen to the athlete, I’ve seen you waddling up the hills, while I’m off exploring. Auntie Steph shopped you, by the way, saying that YOU flake out in your chair, after you’ve dropped me off at Granny’s. She says that YOU’VE been CANDIED!)…..My internal clock struck TREAT, I woke up and found the place in darkness. They’d all buggered off to bed, leaving this poor Pomsky treatless. I rattled the gate, used to stop me getting into Gordon’s room, to raid Coochie’s bowl. This did not provide the desired result so I went to the next level of attention getting. I found one of my water bottles and started crunching off the lid. Ever since my first night in Granny’s house I’ve loved crunching plastic bottles but this one did not have enough treat bearing decibels! As Bugs Bunny would say, “You know, this means war!” I went for my ultimate weapon, my squeaky pig! I oinked up and down the lobby floor, like a parading porcine piper, squeaking Piggy, till they were all up! Despite the swearing, I fixed Gordon with my most penetrative stare but uptake, there was none! I went all out with the less than subtle lick of my chops and a pathetically raised paw, still nobody in! It was Granny who first plumbed the mystery of my behaviour, “Gordon! The wee bugger’s waantin’ her 11 o'clock treat!” My gob received said confection and sleep, well, for me at least, was cosily resumed.
My best pal over at Granny’s is Becky, a grey pooch about my size, with an unfortunately covetous eye for my toys!……( Grumps! You’re doing it again! Sorry, Your Royal Pomskyness!)…..We would go for walks and play and fight in the back garden. Then, one day we had a big fall out! Well, I wanted the stick, it was a special stick, much better than all the other sticks lying around! It was my “precious stick and I wants it!”…. ( Grumps? What the hell are you Tolkien about?)…..Well, we still went for walks but our noses pointed in different directions and we ignored each other for ages! It took the intervention of a third party to break the huff. We were strolling back through the woods when we realised we were not alone, our duo had become a trio! There between us was a red doggie with a very bushy tail. Both our noses spotted the intruder’s identity before our eyes, we both turned on him, but he’s foxed off, if you’ll pardon the expression!
Mum, at last, said she’d take me back home. We went after our usual discussion about who sits in the pilot’s seat in her car but I did not recognise the route. Then she pulled into a road that still looked like a building site, which in fact it was. She opened a black door and showed me in to a small hall. I ran up the stairs, as I had always done in our old house, when I got up I was shocked! Mum, what have you done? Where’s the rest of our house? There was only 2 rooms and a toilet! Where’s the kitchen? We're we going on an extreme diet? I padded down the steep stairs and looked at her in disbelief. She opened another door and showed me a lounge……( Grumps, “a lounge?” What the Donald is a Lounge? The “Front Room” tae you. Thought you’d want tae be a wee bitty posher seein’ it wis yer new hoose. It's not me, I can do posh but we’ve, as you would say, “Nae chance!” with Mum! “Candy where’s you?” “ I’m down here in the lounge?” She’d never find me!)……leading into a kitchen! There was a set of doors leading onto a reasonable sized garden. It should have been great but the place was filled with all those damn boxes that made the last weeks in the old house so miserable! I padded around looking for some comfort but I found very little. Mum had put my bed down in a corner of the front room……..( short pause to stick tongue out at Grumps! Hmmmmmmf wee, cultureless, Irish mutt………) …..but I just could not settle. Would we ever be cosy again, no curtains, boxes everywhere and sterile white walls, Mum why?
Mum took me back to Granny’s house for a few days while she went to sort out the new house. When we went back a lot of the boxes had disappeared, some out to the dump, some upstairs into the spare room, which Mum called a “Glory hole!” On the first morning, Grumps arrived to take me out! I’d missed him a lot so it was all tail, body, let's face it, everything wagging and demanding his entry fee, 2 treats and an extended tummy tickle. He took me out a walk and it dawned on me that I knew this place. Yip, Grumps used to walk me here from his house. He used to babble on about “new houses” but I was too busy sniffing to listen to him doing his usual prattle!........(Ya cheeky wee bugger, whit dae ye mean “his usual prattle?” It's embarrassing, you talk away, making up silly songs and rhymes! I have to pretend to be interested in a pile of horse s……., well, we’ll leave that bit, if there’s anyone about! Then there was that time at the crossing, “What do we do?” So I sit, then it’s, “Now look for Mot-mots! Lilly told you that Mot-mots want to eat Pomskies!” Now THAT is embarrassing enough BUT the looks you were getting from the old lady behind you was pitiful! Eh, oh, mmmmmmmmm, prattle is it? I don’t know, ye make up stories an’ naebudy likes…………………)……..Now if we walked here, we can’t be far from Grump’s house! Things were starting to look up! We were also near Cathkin Braes, so walkies would be much more fun. We also found a nice route near the house as well, so things might not be too bad.
