I used to have a doggy. 

The short version of the story (and the one that makes me cry less) is that I had a doggy, Ruby, with my ex boyfriend.  We got her from the rescue center, had her for 5 years and we split up I apparently relinquished all rights to seeing my dog (I say that partly in rage, partly through blinked back tears).  Ruby was my little princess and I absolutely doted on her beautiful little face. I miss her unbelievably and I haven’t seen her or eskimo kissed her wet little nose since October. It  breaks my heart on a daily basis that I can’t see her/probably won’t see her again, but to me she will always be my little princess and will never ever be replaced.

I think when it comes down to it you’re either a dog or a cat person.  When bloggers were lining up, I think I missed the “must have a cat” gene, and instead was given a cat allergy (for this reason I will never ever be a genuine blogger).  I’ve always been brought up around dogs.  We have a family dog (who’s still going strong, despite his greyness) and then I had Miss Ruby with my ex.  Moving into a house as a singleton when you’re used to being part of a “family unit” is hard, I won’t lie.  You go from busy-ness and laughter and having people depend on you, to opening the front door every night to an empty house and rattling around alone.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my house, my singleton life and the freedom and opportunity that it brings…

..but there’s been a doggy shapped hole left in my heart.  This was only furthermore cemented by watching Fleur (de Force)’s heartbreaking Vlog about losing her beloved Woof.  I sat in bed watching that Vlog and I sobbed, not only for Fleur and Mike and beautiful Woof, but also for Ruby.  I miss the routine that having an animal who depends on you gives, I miss having something to go home to and if I’m honest… nothing quite beats doggy cuddles, a wagging tail and someone who will love you unconditionally providing you supply them with food, water and belly tickles.

So then there was Ted.

Ted is a 9 week old Chihauhau.  He’s the “son” of my one of my cousins many, many Chihauhau’s (she has 7, she’s mental) and I fell in love with him on first sight.  I “officially” became Ted’s mummy on Friday night, and since then he’s kept my days full of cuddles, smiles, taking cute pictures of him and picking up of puppy wee and poo – laverly. 

Ted is full of character and I can see him growing up to be a cheeky chappy indeed – but more so than anything else, he’s already a complete mummies boy.   I hope I don’t become one of *those* people who become their pet (I can’t handle people who’s Facebook profile picture is of their pet) but I have found that there is an unrivalled love of cute puppy pictures on Instagram.  With this in mind I will endeavour to keep you updated with Ted’s progress and will probably be tweeting to say “OH MY GOD THE LITTLE MONKEY HAS CHEWED MY FAVOURITE LIPSTICK.”

But yes, thats Ted, the new man in my life and provider of cuddles for the forseeable future.