Our two year old house guest

Calpol not required

Call us daft and question our sanity if you want, but we've recently had a two year old stay at our house without his parents. That isn't actually as intrepid as it sounds though, because the little bloke has stayed with us before and seemed to love every minute. So did we!! Not for the pair of us though, shitty nappies, sleepless nights and Calpol every four hours, because, to the very best of my knowledge young dogs don't do, have or need any of those three things.

Leto, is a two year old Carlino, (Pug in English), usually resident with the girlyfriend's sister and her husband, who, this week were travelling and left their precious little boy in our capable hands. As house guests go, little Leto was impeccably behaved and huge fun to have around; not once during the five days of his most recent visit did he get pissed, puke everywhere and then pass out, which, in times gone by has been characteristic of one or two of our human houseparty invitees who've stayed over.

Spain's best looking dog ?

That though isn't to say everything the loveable little rascal got up to was warmly welcomed by senior management and I, particularly me. Not being blessed with the patience of Job, it would have been nice to be slightly more with it in the mornings before the assault on my bare feet began, especially on my first journey of the day between bed, bog and back for that all important opening pee. It seems clear that, for a two year old dog toes are fair game and, as luck wouldn't have it, no-one in Spain wears any kind of footwear indoors during the hot months of July and August. The problem is, this little bloke was just too affectionate, fun and simply great to be around, even at seven in the morning. During his rare quieter moments, Letito, (ito on the end of any male Spanish word indicates very small - diminituvo), he had to ensure you knew he was nearby by either brushing against you or flopping on the floor with one paw or the other, often both together, strategically placed over my feet.

Leto in a rare thoughtful moment

Outside on the street though was where the fun really began. Three times a day for a good fifteen minutes each time, he and I would hit the pavements around our city centre apartment, ostensibly to allow chummy to make his mark upside the most convenient lamp post or car tyre and attempt his most recent "deposit." However hard we tried, for Leto the call of nature seemed to occur fairly early on after we left the house; as regular as clockwork after closing the door behind us, mother nature would be on the phone with the next emergency. Unfortunately for me, a quick dash across a rather busy two lane road was interrupted by his need for the next bowel movement. No problem as it goes because we(I)  had the foresight to change pavements on a zebra crossing; half way over though, his back legs assumed the position and with my self conscious nod to both first in line car drivers, Leto did the business. He wasn't quite quick enough though because mid-way through the lights changed, leaving me with a bit of a dilemma......

The scene of my moral dilemma

.......Not so long back, I had a bit of a moan of my own about inconsiderate dog owners too idle to clear up after their pets and on this particular morning I actually became one. Ablutions just completed in the middle of a zebra crossing with traffic lights on green, what do I do? hurry on to the safety of the other side or stop for a couple of seconds longer and bag up Leto's, quite sizeable, recent doings?  In the end discretion was the better part of valour and so the pair of us carried on, me feeling somewhat shamefaced and refusing to look back, him completely impervious. Ten minutes later, on our way home, we passed that same zebra crossing and Leto's tea from the afternoon before was nowhere to be seen, squashed flat by various passing vehicles and presumably being carted around the city deep in the tread pattern of a Michelin tyre.

Hmm, I wonder if Leto's on facebook

Initially, I guess it must be quite difficult for a dog, being in a strange house with foster parents instead of Mum and Dad. For Leto, after a short time, his confusion disappeared and he began to feel much more at home and, soon began to test the boundaries of his new surroundings. On the furniture for example. At home we have a lengthy L-shaped sofa, half of which I covered in a sheet to accommodate pooch, guess where he chose to curl up? I soon put a stop to that and it did help that he's quite a quick learner. I have no idea whatsoever of the rules and regulations in his own home but I'm willing bet between us the girlfriend and I probably broke most of them. Last thing at night he'd squash himself into his padded basket and nod off, at sometime during the small hours he would, unbeknown to the pair of us, find his way onto our bed and remain there until being discovered first thing in the morning.

Kids run amok at their Grandparents house don't they because it's a lot less strict than at home, then, when they return it's the parents left to pick up the pieces. If that's the case with Leto, I'm really sorry Lourdes and Juan.