So you really want to know more about me and my first week at home. Well, I must say I never thought these two legged friends would run around parks so often. Can you imagine, come rain or shine, they get up in the morning and the first thing they do is walk straight out into the garden and make me follow. It's cold, it's damp or even down-right wet, it's totally and utterly mindboggling ugly out there in the dark, but they obviously enjoy it. I myself prefer the warm comfort of the house.
Of course, standing or sitting outside the house at 6 a.m. waiting for one of the two legged fellows to go inside again gives me cold feet and you know what cold feet mean, don't you - well, I have to take a leak.
So when they are finally done with their excursion into the freshness of the morning and have settled down to playing with their teeth in that empty room where streams flow, then I can relax again. I quietly but quickly pop off into a nice warm corner and take a leak. Mind you, not that I really want to, but these cold feet...

I'm glad they appreciate that I no longer do my big business inside. I tried it for the first two days but the smell doesn't go too well with theirs and I think it's enough that they can't behave properly and crap under a tree like I do. So there is quite a bit of education to be done, I guess. Wonder if I ever get them to doing their stinking business outside the house?!

Every day is a learning experience. But my two legged friends are quite intelligent. I guess I could have drawn a shorter straw if you get my meaning. Take this as an example. When I want to be cuddled I simply walk off and then look at them from a distance. They then start saying COME! They kneel down to my level, try to coax me thinking that they are teaching me a new trick. The longer they have called COME the cuddlier they get when I decide to walk up to them. And man, are they happy when I eventually do walk up to them. I wonder what they did before they got me.

After COME I taught them to say SIT whenever I sat down. It's amazing. When I want to stop, I sit down and they are happy. Funny people. The only thing we really have to work on is that damn business of going WALKIES. I hate going out. Running about in the garden is fine. But WALKS. Who wants to walk that time of year? Is there any being on earth with half a brain that wants to go out in rain and sleet? And the hours they pick? Early in the morning -it's still dark. Midday. O.K., midday is not too bad. Evening. Well calling it evening is probably a euphemism, it's sometimes 1 a.m. Do you call that a civilized time for a walk? Well, I don't. My mother never went out that time of night. I mean being a model and all. I know what people think about models. But she never went out after dark. At least never as long as I was around!

My human friends got me an array of toys. Even friends from England brought something along for me. All that wooden and rubbery crap you can chew on. What a waste of money! I guess they are filthily rich or down-right stupid. I mean they should have asked me before they got the stuff. I could have told them to stuff it. I prefer their trouser legs, their chairs, the sofa any time. There are so many things in the house that I love to dig my teeth into, they shouldn't have bothered. By the way, I found out what the German word for enjoying a nibble is: AUS (or out) Any time I get a good hold of anything in the house, they shout AUS. I guess these people only know a couple of words, else they wouldn't repeat them over and over and over.
I've already admitted to not liking to walk in the dark, haven't I? Well, here is one more confession: I don't like walking amongst people. I hate all these legs. You never know when one is going to stamp right onto you. I just hate them. Cars are O.K. They whizz by, no problem. Saw a train today. Distance? Less then five feet. No big deal. They run on tracks. My people probably haven't realized yet, I think they were slightly nervous when we came to the station. Me? I was fine. As I said I hate people's legs, you never know which one will be the next in your back. Or worse, on your foot.

I do like dogs. Especially big ones. That's perhaps because I am a big one, too. At least on the inside. I know you wouldn't exactly call me a big dog but we dogs know. I just show them a paw and they are in awe! (There's a little Shakespeare in every dog, did you know?)
My neighbourhood is great. Across is a Labrador Lass, only eight weeks older than I am. Might be my type. Haven't seen the bird yet, she's supposedly on a Christmas vacation, but I had a good sniff at her gate. Could really be my type.
Share a fence with a Golden Retriever Lady, but she's much too old for me. She's close to graveyard age, I mean seriously, we're speaking seven or eight years I think.
My new garden There's a German Shephardess two lots away from mine. Nice, but not quite my type.
Then there is another Labradormix next door. I heard she had a bad childhood, lived in a home for some time and all. Not much to say about her, hardly ever meet her outside.
Last (and he definitely is least, too) there is that Boxer bloke across the street. I mean what can you say about a dog with no tail. Not to mention his face. Must have been in a bad fight. Probably lost it, too. (Bad joke, I know, but it was too tempting.)
Well I guess that's enough for a first week's comment, I mean I am not intending to write a book about myself. Next thing we have to get these humans through is New Years Eve. I heard them talk about big bangs and all that noise. I guess I'll have to play the coward again to make them feel better.

I'll tell you next week, how that went. And about Lena, my neighbour, the young Labrador chick on holiday. See you around.