The Dog

I may have 'blogged' about this before but it really is something that I am very careful not to meet....

There's a really small dog that lives in the flat below me, I think it's the same breed of dog as a friend's back home, Crystabel. However the dog that lives downstairs does not share the temperment of my friend's dog. In fact, they're completely different. They might be the same size: small with massive eyes, but that's where the similarity stops.

Basically. Everytime I pass the people downstairs with the dog, they have to pick it up and hold it into their chest. If they hadn't done this every time, I would've lost at least a toe, if not an ankle, by now. It's mental, the dog is mental...scared of everything...which makes it MENTAL.

The other day I knock on the door (the people below are my landlord) and the dog comes tearing out, practically foaming at the mouth, yapping away. I had to pull my foot back pretty quickly, which in turn shocked me as I didn't realise my reactions could be that quick. The owner managed to pick up the dog which continued to yap away as I talked with my landlady. This is pretty much the scene everytime I have to speak to my lamdlord so they've even stopped apologising.

If the man and his dog are in the garden when I'm coming in, or going out, I have to wait until "Luna" is safely in the arms of a person before moving any closer to my destination-whether it's off of the porch step or through the front gate. This can happen many times throughout the weekend when we are all "at home". Thankfully as I work in the afternoon's and they work the mornings on weekdays, I don't meet Luna in person that often Monday to Friday, I only hear here through the door as I pass!

One Saturday evening a friend came round for dinner and we both left for her house as planned. On the way down the stairs the son of my landlord was coming up. I could hear the dog and my fear set in. The next thing I know both my friend and I are stood, backs against the wall, feet tucked in, like kids when they're about to be told off. We are the ones "cowering" as the lad walks past with the mental animal scrapping away in his arms. As soon as they've passed, we make a dash down the stairs laughing at how both of us were squished agaisnt the wall because of a minature dog, hilarious

I think the other day the landlord told me the dog doesn't like English...

Oh. Just so you know. I think I've found the closet way to make tea taste right. I've been using loose leaf recently and my housemate, when she left, left some dried milk powder. Just out of curiosity, to gauge whether to keep it or throw away the stuff (I'd also ran out of milk and didn't realise this until I'd made the tea, a regular occurence) I tested a teaspoon of the milk powder in a bid to still have a cuppa. Weirdly, it worked. I was pretty impressed with the outcome so have been happily making cups of tea with loose leaf tea, a teaspoon of milk powder and a teaspoon of demerara sugar ever since. This is a total sacrilege to my "English" tea drinking spirit, but sometimes a girl's gotta do, what a girl's gotta do!

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