Gradually Mum got our house in order and some level of comfort was restored in out lives. Grumps says that our walks from the house have 3 paces, Walkies, Draggies and Breakies! Now I’d like to argue this slander but it does have a very small basis in truth……..( “Small basis in truth?” Aye right, oh aye ye’re aw’ sniffs, raised tail an’ Pomsky swagger on the way oot! As long as we’re goin’ away frae the hoose yer fine but the instant we turn back, suddenly the heid’s doon, the tail’s atween yer legs an’ every bluidy blade o’ gress needs tae be sniffed in minute detail! Ye need tae be dragged tae get ye tae move. Well a young doggie has to understand and explore her environment! Whit about the change o’ pace frae purposeful march tae arthritic crawl? Weeell a doggie gets tired with all that exercise! And when we get to yer hoose, ye clamp on the brakes! A hae tae pull yer lead, pullin’ up yer ruff roond yer lugs, while ye lock yer front legs an’ lean back on yer hurdies! This impasse is only broken if yer allowed tae slouch up the street, doon the lane intae yer back gairden, where ye demand bein’ let off the lead. I need to do a “Warm Down” and stretch after exercise, you should know that! Oh aye an’ yer love o’ the Great Ootdoors comes tae a very abrupt end if ye hear the slightest noise associated wi’ grub! Hmfff, I’ll strongly object to that, when I can think of some credible excuse!)……..
Talking about food, I received a cuisine epiphany while I was at Grump’s house. Auntie Steph had made Crispy Duck and Pancakes for lunch one day. I loved this, Mum makes it too and gives me a couple of pancakes and Hoisin sauce, yum! I sat and did my “Look at the poor starved doggie” impersonation, moved from Grumps to Steph to try to wear down their food-sharing resistance! ………(Hold that result! What is a bloody “Cuisine Epiphany” pray? Ach, ye noticed that yin, did ye? It means ye “had a food related revelation.” Ok, to put it in your terms, “ye found oot!” Oh, right, just like I said in the first bleeding place, then? Eh, weel no, no’ really, weel sort o’, in fact,…….Aye!)…….. Grumps crumbled first and made me up a pancake. I settled down to scoff it with much licking of chops. Munch, munch, crunch! “Crunch?” Pancakes have never crunched before! Wait a minute, what's this new flavour? Tastes like meat, nice, mmmmmmmm “Crispy Duck and Pancakes” is it? I thought it was just a name! There’s never been Duck in my Duck pancakes before! I looked at Grumps in ecstatic disbelief! Ok, in the pure interest of research, I mooched a second pancake from Grumps and YES, MORE DUCK!! Mum, you Duck scoffing, toe-ragging, git! You downed the lot all by yourself, no wonder Grumps calls you The Hobbit! Wait till I see you, you’ll get some very pointed smuffs and a world shortage of Candy kisses until you make up my Duck deficit! Now how she did that, was, to say the least, unexpected! One day we had a “nice wee trip” to Fife in Mum’s car. I was so enthused, as usual, that I zonked before we left Glasgow and woke as the car pulled into the car park in Glenrothes. Mum picked up stuff she had ordered and we drove back…….(“We drove back?” Ok, Mum drove and I talked to her all the way back. “Talked?” Mmmmmm, wellllll, I admit that most of my conversation revolved around the theme of Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!)…….. When we got back home, it is “Home” now, she opened one of her packages and offered me a strange, pink object. I sniffed it, played with it, danced around it, not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do with the bloody thing! I finally decided to lick it, interesting, mmmmmm, try chewing it, mmmm nice, leading to an enjoyable scoff. I looked up at Mum, she said “It’s a Duck’s foot!” Aha! I always knew that the “ birdies” in the loch at Drumpellier Park were part of a menu! Mum had played about with the foot before she gave it to me, not believing it actually was a foot! Mum, it's like what happened when you realised these things were, “What it said on the tin!” Just like when she discovered what she thought were just triangular chews really were Pig’s ears! Granny’s opinion of the Chicken and Duck feet was exactly the same as her reaction to my Dried Sprats, “Yuck, get thae bloody things oot the hoose, they’re bowfin’!”……….(Grumps, translation please, was that Gaelic? Eh no, it's was deepest Glesga’ for “Please remove these malodorous items from my abode!” It was said, you might wish to know, with the implied threat that, if the said task was not undertaken with alacrity, then swift and summary punishment will follow! Eh? Mmmmm? Ok! Grumps? Another translation please, was THAT Gaelic? Nope it was Posh for, “Get them oot quick or A’ll clout yer lug!” Grumps, trans….oh, forget it!)……….
