Friday May 4

Well, what a whirlwind of a week. Naughty Norman No Mates has been here for seven days but already it feels like seven years.

At least he travels in the car now without vomiting. He's got no choice as we are such big travellers, us.

He got to go and meet the top dog painter Nigel Hemming - because Mum was interviewing him and Dad photographing him and not because he was the artist's muse.

*Jealous* But then that was tempered by his first trip to see Dr John for his second puppy injection. Ah-ha - it's not all a bed of roses living here, mate.

 At least I still got to go swimming this week - Norman was allowed to watch because he's not yet (well, not QUITE) big enough to try and bellyflop in the pool - unlike SB, who is still banished to the car.

 I have firmly established my place at the top of the canine hierarchy, as you can see in this rather fetching photo of yours truly - even if I am looking a bit shy for the camera.

Friday April 27

I knew it. When I got the whiff of pussy c*t and puppy on Mum and Dad a couple of weeks ago, I feared the worst. And I was right.

A visit to Auntie Rachel’s in Derbyshire today

confirmed my worries.

Two of us went and three of us returned. SB

and me were in the back of the Tractor and

a bundle of fluff, that threw up periodically, sat on Dad’s lap in the front.

Thankfully, the cuckoo in the nest wasn’t a c*t but the next worst thing – an eight-week-old Golden Retriever who’s the size of a baby elephant.

He’s massive. I’ve never seen a puppy with such big paws – he can’t possibly be related to a svelte and streamlined example of the breed like me. Or even SB.

In fact, when it comes to the relations department, he’s seriously challenged. Coming from a litter of one, he hasn’t got any brothers or sisters. Which is why Mum and Dad have called him ‘Norman’ – as in ‘Norman No Mates’.

His shortage of siblings might also explain why he's already behaving as though he’s going to be top dog in his new home.

Not that there’s any chance of that – there won’t be a Norman Conquest on my watch.

Thursday April 26

This week's hydrotherapy was overseen by the lovely Emily, who I would have given eight out of 10 to had my break for freedom not been successful.

Mum did warn her I might bolt for it if she took her eye off the ball for a nano-second. That's all it took for me to escape my flotation harness and make a beeline for the toy cupboard.

I have to say, though, Green Octopus really wasn't doing it for me this week. Pink Piggy was definitely Toy of the Week and helped me make some particularly streamlined movements in the water. Emily was definitely impressed with my style I felt.

For some reason, I have this feeling of impending doom tomorrow but I just can't put my paw on why...

Friday April 20

Another double whammy of a trip to the vet's for my three-weekly Cartrophen injection combined with my weekly swimming session.

Mum is too tight to make separate journeys - something about rising fuel costs and tanker driver strikes but then how does that affect me?

Swimming this week was compered by Hannah, one of the two new girls at Hawksmoor.

I'll give her seven-and-a-half out of 10 for effort while I, on the other hand, scored 10 out of 10 for artistic impression as always.

Friday April 13

I'm gutted - today sure is a typical Friday 13th. One of my most favourite people in the WHOLE world, Aimee (and not Amy as I had previously assumed) at Hawksmoor Hydrotherapy Centre, is leaving for pastures new.

Last night was my last swimming session with her and I couldn't help but have a tear in my eye, which I explained away as a drop of pool water.

It all means I'm going to have to train up someone new but that's life I suppose. What's Hawksmoor's loss is Dogs Trust's new Loughborough centre's gain.

I signed a card Dad made up for her - so she can't forget me even if she tries - but I hope she thinks of me when she knocks back the bottle of vino I shelled out last week's pocket money for. Good luck, Aimee!

Tuesday April 10

Uh-oh. I smell trouble. First Mum and Dad came home whiffing of the 'C' word (C. A. T.).

Then just a few days later I'd be damned if they weren't smelling of puppy.

Does this mean we will be welcoming one (or more)?) new addition/s to our household?

I hope not. I am the main man, you know.

Friday April 6

Tuesday March 27

Well Mum is on a right high after spending a couple of days in Surrey with Jenny, her childhood friend .

Friday March 23

Here I am mid-stroke at last night's hydrotherapy session. I am now swimming for more than 10 minutes - with rest breaks, of course.

I think I'd do well in this event if there

was a canine Olympics. I was allowed

to take Green Octopus in the pool with me, which meant I got over-excited

and overdid it a bit. Dad came too, to

see how I've been getting on - a bit

like parents' evening at school. He took

my picture a lot so he must have been a

tad proud of me at least.

 I think I did well considering swimming

came hot on the heels of my Cartrophen injection at the vet's. Apparently the

lump on my paw has improved - but I now have a new one at the side of my pad. Both Dr John and Amy are

flummoxed by it.

And there was good news too for SB in

the colonic irrigation department - his

anal glands have shown a dramatic

improvement and he now only needs to

have then checked every two months.

Lucky boy.

Saturday March 3

Good news, good news. Trevor Tractor is mended and due back home this morning.

I can't wait to resume my daily trundle round the Hall Gardens, cricket club and church.

I've enjoyed limping to the top of the hill and back but the road is a tad wearing on my poorly paw and I'm bored of all those familiar smells now. Besides, the main - and over-powering - whiff is Devil Dog's and I can do without that foul odour blocking up my hooter.

Walkies NOW Mum!