YODA, it’s almost Woofismas and ‘celebrate you must’ to use a quote (seeing as everyone else is) from Star Wars. It’s Lady D here as your festive MC mistress of ceremonies, that’s D as in Doodle not D for Diana and certainly not C for that so called Lady C in ‘I’m a Celebrity get me out of here,’ although any dog in the hood would roll over and play dead at her command. She’d no doubt make a brilliant dog trainer, unlike Pack Mistress, who as both you and I can testify is a totally useless dog trainer. PM is also a useless blogger in my opinion. You might have noticed that she hasn’t been blogging much recently. By way of excuse she says the world has been such a terrible place of late she couldn’t find the heart nor the words to bring pen to paper – or finger to mouse, although I do feel it’s her job and public responsibility to try to cheer people up a bit. 

All of these terrible goings on have also obviously affected her health, because when she went for her recent six monthly blood tests she passed out whilst they were on the job. Wimp! She should have summoned ‘the force’ or called that Luke, as in Skywalker. The nurse told her that she’d been a bit slow. Well, I could have told them that, she didn’t need to trail all the way to the hospital leaving me alone for hours on end to find that out!

Since that day, and after receiving her results, she has gone into a total decline and keeps lying on the sofa hiding away from the big bad world. I tried to nudge her into life but she refused to budge.

“My immune system has gone down,” she snivelled pathetically poking her nose over the fur of her cuddle blanket.

Is that like the internet going down? Well, we’re with Virgin and according to Beardy Branson that never goes down, although PM would be the first to point out that it’s always going up! Beardy’s elves should tell him not to be so mean when we are coming up to Christmas or we will find someone else to dress up in a camp red outfit and pretend to be an air hostess or come down the chimney.

Totally by passing Beardy and his virgin elves, she went on the internet and ordered herself an early Christmas present. “It’s a special machine to give my immune system a boost,” she told me excitedly as we jointly ripped it out of its packaging. Now, like ET, when she feels herself flagging she rushes into the kitchen and plugs herself in, then stands there with her hands pressing down on the pulsating apparatus charging herself up as the walls reverberate and the pans rattle.

“I really think it’s working,” she stutters teeth chattering over the ear splitting din.

When the noisy machine finally comes to a shuddering halt, she downs the foul looking foamy green witches brew in one go, because that’s what you are supposed to do apparently to get the full benefit. Then her juice induced eyeballs wildly scour the kitchen for any old carrot or mouldy apple left over from all the fruit and veg she buys in an effort to be health conscious but never normally eats. Even bits of old cabbage get tossed in, in fact leprechauns beware! Anything that is vaguely green – in it goes!

But I must say, I know it is early days but it does seem to be making a difference. She’s definitely got more energy. She can bypass the first bench in the park without a second glance and make it all the way to the second before she sits down and gets the flask and the e cig out. She can now hurl a stick further than two feet in front of her and yes, can even bend down without grunting (well at least not as embarrassingly loudly) when picking it up.

Maybe PM is really an extraterrestrial in human disguise? I’ve often had my doubts. Or someone or something out of Star Wars which needs regular topping up like an alien car battery or daylight saving energy bulb. And talking of bulbs she could really do with a light sabre instead of that daft walking stick. Although now she is no longer a Chewbacca and has taken up vaping instead, she can walk perfectly well unaided. Mind you she sounds just like Darth Vader when she’s vaping away on that e cigarette – Darth Vaper!

The problem is, now her nose works better, although still not as efficiently as mine, she is constantly waving it around sniffing the air, detecting bad smells, some of which it has to be said are down to yours truly. She couldn’t give a toss about smells bad or otherwise before, but now out comes the febreze and all the cleaning products, including Mr Sheen, although we won’t say any more about him coming out. He’s had enough publicity already and according to PM once again sullied HIV’s good name. If in fact it had a good one to sully in the first place!

But then something else happened. Quite by chance she discovered the fix anything powers of WD 40 – obviously an earthly relative of C3 P0 and R2 D2. I must say I was also impressed. The amount of things WD 40 cured, from a stuck zip to a creaking door hinge. It’s a shame it can’t cure her or that gadabout Mr Sheen – not to mention the other thirty odd million or so other people worldwide infected with HIV. But at least she could squirt some on her creaking knees.

Doggy sigh! I have to admit in some ways I preferred our slovenly ways of yore, but maybe PM will calm down and relax a bit over the Christmas period, take it easy again, watch a movie, the new Star Wars film for instance. Help me OBI WAN Kenobi – you’re my only hope!!

Have a woofin good Christmas hiviners and – May the force be with you – one and all.


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