A snout to the elbow.

It’s been a busy busy busy few weeks over at Papilow HQ. The other half’s parents were coming for a weekend and getting the guest bedroom ready was a succession of late nights.

On top of this, I started an internship for a company that sells art and homeware based around the art. Therefore, I was given a small space at their most recent event to showcase my homeware, cue more late nights pattern designing, sewing and disentangling myself from threads that somehow just get everywhere.

So yes, it’s been busy, but it has also been a lot of fun. There has been one major distraction however. This distraction has 4 legs and flatulence that would make a skunk blush. It also has an incredibly powerful whippy tail and many wrinkles on it’s smooshy face.

Meet Kilo. Our 4 year old boxer.


All I really ever wanted was to work from home, with a dog running around being loveable and cute and keeping me company. But this, it appears, was a completely unrealistic expectation.

If you’re living in the UK, you will probably have seen the advert in which a man repeatedly tries to check his credit score (how often does one man need to do that? Like, not that often that he can’t wait till he gets out the bath to check it) and he is followed around by his loveable boxer Moose. Moose has been given a voice.

The voice says “What doooing?”

Screen Shot 2017-10-21 at 10.56.47

My God, it’s like they got some kind of boxer whisperer. If boxers could talk – that is what they would say. All the damn time.

Don’t get me wrong, I love this dog, he’s my baby. I like to smoosh my face into his and kiss his little wrinkly snout. I like it when he puts his paw on my lap or when he fits his whole self on to my knee. I like this all on my own time.

I do not like it, when I’m frantically sewing my socks off, or writing a blog or creating new prints and all of a sudden, I have a stitch out of place or a letter mistyped or a black smudgy line across my page. I look down and there it is, that snout, tucked under my arm. ” What dooing?” the snout says.

I do not like it, when I have to use the little girls room and the paw appears on my knee. “What dooing?” the paw says.

When I’m actually in the shower and I hear the lapping sounds of water being caught in his ginormous mouth as he’s got in there with me. When I’m sat working and I have two paws around my neck for a cuddle. When I’m sleeping and I have a snout in my face at 5am.  When I just put a new throw on the guest bed and he goes and sleeps on it until he’s caught. “What dooooing?” He says.

It doesn’t end there.

There are scratch marks on the window sill in our bedroom because he likes to look out the window (he can’t even see through the blinds) to try find out where we’ve gone. The jumping up at the window extended to the guest room once we cleared it – and this time he could actually see out! We thought it was so cute.


Until I left my phone next to the open window, resting on a tin of paint, on the window sill.

The dog jumped up, the paint tin rocked, the world went into slow motion. The phone flew through the window, in a perfect curve. Through the air, out the second floor window, missing a bucket of water by centimetres, and landing on the decking below.

It took us at least 3 minutes of standing their in shock, discussing what just happened as if I’d just made a cup of tea rather than watch my hella expensive phone make like a bird and fly. The dog was still at the window.  Reality kicked in and we went to pick the phone off the floor. Somehow, it was unharmed, at least.

For a while we were unsure if Kilo had prematurely aged. No No, he’d just been laying in all the plasterboard dust as we ripped walls out. Laying against the newly painted wall. Laying all over the carpet fitter as he tried to measure up.


Anywhere we are, he has to be. If we try to shut him out we can hear him just lurking waiting for us to call him back, which we inevitably do because we feel sorry for him.

He’s a total babe but why does he find the exact spot in the room which is most inconvenient to lay in? It makes us think he’s not clever. But he is. He has devised a plan.

He’s not technically allowed in the guest room but it has been brought to our attention that he leaves his blanket next to our bed when he thinks we’re asleep, spends the night in the guest room and then sneaks back to his blanket at 6am. Creeping around  Like we wouldn’t notice. Which we didn’t for a few nights to be fair.

Is this all dogs?

Or just ours?

Answers on a postcard.



Next time I’ll stop showing your pictures of my dog and actually get back to telling you about our house progress which is coming on nicely…hurrah!


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