After lengthy discussions, my long-suffering husband agreed to the search for a cockerpoo puppy, and it was to be my birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.
As luck would have it, I found a litter in Pershore, near Evesham and, as we have grandparent duties on Wednesdays in Worcester, it looked like the stars were aligned! I would have the summer to get to know our fur baby and get him trained before the Cotswold winter was upon us.
I took my two grandchildren to help me choose and enjoy cuddles with our new boy, then we left having arranged to collect ‘Herbie’ at nine weeks old.
When the day came, the poor breeder suffered some sort of domestic crisis and asked her brother to step in and hand over our puppy. The puppy was popped straight on my lap in the car in his own blanket and some paperwork and off we went. Ten minutes down the road, I had a call from the breeder to say we had been given the wrong dog! We turned back and the dogs were swapped with the paperwork. I soon realised that the chap I had chosen was much bigger and bouncier than the poor little thing I had returned!
I have to say that Herbie is simply a star. Potty training is taking time (thank heavens for solid floors) but he comes to my call, shakes hands and loves a game of tug. He is either under my desk (in a basket he has chosen) or under Bill’s desk with his toys.
This week we visited the vet for Herbie’s last injections so from Monday he will be all set to go out on a lead. I cannot wait to show him around.
