Fido’s Fat Farm

The suggestion has been made that I rename my business from simply ‘Love dogs’ to ‘Love dogs health spa and retreat’.  I personally favour ‘Fido’s Fat Farm’.  The reason?

Roxy, the Beth Ditto of blue roan Cocker spaniels came to stay for a week … and without any change to her diet lost 2 whole kilos.  Around Tuesday I could see the beginnings of a waist as well as a new enthusiasm for her walks.  Around Thursday there were also the beginnings of some definition around her shoulders, a definite bounce to her gait and she became less bolster-like.  (Actually, in the Philippines a bolster is known as a “hotdog pillow” or natively “tandayan”).

Anyhoo, by the time I took her home to her mum she was definitely less Roly-Polys and more Rihanna … with the attitude to match.

That’s what two daily two hour walks do.

I think I have a new USP.  Or at the very least an additional one.

I now fancy myself as the Statue of Liberty for dogs:

“Give me your overweight, your unfit,
Your flabby masses, yearning to breathe free,
The flaccid pets of your over-indulgent homes,
Send these, the housebound, biscuit-obsessed, to me:
I lift thy lead beside my golden garden gate.

Sincere apologies to Emma Lazarus who will be turning in her grave.  Brooklyn will be resonating with ghostly “Oy vehs”.

Roxy returns to me for the weekend on Friday so I can foresee another kilo dropping.  However, only today did I spot her mum sneakily entice Roxy with a morsel of croissant outside a Cults coffee shop.  Yes, Claire, you thought you got away with it, but you cannot escape the Pooch Police.  Tut! Tut!

Oh, the bad habits I am sorely tested to reverse.

I’ll let it go this one time as Roxy has to undergo a small procedure tomorrow under sedation.  What better place to recuperate than here at ‘Love dogs canine convalescence’.

Roll on Fat Farm Friday.