Pet Shop Boys

With the leaves starting to fall, the temperature slowly getting cooler and days getting shorter, it’s finally beginning to feel like Autumn (or ‘Fall’ as the American’s call it!) But before jeans become the staple item in my wardrobe and, dare I even mention, coats and scarf's, I wanted to take a moment to appreciate how lovely campus is on a beautiful day. As I previously mentioned in my very first blog post, this year I’m lucky enough to get to live on the Historic Horseshoe, which is the centre and hub of campus. When the sun is shining you can rest assure that every bench on the Horseshoe will be in use and a colourful array of picnic blankets will be scattered across the grassy area with students studying, listening to music, playing games or just chilling with friends. Definitely a much nicer way to spend a couple of hours in between classes with a fresh breeze running through your hair than stuck in the gloomy Templeman Library on Kent’s campus that just breathes stress and exam anxiety!

The Horseshoe not only appeals to students in need of a break, but it also attracts the canine lover’s amongst us. That’s right, dog walking central! It turns out that students at USC are allowed to have pets in off-campus accommodation, so naturally a large percentage of upperclassmen own cute, fluffy dogs. It all seemed a little bizarre at first; in the UK students can barely afford the weekly food shop at Tesco’s, let alone fending for and actually being responsible for another living thing which needs constant attention and care. And even if you could afford to keep a pet, I’m yet to see a student house or flat up for rent in Canterbury which says ‘animals are welcome’ on the lease agreement. Student Landlords have enough trouble with the humans, let alone bringing pets into the equation!

But the boys here who own dogs certainly have the right idea; they are total ‘chick magnets’. I’ll be sitting outside on my perfectly positioned rug doing a spot of reading or chatting with the girls and out of the blue, a ball or some form of ‘go fetch’ item will not-so-subtly land on my blanket, and along comes a fluffy husky or a cute chocolate lab bounding at full speed ahead straight for me! You don’t even get a heads up, all of a sudden leaves and grass are everywhere and some wet, slimy tongue is trying mouth to mouth before its owner strolls over, claiming he’s ‘sorry’. But I know the truth, he’s not really sorry, in fact he’s not in the slightest bit apologetic. I have no doubt that he intentionally threw the ball over in my direction in the first place. Total con! Getting the poor dog to be your side kick and doing all the hard work for you! I wonder if it ever occurred to these guys that they could probably afford to skip all the gimmicks and just talk to a girl? Maybe not…. Talking is clearly no fun at all. Instead, getting hit in the forehead with a saliva ridden, slobbery tennis ball, is such a turn on!