Old people and Dogs.

What? Late? Don't be silly.

But I have a somewhat genuine excuse this time. I was making old people happy with my Aunt and her dog. No seriously, I really was.

My Aunt (let's just call her Kay) came to me with the idea a couple weeks ago. She'd seen an add in the church bulletin for ''Pet Therapy'' down at local nursing home, and thought it was a brilliant idea. Only problem was that she needed someone to hold her dog, benjy, in the car. So that's were I come in as the somwhat willing volunteer.

Now, I know I sound kinda selfish in saying ''somewhat willing'' volunteer. But trust me, you don't know Benjy. He's not exactly one of those tiny fluffy white puppies that stare at you with their golden brown eyes. Oh no. As Kay calls him, he's a typical little boy. Scruffy black and brown hair, less than a foot tall, and some sort of terrier (possibly austrailian) you wouldn't think he was capable of any mischief. But trust me, that dog can bark. Loudly. Never snap or bite, just bark. Loudly. And a lot.

Kay is one of those people who is a real mommy to her pets; she loves him unconditionally, spoils him ,and refuses to see any fault in him no matter what anyone says. Telling her that bringing Benjy wasn't the best idea would be like telling a child that there favourite toy was infected and had to be burned along with every other of it's kind.

So, needless to say I was a bit apprehensive about bringing him. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the little guy. But I'd kinda been hoping we could bring my dog after the first trip, but I don't think they'd welcome us back with open arms if we left while trying to restrain a yelping mutt from killing anyone.

So anyway, the big day arrived, and Kay picked me up at my house before we went to pick up the little rascal. All was going well, he didn't seem to be overly comfortable on my lap, but at least he'd stayed quiet.

Until we got into town. And then suddenly, all hell breaks loose.

Just picture the scene. We're at a crossroads and the traffic lights are red. I have benjy in a headlock, as he howls and wringles, trying to get out of the metal box. Kay is beside me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on Benjy's head saying in a sickenly sweet voice ''There we go benjy, we're almost there. You've been a good boy haven't you? We're nearly there now.''

Thankfully, she soon pulled into the car park of the Nursing Home, snapped on his lead after a bit of grappling, opened the car door as I let him leap out of my arms and onto to the tarmac. Then, silence.
When Benjy had had a good sniff around, we made our way to the reception. After that it's just a blur of ''Aw, look at the wee thing it's so cute!'', large grey hands fumbling to touch, photos, and getting tangled in the lead.

I was surprised to see how amazed they all seemed. I was guessing that loads of people had been coming down. After all, it was in the church bulletin. In Ireland, if you want to get news out quick locally, just put it in the church bulletin. But we found out on our second visit (that time was with my dog) that we were the only ones that had come.

well, I guess that's all for this week. Toddle loo guys!
-teri