Thursday, 31 December 2009

The ballad of Ronnie and pride

Went to a place called Worden Park with the long man this afternoon. It was very enjoyable. Full of ducks and ponds and trees and poo (Some of it not even dog's poo.) to sniff. Whilst there I met with a big old black Labrador called Ben. He tried to give me a bit of advice on the do's and don't's of living with these needy people, the kind of tricks I need to learn to get an easy life. Apparently I should swallow my pride and learn to toe the line. I should only ever poo outside, should stay off the bed, should never hump a pillow no matter how bored I am, shouldn't bark while they're all sat eating at the dinner table and must NEVER rip things up or chew the little people's things. Bloody hell, what's left after you take all that out of your day? Some dog's have no self respect, I bet the cold winter nights just fly by in Ben's house. When I eventually seize power then weak, cowardly dogs like Ben will be first up against the wall, along with the filthy cats. There will be NO room in my brave new world order for weakness or cowardice. Or cats. Swallow my pride, NEVER!

Last night the clippy cloppy woman said that I had been given the wrong name and that I should really be called "Chastity". She mentioned it just after I squeezed into the bed between the two of them while they were doing that thing where they bump their lips together. If she thinks I'm answering to that name then she's got another think coming. I begrudge answering to the name I've already been saddled with.

Tuesday, 29 December 2009

Wolves v City, dog v kitty

The long man, clippy cloppy woman, little people, cat lady and myself went out yesterday for a lovely long walk. We travelled in the metal box thingy for miles and miles to a place called Southport where we walked along a moist, sandy thing full of shells and sticks and dead fish and poo. We encountered a number of other dogs during the walk, most friendly, although one bit me on the backside, and I noticed something. The vast majority of the dogs I met were wearing jackets, like the jackets the people wear to keep them warm. Now as you know I'm not one to complain, I don't ask for much, food, warmth, squeaky toys, the odd tickle, my own side of the bed and biscuits (I love biscuits) but I can't help but feel a little hard done by now. Is it really too much for a puppy to expect a few creature comforts? A coat, some shoes, maybe even a little purse wouldn't go amiss. I'd probably be peeing against the wind expecting such things off the clippy cloppy woman, but I reckon a few days staring lovingly into my long man's eyes might do the trick. For now I'll have to make do with the rather un-ladylike woolly hat I stole off one of the little people.

The long man gets particularly excited whenever his favourite program is on the telly thingy in the front room. It's called the City match, and I must say it does look like fun, loads of people chasing a ball around a field, but it's never really held much appeal for me. Last night, however, I heard him say that City were playing against WOLVES! Well, that really whetted my appetite. There was I, sat expectantly on the settee next to the long man waiting for kick off and looking forward to seeing my brethren make mincemeat, quite literally, of his beloved City when, imagine my disappointment, instead of actual wolves another bunch of ordinary people wearing orange shirts lined up against them. I left him to it and retired to the back room for a private session of back leg nibbling and toy chewing.

Today the long man was conspicuous by his absence. The clippy cloppy woman made up for it by taking the little people and I to the cat ladies house again. It was there I learned why the cat lady smells of cat. She's only got one of the bloody things living in the house, actually IN the house, with her! Disgusting. There was I, merrily sauntering my way across the kitchen floor when I saw it, all puffed up and hissy. I was mortified. Vile, horrid creature. You know, if cats actually looked like what they really are NO ONE would allow them in their houses. They act so whiter than white, holier than thou, all "look at me I'm cleaner than a dog", when really they are nothing more than killing machines. Filthy murderers. You can't trust a cat. There's a reason why they don't use cats to herd sheep you know. You'd have no bloody sheep left, they'd eat them all soon as look at them. No no no, you can't trust a cat, not like you can trust a dog. First chance they got they'd have your bloody eyes out, then they'd sit there all "oooh shame you can't see me, I'm licking my paw and cleaning your blood off my face with it, aren't I just purr-fect?". Well, cat lovers, (A practice which is illegal by the way!) answer me this... what kind of dirty, filthy creature washes it's face with it's own spit? Makes me shudder just to think about it. And don't get me started on the raspy tongue business, what's all that about?

