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Get yourself a human they said. It will be fun they said.

This may be true of many humans, but the one I have been paired with seems to be more of a chore than fun. Let me explain my reasons to you and you will soon be nodding your head in agreements with me and sending me your sympathy. This maid of mine is pure hard work.

I was promised during my guide dog training that I would be paired with a suitable “owner” (I got myself a maid) that matches me in personality, need and outlook on life. What I got was a clumsy oaf, someone who is in need of constant supervision and a fairy land dweller who forgets she is on earth. I mean come on, I am none of the above and exude perfection in every moment of my waking and sleeping life. Nevertheless, I find myself here paired with the hired help going through life using my good looks and charm to divert the attention from her numerous faux pas in daily life.

In the above picture you can clearly see my “never again” look as I sit on the floor in a taxi wondering what I have done to deserve this in life.
We had just come back from a party with the publishers in a posh place in London, yet the maid appeared to have not got the memo of the type of place it was. As she got ready my gaze wondered down first of all to her granny sandal clad feet that were apparently her “comfy” shoes as she needed comfortable safety as apposed to glitzy to ensure that her ability to trip over fresh air did not happen to impinge on her healing knee after the operation. What made the hideous sight even worse that she had a ladder in her tights that would have reached the steeple of the tallest cathedral in the world. She did not notice this however until she unpacked her bag after returning home where one of her children pointed it out to her

It was not just the attire that she had on that night that let my image down but her inability to get food or drink safely into her mouth, which is surprising as it is usually opening and closing at a rapid rate as she chatters away to anyone and everyone. Within a matter of minutes of arriving in the party where everyone was immaculate, she managed to tip a quarter of her green juice down her new dress turning her a lovely shade of hulk. She even got it confiscated off her as she attempted to mop up the spinach spillage as she was dangerously close to spilling the remainder of the juice over herself and the person helping her.
Not one to disappoint in the slovenly stakes, a matter of minutes later she managed to create an avocado avalanche off some very tasty toast as it dropped and plopped right by my face. I obviously had to try and help her clean up this mess before too many people saw her clumsiness, so I attempted two licks before I realised that avocado was not for my palate. I allowed the other two legged less hairy human that was with us on the trip to clear up after where my tongue had retreated from cleaning up. The maid had the cheek not to allow me to help myself to the food table with some succulent looking hot and spicy chicken wings and only gave me pieces of the avocado free toast.

She failed to pre warn me that there would be two other dogs there also so obviously her communication skills were deficient that night. I only learnt about the other four-legged hairy dog race when a small dog came up wanting to play with moi. I was obviously being very professional and refused to play and only shot off between two people when she pounced at me at an alarmingly fast pace wanting to play. The maid said that apparently it was my fault that she nearly ended up rugby tackling these two people to the ground as she tried to regain her footing. It is not my fault that my six stone model like body is just too much for her to handle.

She even had the cheek to tell people of some of my more entertaining behaviours that I hold no responsibility for. She took great pleasure in telling people of the time that my two legged less hairy grandmother got caught on my back in a funeral as I was going through her legs to give her a doggy cuddle and I trotted off with her stuck on my back. Apparently, people found this funny as I trotted off into the sunset with my grandmother (with only 25-inch legs) riding me like a backwards facing jockey. Hmmmm, the embarrassing stories I can tell about her would have them in fits of giggles, but I was enough of a gentleman to refrain from doing this.

It was nice to get her in the taxi at the end of the night to get her out of the publics way as we went back to the hotel room so that she could not longer embarrass me and I know that the looks I was giving her in the taxi told her that I really shouldn’t take her out in public again. I thought the shenanigans of the night were over until we got back to the hotel room where there was a funny smell outside of the hotel room. As soon as the maids friend opened the door, the smell became even more pungent. After racking their brains, they finally realised that the offending aroma was coming from the left-over kimchi that the two legged less hairy friends thought would be a good idea to bring back to the hotel from the lush vegan restaurant that they had lunched in. Not even quickly eating it and opening the window for some air could get rid of the smell that they had created. She has the audacity to complain of my natural occurring smells!

Now be honest with me, who do you think is the one that is more embarrassing? The maid who does things like this daily or me, the angelic dog that is perfect? If you ever fancy giving me respite from this great oaf, you are welcome to her but do not say I haven’t warned you about her klutzy ways. Just bring a bib, spare clothes and a public health warning sign with you just in case.