And so my life got back to normal, with going to Grumps’ house, glomming treats from Auntie Maureen and sitting on Auntie Steph’s feet so she can’t go into the kitchen without me! There are trips to Troon beach, walkies up at Cathkin Braes and Drumpellier. Mid-week at Granny’s, dedicated to victimising the cat, games with Becky and twisting Gordon round my paws. Unfortunately, my appearance at Granny’s often comes immediately after said walks in the aforementioned places, all of which contain ample means for getting me dirty………(Oh aye blame Grumps! I suppose it’s me wha pushes ye intae aw’ that glaur, is it? Well I’m only a wee innocent puppy and YOU’RE supposed to be looking after me and keeping me out of trouble. Oh, aye an’ how am A supposed tae dae that, ya bourach? If there’s a muddy dub or a pile o’ horse/fox/cow (delete as appropriate) shit, you’re straight intae it, ya wee minger? Grumps, pal, it's your job to take the blame, I’m far too cute to be guilty! Aye you dae the crime an’ A get the blame! Bugger the blame, I get the SHOWER!!!)………. As you may have gathered from that exchange, Granny gets less than pleased if I’m deficient in the cleanliness department! So it's shower time! She tries to con me but she gives the game away by opening the toilet door then, thinking that “I came up the Clyde in a barrel”, by saying, “Caaaandy, moan an’ get a weeties.” I pad out, spot the open door and perform a perfect U-turn and head back into the front room. “Candy, come!” Yeah, that’ll be shining bright! “Candy, NOW!” Stretch, yawn and slouch into my bed. At this point, Granny tends to lose her rag and, knowing what's good fir me, I allow myself to be dragged to the shower. It's not too bad, as long as the water stays off my face but I put on my best “Poor Put-Upon Pomsky” look. On one notable occasion, Granny, at this point, left me to fetch the shampoo, so it was Colditz time! I got my nose in the shower door and made good my escape, unfortunately, I had escapee companions in the form of lots of water, not all of which was clean. I had enough sense to stay put while she dried me and mopped up the overspill and paw prints. Next came the hilarious lobby chase, where she pursues me up and down with the hair drier, I pretend not to like it but it’s fun getting her to run after me? Oh I’m such a tease!......(Bet that’s no’ whit Granny ca’s ye! Well, no, she usually starts with “Candy, YA WEE…………….!)………After running rings round her I give her a doggie bow, stick out my tongue and give her my “ Cheeky crappie” look, which usually gets her laughing and me off with anything! ………(See, Grumps, it's all Peopleology, at which we Pomskies are the masters!)……..
Then it's back home with Mum for the weekend. I love my extended family, or should I say, treats sources. Mum and I have settled down in our new pad. Especially since she built me a Candy observation platform at the front bedroom window. I can lie there and nosey at everything going on in our street. It also allows me comfort while I have to look out for belated Grumpses! (Whit di ye mean by that? Well, Grumps, my boy, you have been quite irregular of late. I sit there, inspecting every car coming into the street and greet every one not yours with a disgruntled smuff. Aw’ that’s nice, di ye love yer Grumps ma wee pal? Of course I do and it's nothing about the treats and tickles at all, really. MUCH!)……….My only complaint is that Mum sometimes forgets to turn off the radiator and I get hot flushes in my nether regions……(Hmmmmm? Oh, ok, that wid be “Bum” tae you! Right, as I was saying…..) I allow her to pay the mortgage and buy the food BUT as it says on the name plate Grumps bought for me “Taigh Candaidh!”………(Ok, Grumps, you’d better translate, come on, there’s a good boy, you know you want to! Ok ya sarcastic wee fluff ball, it means, as ye very weel ken, Candy’s Hoose!)