Sunday, 27 December 2009

Crowded house

So much has happened in such a short time I really don't know where to start this entry, it's been like a madhouse around here. I'm as tired as, well, a tired thing. And then some. Visitors aplenty, although the much anticipated visit from that Chris bloke turned out to be a real disappointment. Apparently, so the story goes, he turned up in the middle of the night after we were all asleep and snuck down the chimney to leave his gifts. A likely story! For one thing, the gifts he supposedly left for us all smelled suspiciously like the bags that the clippy cloppy woman has had in the back of the cupboard where she keeps her slippers for the last week or two. Bags which have now mysteriously disappeared. Coincidence? I think not! I'm beginning to doubt this Chris bloke even exists.

Many of the people that came visiting were people I am already aquainted with - Audrey, the shouty woman, the lady with the clicky ankle, the cat lady and the lady with the black furry coat - but they were joined by a plethora of new faces. There was a little person that wasn't very little and looked very much like the long man, but not as long. I think I'll call him the little long man. And then there was the little long mans brother, who had a scratchy chin, and the scratchy chinned mans special friend. They were all very smiley, and of course yours truly was very soon the centre of attention, as befits a puppy of my calibre.

The people spent most of the morning giving one and other gifts. I kept count and by my reckoning the little people did the best out of the arrangement by far. They certainly received the most gifts and I didn't actually see them give anyone a gift back. Canny little tykes, those two. Their gifts were also, without a shadow of a doubt, the nicest to chew. Should keep me going for a few weeks at least.

The room where the clippy cloppy woman makes the food smelled delicious all morning. The air was thick with meaty, greasy, drool inducing aromas that must've had the same effect on the people as on myself, since they all ate so much food at dinner time. Especially the little long man and the scratchy chinned man, my goodness they certainly do have good appetites, and just like Audrey they most certainly do NOT like to share food! Thank heavens for my long man, who kept "accidentally" dropping little, and some times not so little, pieces of meat on the floor. I was having the most magnificent little secret feast until Audrey, the bloody nuiscence, cottoned on to what was occuring. She made such a fuss, barking and biting my neck, that everyone noticed mine and the long man's little arrangement. Nice one Audrey, remind me to come around to your house some time and curl a poo out onto the shouty womans bed. I'll frame you, you selfish little swine, see if I don't. No one crosses me, especially where hot, greasy, succulent meat is concerned. Don't dream it's over!

The people all spent the evening laughing a lot and gulping down lots of odd smelling drinks. Goodness they were loud, especially the shouty woman. Both Audrey and myself were really beginning to tire of the peoples wobbly legged shenanigans when suddenly, one by one and two by two, they all decided enough was enough and started to go to bed. Eventually the house was quiet, and I decided to sleep on the bed with the scratchy chinned man and his special friend. That turned out to be the worst possible place to try and get some shut eye. No sooner had I begun to dream, this time about those flappy, feathery, screechy, whistly things I see in the sky some times, than the scratchy chinned mans special friend was up like a shot, making gurgly, groany noises and dashing to the room where the people poo, bouncing off every wall en route. She dropped to her knees and sniffed the bowl they poo into, which can't have smelled very nice because she immediately shouted "Ohhhhh gorrrrd" and started spewing up most, if not all, of what she had spent all day eating and drinking. She is very wasteful, because when she had finished she just left it and wobbled back to bed. Still, her loss. It was delicious.

