My dog the racist

My dog is a racist. A curious statement granted, but a correct assumption nonetheless. Yoda, our little Jack Russell is the most timid of dogs. I don't think I can even adequately describe in prose how timid she is. To give an example, Carole was throwing out a piece of bubble wrap last week. But what do you do with bubble wrap? You pop it, it's an entirely instinctive and strangely pleasurable act. Unless you are Yoda. Upon hearing the first pop she bolted up the stairs ands hid underneath our bed. That's how timid she is.




But I digress. Why is she a racist? Because it has become apparent of late she views fellow dogs in one of two ways - with aggression or friendship. So, Poodles - friendship. Bulldogs - friendship. Springer Spaniels - friendship. Black Labradors however? Wuff, wuff, snarl, bark bark bark bark bark. Some dogs fetch sticks, others can crawl, some even roll over and play dead. Mine is a racist.



Xenophobic canines aside (words I never imagined I would write), the less frivolous side of tonights blog, of course, belongs to Luca. With another week having passed, I thought it best to present a photographic record of the week to illuminate all on his activities. The photo at the top is an irrelevance, but was taken outside my company's Peterhead base (I was up there for a series of meetings) which left me wondering how long such a nice view outside your workplace would take to become just another everyday image to which you'd be aware of but ultimately ignore? More interestingly, the picture directly above was taken of Luca in what is curiously one of his favourite surroundings - the Tesco supermarket cafe. I guess there is no accounting for taste, but he considers this a genuine treat.

This is in our bedroom, early on a Saturday morning as Luca (successfully, natch) convinced Carole and I that sleepy time was over and that his day was due to begin. The odd creature in the foreground (other than Luca...) is the boys favourite current toy. A £1.50 rubber spiky piggy. Of all my qualities the main one he has inherited is my desire for cheap tat.

The above image was taken during Aberdeen's semi final tie at Scotlands national stadium in Glasgow (Hampden Park), where I unfortunately took residence for the day. Great atmosphere, but a resounding 4-0 defeat is about as much fun as a fart in an elevator

With summer upon us, it was time for a new hat for Luca. Yes, that's a "Transformers" hat. You may not need many guesses as to which parent took him shopping that day.

The hat has rarely left his head since. The following day he wore it all day at nursery. When I removed it from his head that evening (under duress I might add) the top of his hair was so plastered to his head the style resembled that of a Newton Abby monk. Here he is again above, with hat on again of course, at Haddo House on Easter Sunday. We attended their annual "Easter Egg Hunt". As you can see, Luca's attempts at searching proved a little futile, so instead he proudly displayed a stick he found instead.

But there's a playground on site too, which of course offered him some recompense.

Time and time and time and time and time again...........

"Last shot Dad, I promise"

Finally, here he is above just before his Asthma Clinic appointment. Due primarily to the relief his inhaler has provided him (alongside various other methods and factors), the cough he's had almost his entire life has entirely disappeared. Our clinic appointment was designed to discuss his progress, as well as an opportunity for his parents to speak about any concerns. However, as I had asthma myself as a child I had few queries to air. The most interesting part of the appointment for me was the doctors record taking. Our formerly tiny mite now stands at an impressive 3ft 5.5 inches.

**Useless fact of the day - On average, a person produces half a litre of fart gas every day, distributed over an average of around fourteen daily farts**