Who said three is a crowd?

Today’s Much Love Monday is coming to you with a little RHCP soundtrack.

This is one band I never get tired of, mainly because I’ve grown up with them. I was young and giddy when they were young and giddy. I was pensive and melancholy when they were pensive and melancholy. They’ve had a couple of off albums but the rest are pure joy. Let’s not talk Stadium Arcadium and remember how good I’m With You is. Hands-down favourite band ever. Tomorrow, I might do my top ten Chili tracks.

Anyway… so why will three not be a crowd?

Because, on Saturday, I am getting a new addition to the household. Please welcome Heston!

Heston is the little boy on the left.

A while ago, my very, very goodhearted friend had taken one of her four lovely doggies to the vet. When she was there, the vet received a call to say that someone had found a box of very young puppies. My friend had decided she couldn’t leave them, so she took them all home. The seven babes in the wood were hand-reared by a team of three very dedicated people. Two girls died – not surprising given that the pups were only a couple of days old. And of the five left, one lady had two of the boys.

My friend had asked me to put them on a Facebook page for ladies in France, which I did. 24 hours later and there’d been lots of ‘they’re lovely, but we have five already’ and I was beginning to think the boys wouldn’t find a home.

Then, Saturday afternoon, Verity called.

“Neil says I can have one!” she said.

We’d already had a discussion in her kitchen the night before about which were cuter and how sad it was. She has three dogs already: Dillon, her spaniel, and Barnaby and Lola her beautiful, beautiful German shepherds. I’ve got two – Tilly and Molly, although Molly will be going back to the UK in a few weeks.

“Wow!” Yay! Home for one.

“He says I can have one if he can call it Charlton.”

Okay. Men are weird. They have conditions like this. My brother-in-law would only have a kitten I hand-reared if he could call it Clint instead of Olly (a.k.a Wobbly Bob) and so I can accept this. Charlton are a Championship football team in London, and I’m guessing Neil’s gone for that.

“No problem.” said I.

“And if you have the other one.”

“Oh. Okay.” I said.

I’m a lot easier to convince than Neil. It took 24 hours and a name change for him. It took two seconds and a polite request for me. I’m easy like that.

“I could call mine Heston.”

I know it’s not what Neil is going for, but Charlton and Heston – it’s too cute. Plus, great names for little boy dogs. And a tribute to Heston Blumenthal to boot.

And so a deal was struck. Verity has had a playdate already. I had to forego that option as I was working, but I cannot wait until next Saturday when Master Heston will become doggie number three here.

Noireau will like it, because he’ll have a wriggly little puppy to play with. He likes to jump on Molly and Tilly, but they’re not very playful in return. I suspect Heston will be a good target.

Tilly won’t like it at first, but then I’ve got real concerns about her when Molly leaves. Tilly’s always had another dog to be the boss of her. First there was Saffy and then Molly. Molly is a good boss, since she never pinches Tilly’s food and she doesn’t interfere with her. However, Tilly is a nervous little dog used to being at the bottom of the pecking order. She went for Noireau when Noireau tried to get on my lap and she thought he was coming for her space. She’s not going to find it easy being elevated to top spot and I suspect she’d do a lot more nervous barking and panic about how she was going to keep everything safe here. Having a puppy she can train to respect her (or that I can!) yet who’ll be her back-up and security guard and bodyguard might make things a lot easier. I hope.

Now we suspect Heston is a lab x collie – so he could be big. He could be bouncy. He’s bound to be bright as a button given his mongrel status and bright-as-button parentage. He’s going to need training and obedience and games. Hooray. I’m looking forward to it. Tilly was six when she arrived here. She’s not so good at being trained, though she will sit for a treat and give a paw (because a treat is involved…) and she’ll chase things now where as she just wanted to chase chickens when she arrived. But she’s not blessed with brains, cute as she is. Years of ‘pedigree’ breeding have left her with spaniel traits a-go-go. Greedy, possessive, jealous, a hoarder, submissive weeing, nervous barking. Unless you train a spaniel early, it will steal food, get on tables, bury bones. She has good traits too – she’s a very merry and loyal little dog and is generally very, very happy. She’s not well socialised, with dogs or with people, and nothing I can do with her now will really conquer all of that.

And so I’m just hoping she doesn’t teach Heston any bad tricks. She can teach him to be good on walks – she’s fabulous on a lead. And that’s about it. Bless her. Much Love to my little Tilly Popper who also ended up here through misfortune. I will never understand how anybody could leave an animal. But then I’m far too sentimental!

So Much Monday Loveliness to little Heston. Let’s hope by this time next week I have photos to show you and no horror stories!

Pam’s Poetry Corner will return anon.