And for Christmas we'll mostly be having ....silence.
After three weeks in the company of my father Emmie has lost her voice. She just doesn't bark. At all.
This erstwhile noisy boisterous pooch is utterly quiet and as a consequence behaved.
At the start of December I spent a week away in the U.S. for work and P had a few work-related overnights too, so we shipped 'tonnes of fun' up north to stay with grandad in the country. We were reunited briefly in Chipping Campden for my birthday weekend and again now at Chez Grandee for Christmas. She returns with us smoke-ward tomorrow.
Anyway, after bearing Emm's woofs for about a week, he could stand the incessant yapping no more and went out and bought a collar to cure the critter of her, ehem, opinion. The fiendish device squirts water at her chin with every tiny whimper -- which, it would seem, is a tad unpleasant. And after only a few soggy days the liver and white one 'got it' and speaks no more.
Pavlovian bliss.
We are now in a more advanced stage of dog training. Not to eat all of nephew Charie's toys or to steal hams, joints and rashers from the kitchen work-top..
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