Tuesday, 22 December 2009

Grudge match

Another busy day with the long man. My goodness he does require a lot of attention. Still, it stops him chewing the furniture, so it's worth it on that score since the clippy cloppy woman always blames me. Today he had an appointment, something to do with a "horse pickle" and having to see the peoples version of a vet, they call it a doctor. I do hope he's had to suffer the indignity of having a needle shoved into his backside like I had to a few weeks back. People say you shouldn't bear a grudge, but I don't see why not. A grudge is not, after all, a paricularly cumbersome object to keep about one's person. I intend to keep this grudge with me at all times. I'll prove the long man is no match for me.

And so, the day started with us jumping into the svan and heading off to Salford where the long man dropped me off to keep the lady with the clicky ankle company for a few hours. I spent most of my time in the back garden, which was today an Audrey free zone, and had some quite considerable success searching out the biscuits that were buried all over the place. Delicious. I do enjoy a nice biscuit.

The clicky ankled woman's house has carpet on every floor, which makes for a much more pleasant sitting, lying or rolling around experience, but I find the fluff gets stuck in my teeth when I'm munching on a pigs ear. Still, swings and roundabouts I suppose. And anyway, when the clicky ankled woman went in the kitchen I just jumped up on the settee and ate it there.

I am currently lay full stretch on the settee back at my house penning this entry. The clippy cloppy woman is still out, which means I have the long man at my beck and call. To entertain myself I have been occasionally wandering over to the kitchen door and barking so he has to come and open it for me, at which point I go back to the settee and have a little giggle to myself. Apparently I'm "fast becoming a pain in the backside"! Ha! I've no sympathy for him on that score, if he wants to know what a pain in the backside is really like he should try being inoculated. (Hmmm, maybe I AM becoming a little over fixated on that particular episode.)

Sunday, 20 December 2009

Cold calling

Whats the deal with all this white, flaky stuff falling from the sky and covering everything up? I believe it's called snow. It's pretty cool, in more ways than one. For one thing it makes it much easier to pick up my pee-mail, it's bright yellow and stands out like a sore claw. I heard the clippy cloppy woman say that I'm a Labrador, and that Labradors are bred for cold, snowy conditions. Well, all available evidence points to the fact that I am most certainly NOT a Labrador, because I am bloody freezing!

The long man, the clippy cloppy woman, the little people and I went to that place, the reserve wire, again today. Goodness me the little people were excited, they really should get out more bless them. They seemed to enjoy making balls out of the snow and throwing them at the long man, they're so easily amused, but I don't think the long man was as amused as the little people were.

After our walk we went to see Audrey, the shouty woman and the lady with the clicky ankle. When we were alone I plucked up the courage to ask Audrey what had happened to her ear. Apparently, her sister bit it off! I don't think I want to get too close to that particular branch of our family tree, not a very friendly bunch it would appear.

Finally, by George it was a busy day, we called on so many people, we went to see a lady that smells of cat. She looks very much like the clippy cloppy woman but is far more patient and friendly. We were there quite some time, and when we left we left the little people behind. I was shocked, I know they can be a bit of a handful and goodness knows I'm not their biggest fan but I must say I feel for them. I know the pain of being left in a rescue centre, people ooh-ing and ahh-ing at you but never stroking you or even giving you a little biscuit. (I love biscuits.) I do hope they find a good home soon, and in the meantime the cat lady seems quite nice so hopefully they won't be too sad. On the plus side, they won't be there to kick me out of their room, and there are so many chewable things as yet unchewed to chew. Woohoo.

Thursday, 17 December 2009

Wee sports

I have noticed that those little people seem to spend all their spare time sitting gazing at the television. I've never seen the attraction myself. That is to say, until today! I saw the most amazing show, it's called "one dog and his man" or some such thing, but the title isn't important. Basically it's a competition, I'm not too sure of the rules, but you get to chase sheep all over a massive field and then get given a biscuit, and we all know how much I love a nice biscuit. I think I could grow to love chasing sheep also. I'm going to apply to be on the show next year I think.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this previously, but for some strange reason (a very welcome reason, but strange none the less.) I get given a biscuit every time I do a wee outside. Never when I wee inside though, not sure why that's the case, a wee's a wee after all, but I digress. I have recently discovered that if, part way through a wee, I clench the muscles in my intimate feminine area, I can stop the wee mid flow, at which point I get given a biscuit. Then it's simply a case of relaxing a little and letting nature take it's course before, yes you've guessed it, that gormless long man gives me a second biscuit. Two biscuits per wee, that's a one hundred per cent rise in productivity, or profit, or something like that. Whichever way you look at it, it's a result.