Candy and Grumps
Would moving house mean I wouldn’t see Alisha, our elderly neighbour, who could flash a set of gums more fearsome than any canines and whose language was bluer that the tracery of veins in her red cheeks! ….........(Just a minute you! “A tracery of veins?” Stop all the poetic stuff and just type what I’m telling you, right? And stop muttering. I don’t know you, just can’t get the Grumpses these days……..)….. I would be allowed out in the front garden and Alisha would throw a treat out of her window to me. Now that’s a game I was very happy to play. If she delayed the kick-off, I gently reminded her of my presence by barking and jumping up at her fence. So, was my whole world going to change? Would I still be able to go to Grumps’ house, would I still see Granny? Mum assured me that I would, so I settled down, my mind comforted greatly but over the next few months, comfort was a decreasing rarity!
At first it was fun, Mum would bring in sheets of cardboard and fold them into boxes. I thought they were small houses so I’d take up residence, only to be promptly evicted! I’d then play the game of “Mum puts stuff in and Candy takes it out!” I loved this game but the joy was very, very, very one-sided! As was the pleasure of tearing off the tape Mum left on the boxes. Sheesh, some folk are just very hard to please! Gradually all our cosy furnishings disappeared until we were left with only my bed, a Winnie the Pooh rug….. (Will yer Maw ever grow up? Oh! Listen to Mr Mature here! You like to pretend you’re Peter Pan, whizzing down the tracks on your Mountain Bike, with Mum and I in your wake, my wee paws just a blur trying to keep up. Ah, but where are you when it gets to the old climbing back up bit? I rest my case!)…….and two rickety old camp chairs. It didn’t feel like home any more and was, as a Mum put it, “A wee bit sad an’ dreich hoose!”
Eventually I was taken over to live with Granny, while Mum made the move. I did not see Mum often over the following weeks, which made me sad, so I consoled myself with terrorising the cat! Coochie and I have reached an understanding to tolerate each other….(Coochie! Granny’s got either no taste or a great sense of humour!)…...now that doesn’t stop us trying to get one over, such as nicking each other’s grub or locking them out of the front room. Once he pushed the door closed in front of me, l got up on my hind legs and thrust 20 kg of Pomsky onto it, bursting it open. I walked over to the settee, jumped up and gave moggy features my smuggest look! He decided that if he couldn’t keep me out, he’d try keeping me in. Mmmmmmmm? Bad idea pussy! He laid himself across the door as a feline draft excluder. I walked over to him, looked at the door, looked at him and took the only sensible action open to a thwarted Pomsky, I sat on him! The wrath of judgement descended upon him!.....(“Judgement?” Yes, welllllllll, really, if you want to be pedantic, it was my bum!)….The only time we combine in joint action is when Granny’s carving up the Sunday chicken or roast beef, if we sit behind her in the kitchen and subject her to enough, suggestive staring, she will toss the occasional tasty piece over her shoulder for the quickest on the mooch……(Tasty piece? How would you know? They disappear doon yer gob without touchin’ the bloody sides! Yer taste buds wid hae tae be on steroids tae even catch a whiff o’ the meat! Now, now, Grumps, be a good lad and just type, remember, I do the funnies!)……On the subject of Mooch, I have been training Gordon, Mum’s brother, to give me good night treats. At approximately 11:00 he goes to his room and gives me a treat, then we both go off to bed. One night I dropped off early…..(Ye’d probably been Grumpsed earlier with hikes ower the Braes! Oh, listen to the athlete, I’ve seen you waddling up the hills, while I’m off exploring. Auntie Steph shopped you, by the way, saying that YOU flake out in your chair, after you’ve dropped me off at Granny’s. She says that YOU’VE been CANDIED!)…..My internal clock struck TREAT, I woke up and found the place in darkness. They’d all buggered off to bed, leaving this poor Pomsky treatless. I rattled the gate, used to stop me getting into Gordon’s room, to raid Coochie’s bowl. This did not provide the desired result so I went to the next level of attention getting. I found one of my water bottles and started crunching off the lid. Ever since my first night in Granny’s house I’ve loved crunching plastic bottles but this one did not have enough treat bearing decibels! As Bugs Bunny would say, “You know, this means war!” I went for my ultimate weapon, my squeaky pig! I oinked up and down the lobby floor, like a parading porcine piper, squeaking Piggy, till they were all up! Despite the swearing, I fixed Gordon with my most penetrative stare but uptake, there was none! I went all out with the less than subtle lick of my chops and a pathetically raised paw, still nobody in! It was Granny who first plumbed the mystery of my behaviour, “Gordon! The wee bugger’s waantin’ her 11 o'clock treat!” My gob received said confection and sleep, well, for me at least, was cosily resumed.
