By 
Four years. Almost 200 instalments. Countless muddy pawprints and moments of inexplicable canine chaos. It hardly seems possible that we’re here already poised on the cusp of another New Year, yet here we are: Waffle, the Hairy Fool himself, turning six on January 1. Six years of mania, mischief and love, and somehow, miraculously, he’s still largely intact. Mostly.
The year of Our Lord 2025 has been a year of storms, both literal and metaphorical. I think back, for example, to Storm Éowyn, which tore through our little corner of the world with the sort of enthusiasm usually reserved for Fatty Arbuckle’s older brother, Clarence in a sweetshop. Tiles flew, fences wobbled, bins vanished, and Waffle? Well, he got blown across the garden like some sort of furry kite. My first instinct was panic; my second was laughter. I was relieved but also stunned that this little creature could survive being airborne with nothing more than fur and thraness to guide him. That moment afterwards, as I scooped him up, dripping and wide-eyed, reminded me of something essential: Life is chaotic, unpredictable but often hilarious – especially if you have the right perspective.
Waffle has a knack for perspective. He doesn’t dwell on what’s lost or what’s broken. He doesn’t sulk over missing keys or the occasional ill-advised session. He lives entirely in the moment, whether that’s rushing through a muddy field, stealing a toilet roll, or glaring at me when I complain that he’s reeking after being out in the rain. Watching him navigate the world is, in its own way, a masterclass in resilience.
Of course, time marches on, and the reality of age – mine, his, ours – is impossible to ignore. Six years might feel long in doggie terms but it is astonishingly finite for humans. I think about others who’ve lost their furry companions and I try not to dwell on the inevitable. Instead, I focus on welcome homes, the walks, the chewed socks and the countless little mis-adventures that fill our days. These are the things that matter.
Philosophers across the ages have tried to sum it up – from Confucius’s reflections on simple living to Buddha’s gentle reminder that we mistakenly assume we have time. Waffle doesn’t need philosophy; he teaches it by example. And perhaps my only New Year’s resolution should be to learn a little from him: To be present, to embrace the chaos, to laugh at what I cannot control, and to treasure the ordinary, fleeting moments that form the fabric of our lives.
Looking ahead, I don’t make grand resolutions – not really. But I do hope for more craic, more hairy hugs and more episodes that make me shake my head and smile in equal measure. I hope for good health, contentment, and the occasional quiet moment that allows me to simply watch Waffle do absolutely nothing. Because in those moments, the world feels exactly as it should.
So, as 2025 folds into memory and we step, tip-toeing, into 2026, I’ll take a deep breath, give Waffle an extra scratch behind the ears, and promise myself to appreciate the little things: Those welcome homes, the chaos of chasing the hens in the garden, the sound of him snoring at my feet. If the next year brings half as many adventures as the last, we’ll be doing alright.
So merry Christmas! May your days be full of chaos and love – and with just enough nonsense to keep things interesting.
And Waffle? Well, here’s to you, you Hairy fuppen Fool. Keep flying! Although preferably stay on solid ground this time.