Sunday, 13 December 2009

Reservoir dog

I think I may have to reassess my opinion of the long man, maybe I was a little harsh initially. That which I had previously believed to be weakness I now see to be kindness. I have certainly had a great time with him over the last twenty four hours or so. So much fun in fact that I have decided, once I seize power and become the Alpha of this dysfunctional pack in which I find myself stuck, I might make him second in command.
Yesterday morning didn't seem to be getting off to a great start. I had a spot of breakfast and was looking forward to our regular little amble around the block when I was surreptitiously bundled into one of the smelly, metal box things, he calls it his "work svan", and taken, against my will, on a road trip. The journey seemed to take forever. I tried, at one point, to dial the dogs trust on his phone that he had left on the seat next to me, but the little buttons weren't designed for paws and I just kept getting some woman, apparently called Emma Gincey, asking me which service I required. Eventually though we arrived at our destination, and I must say it was well worth it! It's called a "reserve wire". What a place. Trees, grass, mud, poo, leaves, water and a multitude of other dogs, all with fragrant butts to sniff. So many butts, so little time. There was even a castle, the little people would have loved it. Oh and the fussing I was getting off the people the dogs had brought with them, so nice. I only usually get that much fuss when the long man and the clippy cloppy woman have been to the big building at the end of the road where all the people that can't walk properly congregate. I believe it's called the "low cal". I don't quite see the point of people visiting a low calorie establishment when they all stagger out of there and straight into the kebab shop next door.
All too soon our fun was over and it was back into the svan for another little road trip, this time to the long mans home town of Salford, a quaint little fishing village on the banks of the Irwell. There I was introduced to Audrey, a chunky little Earth mother of a dog, and her people, the shouty woman and the lady with the clicky ankle. Audrey was very excitable and not in the least bit lady like, but friendly enough. I think Audrey was an only child because I noticed she does NOT like to share her biscuits. Mind you, I'd begrudge doing that too. I love biscuits you see. She also has half an ear missing. I didn't like to ask what had happened in case she took offence, but I hear Salford is a bit rough. (I hear better than Audrey anyway, hehe!)
The clicky ankle lady has a lovely garden, with grass and water and leaves and flowers and lots of poo, and I think a few biscuits buried out there also. I'll try and get the long man to take me there again, hopefully when the shouty woman and Audrey aren't around, so I can investigate further.

Wednesday, 9 December 2009

Chops, plops and bad Christmas carols

I swear on all that is holy if I have to sit through one more rendition of the little people singing the song about Uncle Billy losing his willy on the motorway I shall turn feral and unleash furious vengeance upon the bloody pair of them! Apparently it's a song for that Chris bloke that's coming to visit. It's even more annoying than the quaint little ditty about how good beans are for ones heart.
The bed situation is going great guns. I overheard the clippy cloppy woman saying to the long man the other morning that if he doesn't stop me getting in the bed with them every night she is going to take herself off and sleep in the spare bedroom where she can have a bed all to herself. The long man was full of platitudes, all "Yes sweetheart" and "Okay baby" until she left the room, then he gave me a big toothy smile, a tickle on the head and he did that thing where he closes one eye for a second and makes a click-click noise. He's such a pushover.
My tummy was a bit jiggly and my bottom a bit squirty the other day. According to the clippy cloppy woman it's the long mans fault for feeding me lamb chops the previous night. I don't see the problem myself. My poo comes out quicker, meaning I spend less time squatting in the cold, and most of it slips between the gaps in the decking, meaning the long man has less to pick up. And lamb chops taste goooooood! It's a win win situation as far as I can see. All things considered, lamb chops are the future.