My best pal over at Granny’s is Becky, a grey pooch about my size, with an unfortunately covetous eye for my toys!……( Grumps! You’re doing it again! Sorry, Your Royal Pomskyness!)…..We would go for walks and play and fight in the back garden. Then, one day we had a big fall out! Well, I wanted the stick, it was a special stick, much better than all the other sticks lying around! It was my “precious stick and I wants it!”…. ( Grumps? What the hell are you Tolkien about?)…..Well, we still went for walks but our noses pointed in different directions and we ignored each other for ages! It took the intervention of a third party to break the huff. We were strolling back through the woods when we realised we were not alone, our duo had become a trio! There between us was a red doggie with a very bushy tail. Both our noses spotted the intruder’s identity before our eyes, we both turned on him, but he’s foxed off, if you’ll pardon the expression!
Mum, at last, said she’d take me back home. We went after our usual discussion about who sits in the pilot’s seat in her car but I did not recognise the route. Then she pulled into a road that still looked like a building site, which in fact it was. She opened a black door and showed me in to a small hall. I ran up the stairs, as I had always done in our old house, when I got up I was shocked! Mum, what have you done? Where’s the rest of our house? There was only 2 rooms and a toilet! Where’s the kitchen? We're we going on an extreme diet? I padded down the steep stairs and looked at her in disbelief. She opened another door and showed me a lounge……( Grumps, “a lounge?” What the Donald is a Lounge? The “Front Room” tae you. Thought you’d want tae be a wee bitty posher seein’ it wis yer new hoose. It's not me, I can do posh but we’ve, as you would say, “Nae chance!” with Mum! “Candy where’s you?” “ I’m down here in the lounge?” She’d never find me!)……leading into a kitchen! There was a set of doors leading onto a reasonable sized garden. It should have been great but the place was filled with all those damn boxes that made the last weeks in the old house so miserable! I padded around looking for some comfort but I found very little. Mum had put my bed down in a corner of the front room……..( short pause to stick tongue out at Grumps! Hmmmmmmf wee, cultureless, Irish mutt………) …..but I just could not settle. Would we ever be cosy again, no curtains, boxes everywhere and sterile white walls, Mum why?
Mum took me back to Granny’s house for a few days while she went to sort out the new house. When we went back a lot of the boxes had disappeared, some out to the dump, some upstairs into the spare room, which Mum called a “Glory hole!” On the first morning, Grumps arrived to take me out! I’d missed him a lot so it was all tail, body, let's face it, everything wagging and demanding his entry fee, 2 treats and an extended tummy tickle. He took me out a walk and it dawned on me that I knew this place. Yip, Grumps used to walk me here from his house. He used to babble on about “new houses” but I was too busy sniffing to listen to him doing his usual prattle!........(Ya cheeky wee bugger, whit dae ye mean “his usual prattle?” It's embarrassing, you talk away, making up silly songs and rhymes! I have to pretend to be interested in a pile of horse s……., well, we’ll leave that bit, if there’s anyone about! Then there was that time at the crossing, “What do we do?” So I sit, then it’s, “Now look for Mot-mots! Lilly told you that Mot-mots want to eat Pomskies!” Now THAT is embarrassing enough BUT the looks you were getting from the old lady behind you was pitiful! Eh, oh, mmmmmmmmm, prattle is it? I don’t know, ye make up stories an’ naebudy likes…………………)……..Now if we walked here, we can’t be far from Grump’s house! Things were starting to look up! We were also near Cathkin Braes, so walkies would be much more fun. We also found a nice route near the house as well, so things might not be too bad.
