Monday 22nd October

 Steve is off to work, Megan is off to school, and I’m home alone with the pup. I am feeling a bit rough, so dose myself up on aspirin just in case. I’m feeling a bit nervous about my first day alone with him. It doesn’t help that I’m having great difficulty remembering his name. I know it begins with a ‘B’, but is it Byron, Bronte (that’s Megan’s fault, that was one of her suggestions for a name) or Brady? So for most of the day it’s “Come here…er…you”. I find that the word used most, in fact the only word that seems to come out of my mouth all day, is “No”. He wants everything he can’t have, or to be more exact, he wants to chew everything he can’t have. Fancy a lovely toy bone Brody? No thanks, I’ll have the corner of this lovely wooden table. Fancy a squeaky ball Brody? No thanks, your plants are doing nicely thank you. I do as the puppy training manuals say, and take him out after every drink of water, after every meal, after every sleep, and about every half hour. So in fact, I spend most of my day outdoors. Coughing. I’m definitely coming down with something. It’s soon time to pick Megan up from school. How will this pan out? I put on his little collar (he’s not keen), pick him up, one-handedly lock the front door, again dexterously unlock and open the car door and plonk him on the passenger seat. A quick dash round to my side, and then use the lead to attach him to the passenger seat belt lock. You can’t possibly climb on me or fall into the passenger footwell now boy. Or can you? Actually he is very good and doesn’t attempt an escape. Just whines all the way. Once at school, I perform the reverse of what I’d attempted to get him into the car, and go to wait for Megan. He’s like a child magnet. I am soon surrounded by a rather large circle of bodies and hands reaching out to pat and smooth Brody. He is coping well, he seems to like the attention. I try to warn of puppy razor sharp teeth - if anybody chose to ignore my warnings, they dealt with their pain quietly. I’m surprised that he hasn’t struggled out of my arms, so tell him he is being very good. “Good boy B….er….good boy!” It has been a quiet but stressful day. I have to go through it all again tomorrow. “Done any training with him today?” asks Steve when he gets home. Training? Isn’t it enough that I have survived the day? What have we done? He has another good night.