Barley is my first ever Labrador and was born on 17th May 2001(the day before my birthday). She is the most gentle, cleverest
dog I have ever met, I love her to bits, so wanted to share her with everyone.
Homer my little brothers web page
Barley goes skiing!
As a pup she demolished the usual replaceable items such as cushions, shoes (she was so obsessive about inner soles, we were going to rename her Dr Scholl) kids toys, socks, knickers (she grew out of this perversion thankfully) and the ultimate disaster was the boyfriends (Steve) glasses.
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OK, so she's not always an angel...
This wasn't such a huge problem to me, but he wouldn't speak to me for 3 days as for some reason it was my fault the dog had ate them.
He obviously thought I had been rubbing lamb chops on them or something similar.
Had I known how anal he was going to be about it, I would have wrapped them in fillet steak along with the TV remote control, and personally fed them to her.
Toilet training was never an issue as we invested in a dog flap. The perfect tool for speedily training your young lab puppy, but unfortunately it was large enough for a baby elephant (child, adult, meter reader) to gain access.
We did realise after installing it that it would have probably been cheaper to remove half of the rear wall of the house with an angle grinder, add a layer of cling film to it, then put a sign up saying 'Enter here if you wish to rob us blind, but please wipe your feet first'
Killer Nails
Barley has the most horrendous doggy nails ever. She is normally very placid, but go anywhere near her talons and she is vile. I have tried no end of different nail clippers, she hates them, so has earned the name of ‘Barley Scissorhands’. She especially likes to drag them down your arm/leg/any part of your body slowly and painfully just to get a pat on the head. An early wake up call is always interesting with them – a couple of months back I was woken by a strange scratching on my head, only to find my eyelid split open, blood everywhere, and Barley with a gormless grin, and her eyes locked onto me pleading ‘Morning Mumsies, hey what’s for breakfast!!!’
The pain of this increases 10 fold when you go the beach. Try having a dogs nail dragged down your leg when it is covered in sand, you are freezing, wet and wearing a scrap of material. Once I go into the sea all hell lets loose. For some obscure reason she thinks it is unsafe for me to go any where near the water and proceeds to try out her lifesaving skills.
I have now taken to wearing a wetsuit in all weathers as a protective measure (looks a bit strange in the height of summer, but at least I can use it as an excuse not to expose my blubbery flesh to other holiday makers).
Barley is quite happy with this as she can carry out her life saving skills by dragging me out with the cord attached to the zip on the wetsuit. It wouldn’t be so bad if she left me go once she reached the waters edge, but for some reason she insists on dragging me half way up the beach to make extra sure I don’t venture back into the deathly tides.
I usually have to run along on my knees, covered in sand, squealing loudly and begging Barley to stop. Eat your heart out Pamela Anderson, I reckon they’ll be casting me for baywatch in this state.
