#PawHumour with the RSPCA

I'm a pretty proud dog mother (I even make them party hats). If you follow me over on Twitter or Instagram you'll see two regular appearances from my furry partners in crime, Dude (left) and Toffee (right). Although, I've recently been parted from them since I moved out of my family home, I still visit often as I cannot bare to be separated from them for too long. When the RSPCA asked me to jump onboard with their #PawHumour campaign, of course I had to participate. Both of my pups are rescues, which although can be a challenge at times is something that is important to me. I'll always rescue from now on as there are so many furry companions out there that need a second chance at life.

The #PawHumour challenge is to tell a entertaining tale from my beloved twosome and it's safe to safe, the list is endless. There is however one story that has stuck in my mind in where Dude humiliated me to no end.

It was a good nine years or so ago, when we first adopted Dude in the family as a fresh-faced youngster who had a heap of energy. I was around 15 years old and going through the 'MySpace phase' - those were the days! Black and blonde patched hair, a panda-load of eyeliner, studded belts, band tees from Camden market - I was a walking, talking stereotype. I was also in the middle of my teenager years feeling hella sorry for my self, as you did. As if that isn't embarrassing enough?

I was also in the middle of my first heartache and hopeless high school crush. He was three years older, an athlete training for the Olympics and oh my word, I was besotted. Obviously, I was the epitome of Wednesday Addams herself at the time. It never gonna happen.

So, one day I was walking the cutest and newest addition of the Travers clan, Dude, in our local fields, which happens to have a athletics and sports track situated in it. I can't remember if I was there intentionally, but my beloved high school crush was training that evening along with what seemed like a million other people. So, there was me walking along a hill that overlooks the track with Dude on his lead pretty nonchalant, when all of a sudden someone throws something... a javelin, a discus, I can't be sure. It's all a blur!

Whatever it was, Dude HAD to have it. So, unexpectedly he launched himself down the hill with me in tow. Instantly I fell flat on my face as he darted towards the track barking excitedly and the lead slipped out of my hand. I ran as fast as I could after him, losing a shoe en route exposing my odd brightly, coloured socks and clung desperately to my jeans to save my falling to my ankles.

Dude, however continued to bound across the track, tail wagging and barking merrily. Half of the congregation on the track began screaming whilst the others stopped dead and watched the calamity unfold including that boy I had the biggest crush on at the time. It was AWFUL. I finally managed to wrestle Dude to a halt in the sand pit at the end of the long jump track. I STILL HAD ONE SHOE ON.

I can't remember what happened after that. I think I must have blacked it out from sheer humiliation. I can't even say if I went back to get my lost shoe or left it behind in the field. What a disaster.

Despite this tale and a million other tales of him pooping at inconvenient times and places, I wouldn't change him for the world.

RSPCA are currently working with MORE TH>N Insurance where you can not only protect your furry companions, but for each policy sold £20 will be donated to the RSPCA for the care of unwanted and neglected animals in England and Wales. How can you argue with that?

Have your furry pals ever embarrassed you? I'd love to hear any #PawHumour stories you might have to share!

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