Meet Millie, Everybody.

She also answers to Mills, Millimena, Belly and Puss.

She arrived on November 1st, and has already run me ragged.

I am totally exhausted.

Millie is a seven-and-a-half year old black labrador/Welsh collie cross,

who behaves like a seven-and-a-half months old pup.

She has a white chin and neck, bat wing ears, a permanently wagging tail,

stumpy legs (compared to Benno)

and needs to lose 2-3 kg weight.

But not yet.

First we must settle in.

Did I say bat wing ears?

And what about that big belly?

 Millimena, bless her, will never win ‘Most Beautiful Dog in Show’,

but that’s only because judges don’t award points for 

a big heart and sweet nature,

both of which she most definitely has. 

Millie insists on sleeping in my room.

Did I hear somebody say: 

"Be firm, start as you mean to go on?”

For how long can you listen to pitiful whimpers

and delicate scratches on the kitchen door, 

noises which reach you through closed doors, a stairwell

and thick carpets; noises that cut you

like red hot knives.

Ah well, Benno slept upstairs for years too.

“She fell for it”

“Let’s see what else I can get away with”.

This picture is rather misleading.

She is probably working out where else she would like to walk her new mistress.

We have already been out for early morning walks round the castle

 had romps in the garden which included gardener, who very kindly threw sticks,

afternoon walks in the fields,

and a wonderful, exhilarating game of tag and run with new four-legged friends.

The fact that this adventure happened to be in the middle of a hail storm

didn’t worry Millie at all.

You can see her obvious delight at her new freedom,

 the wide open spaces,

the water-logged meadows for splashing in,

the river for hunting,

the stiles to jump,

and the new friends to sniff.

She completely disgraced herself at the Vet’s where she was totally out of control; four other dogs were waiting for attention and she needed to greet them all. She also needed to greet all the veterinary nurses, the receptionists, the vets, and the cats in their baskets, dragging me, apologising madly, behind her on the lead. Luckily, everybody made allowances for her great excitement. I told her quite firmly that she was only with me 'on approval’ and that she’d be sent  back to the shelter if she didn’t behave, whereupon a general cry of “oh no, how sad, you can’t possibly” went up and I had to backtrack and promise to keep her. The Vet pronounced her reasonably fit but overweight, with just a little adjustment needed to her general condition. Next Wednesday she is going for a bath and brush up, we’ll see how kindly she takes to that. I have to admit that she is just a bit smelly and her coat could certainly do with some attention.

As for the various names she has? Well, Millie is her original name, which we have decided to keep. Belly, because I forget and call her Benno - halfway from Benno to Millie is Belly; this also suits her current shape. And Puss? That’s Beloved’s fault. How he comes to call her that, I have no idea, I hope he realises that he now has another dog in his household and that Millie is absolutely not a cat.