Molly goes to choir, runs free and turns activist

I'm trying to kick (get it!) my shoe habit but an addiction is an addiction!

Pant, pant. Molly here. It’s been such a mad few weeks since my last doggie blog, the Wordsmith says I might have to split my adventures into two. I’m woofing away and as good as the Wordsmith is, she can only type so fast and is having a job keeping up with me. Quite honestly, we've been too busy doing things to write about them recently, but bear with us and we'll bring you up to speed as quickly as we can!

So , what have I been doing since we last met? What HAVEN’T I been doing, more like! So many new things have happened to me, my not-so-little tail is sore from wagging.

The Big News is that I can now run around without that leather strap cramping my style. The humans call it ‘free running’. I call it simply freedom.

The Wordsmith had to be observed letting me run around without being restrained for the first time to make sure I came back when called. Well, of course I was going to go back to her if it meant that next time I might be free to pursue my love of empty yoghurt pots and discarded bags of chips by going selectively deaf. The Wordsmith uses this squeaky hot dog thing to get my attention. She knows I don’t like it very much and bark at it when it’s lying around on the floor at home, but she also knows when she squeaks that, I’ll take notice and hope some treats are involved.

And so it was. Round and round the field they walked while I discovered puddles and grass and running and that other dogs aren’t always quite as playful as me. Boring snoring. It was all so exciting that I got a bit over-tired and had to have a lie down on the pavement on the way home from the park. I lay there for quite a while. I think the Wordsmith got a bit cross because she was hungry and needed food, and she gets a bit grumpy when she hasn’t eaten for a while, but I had to have a bit of a rest before the walk home. I kept hearing people walk past making ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhh’ noises, but the Wordsmith kept tugging that leather strap until eventually I got fed up and got up and we went home via the pork sandwich shop.

There I am lying down on the path out of the park, refusing to move. And the other picture shows me with my squeaky hot dog thing that looks good enough to eat, but isn't; I've tried!

That very same day, the Wordsmith decided to take me somewhere she goes every week where they stand up and sit down all the time and make noises they call musical in between. I think it’s a bit of a racket, but what do I know? Anyway, she calls it choir practice. Apparently, this Sheffield Folk Chorale is well known in these parts and is quite a good ensemble. They were a friendly bunch at least although I can’t speak for the music; it didn’t make me want to howl along, tbh. I think thrash metal is more my thing, but apart from one hearing on BBC6 Music the other day, it doesn’t get played in this house. Anyway, the Wordsmith took my blanket and my chew and my bunny toy to this church meeting room and got me all set up with a bowl of water and all I had to do was lie there with everybody looking at me while they sang songs and chatted about this and that and things called concerts. I think the Wordsmith got a bit worried when the conductor started playing his concertina (it’s an English concertina, apparently; looks like a squeezebox, but then what do I know? I’m only a dog!), but I thought it was magical and lay there looking so adoringly at him that he called me cute. That was it then; I was an angel for the rest of the evening and Auntie Janet even offered to take us home in her car. I had a great evening and the Wordsmith goes round singing to me now, changing some of the words to songs to include Molly and Mollster and Molly Bobs (“Molly Bobster, Molly Molly Bobster. Molly Bobster, Molly is a Bobs” is her current favourite. What the blazes a Bobs is I don’t know, but that’s what she likes to call me.) Don’t tell anyone; they might lock her up and I’d miss her.

We met up with Jackie from the Guide Dogs inspectorate the same day I went to choir. Instead of coming to the house, the Wordsmith took me to a supermarket I’d never been to before to meet her, and Jackie watched me mince around Morrisons, before taking me in a lift and then on a tram. We then sat in Costa coffee where I had a nice long lie down while they talked about my toilet habits (they call it ‘spending’; I thought that was something humans did with money, but they use it to talk about what doggies do with their bottoms. They’re weird, these humans) and how I like to chew at my lead when I’m meant to be walking along the road. All in all, Jackie was pleased with me and she still called me a nice girl. The Wordsmith told her I’m not that bothered about whether I please her or not. I understand that some dogs are really, really keen to do anything to make their keepers happy, whereas I really couldn’t care less. Jackie said I was my own person and she’s quite right; I’m independent by nature and that’s how it’s going to stay. I was disappointed not to go to the library this time in Hillsborough. We went there last time we came and I loved smelling all those books and lying down in the sun whilst the Wordsmith sat and looked at some books to borrow and take home with her. I never know where I’m going to end up when we go out of the front door!

Better go. The Wordsmith wants to go out and post a birthday card for her sister, then I understand we have a busy day ahead, going to something to do with the NHS then over to see Auntie Vanessa. I’ll tell you all about my trip Down South in another blog, but meanwhile, here’s a picture of me getting all activist at the last NHS rally. It’s non stop, you know, being a trainee guide dog!