Monday, 7 December 2009

My karma ran over my dogma

Goodness me I was bored today. The long man was out for ages, he didn't get home till long after the "beep-beep-beep-beep-beeeeep" noise on the radio. Another five minutes and I'd have taken a poo on the kitchen floor just to spite him. I let him make himself a cup of tea before I started teaching him a new trick. I put my paw up in the air for him to hold and shake and he gives me a little piece of meat out of his left over sandwiches. (Left over food is a concept I don't understand, I never have left over food. I sometimes have food I haven't eaten yet, but I wouldn't say it was left over.) Later, after the long man, the clippy cloppy woman and the little people had eaten, I decided to do a little more work on the trick and blow me, the little people copied him. They're more clever than they look. I didn't have to show them, they just picked it up from watching him. Bless them.
The long man and I went for a little wander earlier. I do enjoy the afternoon walks, people are in less of a rush and I get far more attention. One lady, who had a bag and smelled of sausages, stopped to give me a bit of a tickle and asked the long man "Is she a bitch?" Far from springing to my defence he replied "Yes". The bloody cheek of it. I mean come on, I ask you, do I seem in the least bit bitchy to you? I was livid. When we got back to this dump I made sure to pee all over the settee. Unfortunately the long man didn't notice and I forgot, then I jumped up onto the settee for a bit of a lie down and slipped all over the place, covered in my own filthy wee-wee. Thats karma that is.
The clippy cloppy woman is, as I write, pushing that noisy, sucky thing around on the cow skin in the other room, sucking up all the bits of biscuit and chewed up bouncy ball that I've spent all day spreading around. I don't know why she's bothering, I'd have eaten it all later anyway. Now I'm going to have to start over and at this rate I'll have no bouncy balls left. Wonder if Chris will bring me some when he visits. Bouncy balls and biscuits, lovely.
The long man is asleep on the settee, I'll have to wake him soon or he'll not sleep tonight. I'll take him out for another quick walk, once that bloody clippy cloppy woman has finished pushing that annoying contraption around in there.

Sunday, 6 December 2009

Opposable thumbs and lovely cake crumbs

Apparently we're to have an important visitor soon, some guy by the name of Chris Mazday, or something like that. From what I've so far ascertained he will be bringing gifts for us all with him. I hope I get biscuits, I love biscuits. He must be a very important person because the long man and the clippy cloppy woman have spent all day decorating the house with the most vulgar and garish ornaments it has ever been my misfortune to sniff. They've also put a dirty great big tree in the corner of the room and covered it with shiny balls and lights. It doesn't smell like any tree I've ever encountered though, in fact it smells quite plasticky.
There were a lot of guests for me to play with today, a few of them I've met before but there were a few new faces. A few of them were little people, but not as little as my little people. One lady, with a black furry coat on, was especially nice to me. She smelled lovely, like lavender and biscuits. I don't know if I've ever mentioned it, but I love biscuits. They all had cake to eat, which meant I had cake to eat too. The long man kept sneaking me a bit every now and then when the clippy cloppy woman wasn't looking. And the furry coated woman kept dropping bits in her lap, I think on purpose so I could "share the wealth". I like cake. Cake and biscuits. Biscuits best, but cakes are nice too.
Well, time to take the long man for his walk, so I'll have to love you and leave you for now. I must say, even if it is a bit of a bind, I do quite enjoy having my people. It's a bit of company for me, and they're very little trouble really. Plus, the lack of an opposable thumb makes it hard for me to open the biscuit barrel, or operate a tin opener, so they do come in useful.