Gradually Mum got our house in order and some level of comfort was restored in out lives. Grumps says that our walks from the house have 3 paces, Walkies, Draggies and Breakies! Now I’d like to argue this slander but it does have a very small basis in truth……..( “Small basis in truth?” Aye right, oh aye ye’re aw’ sniffs, raised tail an’ Pomsky swagger on the way oot! As long as we’re goin’ away frae the hoose yer fine but the instant we turn back, suddenly the heid’s doon, the tail’s atween yer legs an’ every bluidy blade o’ gress needs tae be sniffed in minute detail! Ye need tae be dragged tae get ye tae move. Well a young doggie has to understand and explore her environment! Whit about the change o’ pace frae purposeful march tae arthritic crawl? Weeell a doggie gets tired with all that exercise! And when we get to yer hoose, ye clamp on the brakes! A hae tae pull yer lead, pullin’ up yer ruff roond yer lugs, while ye lock yer front legs an’ lean back on yer hurdies! This impasse is only broken if yer allowed tae slouch up the street, doon the lane intae yer back gairden, where ye demand bein’ let off the lead. I need to do a “Warm Down” and stretch after exercise, you should know that! Oh aye an’ yer love o’ the Great Ootdoors comes tae a very abrupt end if ye hear the slightest noise associated wi’ grub! Hmfff, I’ll strongly object to that, when I can think of some credible excuse!)……..
Talking about food, I received a cuisine epiphany while I was at Grump’s house. Auntie Steph had made Crispy Duck and Pancakes for lunch one day. I loved this, Mum makes it too and gives me a couple of pancakes and Hoisin sauce, yum! I sat and did my “Look at the poor starved doggie” impersonation, moved from Grumps to Steph to try to wear down their food-sharing resistance! ………(Hold that result! What is a bloody “Cuisine Epiphany” pray? Ach, ye noticed that yin, did ye? It means ye “had a food related revelation.” Ok, to put it in your terms, “ye found oot!” Oh, right, just like I said in the first bleeding place, then? Eh, weel no, no’ really, weel sort o’, in fact,…….Aye!)…….. Grumps crumbled first and made me up a pancake. I settled down to scoff it with much licking of chops. Munch, munch, crunch! “Crunch?” Pancakes have never crunched before! Wait a minute, what's this new flavour? Tastes like meat, nice, mmmmmmmm “Crispy Duck and Pancakes” is it? I thought it was just a name! There’s never been Duck in my Duck pancakes before! I looked at Grumps in ecstatic disbelief! Ok, in the pure interest of research, I mooched a second pancake from Grumps and YES, MORE DUCK!! Mum, you Duck scoffing, toe-ragging, git! You downed the lot all by yourself, no wonder Grumps calls you The Hobbit! Wait till I see you, you’ll get some very pointed smuffs and a world shortage of Candy kisses until you make up my Duck deficit! Now how she did that, was, to say the least, unexpected! One day we had a “nice wee trip” to Fife in Mum’s car. I was so enthused, as usual, that I zonked before we left Glasgow and woke as the car pulled into the car park in Glenrothes. Mum picked up stuff she had ordered and we drove back…….(“We drove back?” Ok, Mum drove and I talked to her all the way back. “Talked?” Mmmmmm, wellllll, I admit that most of my conversation revolved around the theme of Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!)…….. When we got back home, it is “Home” now, she opened one of her packages and offered me a strange, pink object. I sniffed it, played with it, danced around it, not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do with the bloody thing! I finally decided to lick it, interesting, mmmmmm, try chewing it, mmmm nice, leading to an enjoyable scoff. I looked up at Mum, she said “It’s a Duck’s foot!” Aha! I always knew that the “ birdies” in the loch at Drumpellier Park were part of a menu! Mum had played about with the foot before she gave it to me, not believing it actually was a foot! Mum, it's like what happened when you realised these things were, “What it said on the tin!” Just like when she discovered what she thought were just triangular chews really were Pig’s ears! Granny’s opinion of the Chicken and Duck feet was exactly the same as her reaction to my Dried Sprats, “Yuck, get thae bloody things oot the hoose, they’re bowfin’!”……….(Grumps, translation please, was that Gaelic? Eh no, it's was deepest Glesga’ for “Please remove these malodorous items from my abode!” It was said, you might wish to know, with the implied threat that, if the said task was not undertaken with alacrity, then swift and summary punishment will follow! Eh? Mmmmm? Ok! Grumps? Another translation please, was THAT Gaelic? Nope it was Posh for, “Get them oot quick or A’ll clout yer lug!” Grumps, trans….oh, forget it!)……….