Thursday, 3 December 2009

Sickly sweet and cheesy feet

My assault on the long man and the clippy cloppy womans bed has commenced! This morning, when the clinky tinkly noises from the man that brings the white water that the little people drink woke me, and it was still dark, I began stage one of operation shift-up-people-I-want-this-bed. (Not the catchiest operation name I'll admit but I think, descriptively, I've nailed it.) Ever so quietly I slipped my head beneath the covers near the long mans feet, which, incidentally, smell lovely and taste of cheese, before wriggling and crawling up towards the other end. You could've sliced through the tension with one of those things the people use to put that yellow stuff on their bread. I froze and held my breath everytime the clippy cloppy woman, who is an annoyingly light and restless sleeper, moved, mumbled or made that snorty noise. My nerves were well and truly wracked by the time I approached my ultimate destination. As I neared my goal I began to get more and more excited, until, after what seemed like an age, my head popped out from underneath the covers right near the long mans chin. Before I knew it my tail had involuntarily started to wag, hitting him in the chest. He stirred and opened his eyes, I thought the game was up, but no, to my surprise he smiled, said "good girl" and pulled me close. Ooooh he was sooooo warm, it was like being back in the pile of my siblings when I was at the rescue centre and before I knew it I was asleep again, dreaming of big, bright and tasty chewy things that floated all around me, and for some odd reason a black plastic bag. Go figure.
At some point later I felt the clippy cloppy woman begin to stir, and before I knew it she'd flung her arm across the long mans body, her hand coming to rest on my tummy. I was mortified, convinced all my hard work tunneling under the covers had been wasted and I was soon to be returned to the floor, but no! She simply said "whats this?", the long man laughed and said "sorry baby" (Oh they're so sickly sweet sometimes.), she made a tutty noise and all was quiet again. Result! I'm beginning to think the long man, for all his shouty, sweary bravado, is probably the weak link in my enemies defences. I shall exploit that fact and, mark my words, before long, in the battle of the bed, I SHALL BE VICTORIOUS.

Tuesday, 1 December 2009

Spinning beds and poorly heads

The long man is very excited at the moment. Yesterday he got his "pride and joy" back, a funny metal thing called a "Vespa". It's very noisy, very smoky, very smelly, and to cap it all since it returned to take up residence in MY back yard he's spent most of his time rubbing it with stuff and making it all shiny. I do hope the novelty wears off soon.

Went for a lovely long walk this afternoon, once I'd managed to drag him away from my main rival for his affections for long enough. We went to the shops. It took quite some time what with strangers bothering us every ten paces, and not very bright strangers either, ooohing and ahhhing like demented morons, but we eventually made it there and back. Oh and speaking of morons, I'm sure he thinks I'm one too! Whenever I take him out he stops at every road and says "wait Ronnie wait", and then tells me when it's safe to cross over. The cheek of it. As if I'm not capable of assertaining when its safe to cross a bloody road. I mean come on, how much brain power does it take to know not to step in front of one of those big, metal, smelly things? I swear he'll be reminding me to breathe next.

Later on the long man left his drink on the floor while he went to pee in the bowl upstairs that I drink from at night. (Not sure if that particular practice is the most hygenic but I'll let it slide for now since I do have a habit of peeing where he keeps his shoes.) Anyway, I digress. Since he was gone I thought I'd finish the drink off, it's apparently called "whine" which I've always thought an odd name. Now, however, I can see where that comes from! My goodness I was poorly, I whined like a baby. The room went all wonky and things kept spinning around me. I thought I'd best go to bed but the bed wouldn't stay still long enough. At one point I thought to myself "When that bed comes around again I'm on it" but by George it was going so fast I completely missed and banged my chin on the chair leg. Cue more whining from yours truly. Eventually I found it was easier to crawl on my belly and sneak up on it. Result. Never drinking that stuff again.