And so my life got back to normal, with going to Grumps’ house, glomming treats from Auntie Maureen and sitting on Auntie Steph’s feet so she can’t go into the kitchen without me! There are trips to Troon beach, walkies up at Cathkin Braes and Drumpellier. Mid-week at Granny’s, dedicated to victimising the cat, games with Becky and twisting Gordon round my paws. Unfortunately, my appearance at Granny’s often comes immediately after said walks in the aforementioned places, all of which contain ample means for getting me dirty………(Oh aye blame Grumps! I suppose it’s me wha pushes ye intae aw’ that glaur, is it? Well I’m only a wee innocent puppy and YOU’RE supposed to be looking after me and keeping me out of trouble. Oh, aye an’ how am A supposed tae dae that, ya bourach? If there’s a muddy dub or a pile o’ horse/fox/cow (delete as appropriate) shit, you’re straight intae it, ya wee minger? Grumps, pal, it's your job to take the blame, I’m far too cute to be guilty! Aye you dae the crime an’ A get the blame! Bugger the blame, I get the SHOWER!!!)………. As you may have gathered from that exchange, Granny gets less than pleased if I’m deficient in the cleanliness department! So it's shower time! She tries to con me but she gives the game away by opening the toilet door then, thinking that “I came up the Clyde in a barrel”, by saying, “Caaaandy, moan an’ get a weeties.” I pad out, spot the open door and perform a perfect U-turn and head back into the front room. “Candy, come!” Yeah, that’ll be shining bright! “Candy, NOW!” Stretch, yawn and slouch into my bed. At this point, Granny tends to lose her rag and, knowing what's good fir me, I allow myself to be dragged to the shower. It's not too bad, as long as the water stays off my face but I put on my best “Poor Put-Upon Pomsky” look. On one notable occasion, Granny, at this point, left me to fetch the shampoo, so it was Colditz time! I got my nose in the shower door and made good my escape, unfortunately, I had escapee companions in the form of lots of water, not all of which was clean. I had enough sense to stay put while she dried me and mopped up the overspill and paw prints. Next came the hilarious lobby chase, where she pursues me up and down with the hair drier, I pretend not to like it but it’s fun getting her to run after me? Oh I’m such a tease!......(Bet that’s no’ whit Granny ca’s ye! Well, no, she usually starts with “Candy, YA WEE…………….!)………After running rings round her I give her a doggie bow, stick out my tongue and give her my “ Cheeky crappie” look, which usually gets her laughing and me off with anything! ………(See, Grumps, it's all Peopleology, at which we Pomskies are the masters!)……..
Then it's back home with Mum for the weekend. I love my extended family, or should I say, treats sources. Mum and I have settled down in our new pad. Especially since she built me a Candy observation platform at the front bedroom window. I can lie there and nosey at everything going on in our street. It also allows me comfort while I have to look out for belated Grumpses! (Whit di ye mean by that? Well, Grumps, my boy, you have been quite irregular of late. I sit there, inspecting every car coming into the street and greet every one not yours with a disgruntled smuff. Aw’ that’s nice, di ye love yer Grumps ma wee pal? Of course I do and it's nothing about the treats and tickles at all, really. MUCH!)……….My only complaint is that Mum sometimes forgets to turn off the radiator and I get hot flushes in my nether regions……(Hmmmmm? Oh, ok, that wid be “Bum” tae you! Right, as I was saying…..) I allow her to pay the mortgage and buy the food BUT as it says on the name plate Grumps bought for me “Taigh Candaidh!”………(Ok, Grumps, you’d better translate, come on, there’s a good boy, you know you want to! Ok ya sarcastic wee fluff ball, it means, as ye very weel ken, Candy’s Hoose!)
Candy and Grumps
About the Author
Edinburgh-born Roger McKillop is a retired Sports Studies lecturer. He has been writing poetry in Scots for many years and has had his work published in The Scots Magazine. His pen name is Roger Ceann Maol Beag, which means Wee Roger with the Bald Head!