Sunday, 29 November 2009

Road trips rock

This newfound freedom, albeit somewhat restricted by having the long man tied to my neck, isn't, as I'd initially believed, such a bad thing. I've been out several times today, and one of those trips was to a dirty great big pet shop, full of food, treats and big eared, twitchy nosed furry things that were scared to bloody death of me. One of them even poo'd while running away. Mint. I also seem to be rather popular with people other than my own people, which is a bit of an ego boost I must say. We went there in one of those big, noisy, metal box things which aren't nearly as scary when you're on the inside. Lovely and warm with music playing. I got to sit on the long mans lap all the way there and all the way back, though I must say I think they're taking diabolic liberties with my safety. THEY all had long, clicky, strappy things keeping them in their seats, I was slipping and sliding all over the bloody place. Still, I made it home safe and sound so maybe I shouldn't be such a drama queen.

On the way back we went to a "dry few" or something, where some spotty, smiley person passed food in through the window. The clippy cloppy woman shared it out, but I don't think it was very fair that I got two bloody chips while the rest got hot, smelly, meaty things. Rotten cow!

The long man took me out again later, it was dark and rainy and quite exciting really. I stopped at the lamp post on the corner for a good sniff, you know, checking my Pmail. Apparently the Doberman from number thirteen is on her monthlys. Thats not a good combination, Dobermans aren't the most pleasant dogs in the world to start with, but hormonal too? I'm steering well clear. Oh, and the terrier from round the corner has worms.

Saturday, 28 November 2009

Walkies suck

Well, what a day, where to start? Many's the time I've squatted in the back yard, squeezing a curly poo out, and wondered "what the hell is on the other side of that gate?" Well today I found out, and to tell you the truth it's not nearly as exciting as I thought it would be. For one thing, it's very smelly, and not in a good way. The neighbourhood cats seem to think the passage down the side of my house is their own personal lavatory, that has GOT to change. And what the hell are those big, noisy, smelly, metal boxes full of people that race around out there? Bloody dangerous if you ask me. And another thing, I'm quite capable of deciding where I want to walk and at what speed, so what's the big idea of the long man tying a rope to my collar and dragging me everywhere?
Finally we got back home, just in time for the long man to change into another shirt and bugger off out again to something called the "mans hit 'im arch". Goodness knows what that's all about, but he came home several hours later moaning about the "same old city, another bloody draw". I think there was something wrong with him because he was staggering all over and stinking of polo mints.
The clippy cloppy woman also went out, with the little people in tow, giving me a nice break. I note with interest that the little people don't have ropes around THEIR necks when they leave the house, and they're much more unruly than I am, so what's the story with that? I'm beginning to feel like a second class citizen in this dump. If anyone from the dogs trust happens to be reading this, your help would be greatly appreciated.
When the clippy cloppy woman and the little people returned they brought another little person with them. I tried to make him feel as welcome as I could, showered him with slobbery, nippy, jumpy attention but he was a little shy and hid behind the chair making "eeek eeek" noises until the clippy cloppy woman slung me out. See what I mean, bloody favouritism at best, some might call it rascism!

Friday, 27 November 2009

It's a dogs life

The long man came back into the house much earlier than usual today, caught me quite unawares he did. There I was, spread eagled on the settee, chewing the papery things that come through the hole in the front door every morning, and in he walks, bold as brass, disturbing my "me" time. He seemed so excited though, I just had to make a big fuss of him. The poor thing, he does seem to miss me.

This week I have had some moderate success training the long man. I have found that if, in the night, I awake needing a poo, I just have to clamber up onto the bed and gently claw at his face and he'll get up and let me out into the garden to do my dirty business. No more sleeping next to a dollop of my own excrement! I might try and teach him a few cute tricks next.

I've found that the little people aren't nearly so easy to train, they're far too boisterous. Maybe I'll have a better chance when they get a little older, bless them.

Oh, and as for the clippy cloppy woman, I think she might need a tonic or a diet change, she's so lethargic. She never has a nice little roll about on the floor with me, and she seems to resent the loving bites and scratches I give her. Very ungracious I must say. I think she might be a little jealous of the attention I give the other three, I'll make a special effort when she gets home later.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

False economy

I'm sorry I haven't updated my blog in a while but, oooh, I have been poorly! The long man and the clippy cloppy woman decided, in their infinite wisdom, to save themselves thirty pence a can on my puppy food and buy me some own brand rubbish! False economy if you ask me, they must've wasted more than they saved in the extra cleaning materials they've been using. It did taste ok I must admit, and I ate rather a lot of it, but oh my goodness I've suffered since! Talk about the squits, I haven't stopped. I've not passed a solid stool since Saturday and at this rate my bottom hole is in danger of healing up.

On the plus side, my poorly tummy has given me the revenge I longed for after they took me for my inoculations. The long man's spent most of his time on his hands and knees cleaning up my hot, sticky, gloopy poop. HA. Now I need to come up with a devilishly clever form of retribution to make up for being forced to eat a can of cows feet, gums, eyelids and bumholes. No wonder it was so bloody cheap. In my experience, if something sounds too good to be true it generally is.

Friday, 20 November 2009


In a queue late? In a bloody queue late my furry ass! Quite literally as it happens. "In a queue late" was actually "innoculate". Have you any idea what "innoculate" means. I'll tell you what it bloody means. It means being dragged to some ridiculously clean and sterile dump, being pinned down by the long man, whom I had previously trusted, and having a dirty great big needle stuck up your backside! Absolutely lovely, mint, fantastic, just bloody marvellous. As much as I'd like to sit here and explain more, I can't, my butt is too bloody sore. Far too sore to sit for any length of time. And so I'm going to lie down in a darkened room and plot my revenge. They'll be sorry, you just mark my words, they'll rue the day they messed with me.

I love biscuits

The big people have been making a right mess of my favourite room, sticking paper to the ceiling and putting funny colours on the wall. I wouldn't mind so much but the colours are really smelly, and now I can't smell the smells I've spent the last couple of weeks depositing all over the floor. It's not fair, I'll have to wee and poo like there's no tomorrow to replenish those odours.
The big dangly thing that hangs in the middle of the ceiling and makes it light when it's dark had to be taken down tonight while they put that paper up, and I heard the long man mention that it works on "elec-trickery", which must be some kind of people magic, all very clever stuff.
The clippy cloppy woman said something intriguing earlier. It seems I'm going to be "in a queue late" tomorrow. I can't wait to find out what I'm queuing for, I hope it's biscuits. I love biscuits.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

Some day

Wow, what a lovely, lazy day this has been. I hardly stopped licking my bum all morning, very pleasant indeed. Had a bit of a play with one of the little people this afternoon, the one without the metal things on his face. The other one, with the metal things on his face, doesn't seem very playful, we hardly saw him. Maybe he's not eating the right food, or maybe he has worms. I think I'll mention it to the clippy-cloppy woman and get her to take him to the vets for a check up.
I saw a cat in my back yard earlier. I went outside to have a nice poo and a sniff about and there he was, sat on my wall, bold as brass! Obviously I had to have a few stern words with him and I don't think we'll be seeing him around these parts again for a while. At least not if he knows whats good for him, the cheeky, flea bitten, raspy tongued little muppet.
Well, I'm going to entertain my people for a while. I've not bothered with them for a hours because I've been busy posting this blog, which, as you can imagine, what with my paws and the little keys on this laptop, has taken me ages. I think I'll start with a little biting of the long mans fingers, he pretends he doesn't like it but I know he does really, and his fingers taste lovely which makes it a more pleasant experience for me.

Sunday, 15 November 2009

Sadder day

I have no idea why they call this "Sadder day". It's probably the happiest day I've experienced since moving to this dump. A nice lie in and the undivided attention of the long man all day. The little people went out for a while this afternoon, giving us all a nice break. They're lovely, but they're very hard work. And, bless them, I don't think they're all that bright. They only seem to know a few words of English, "get down Ronnie" and "no Ronnie no".

Fried day

Oh, I am getting to like this place. I roll out of bed in the mornings and before I've even finished pooing, weeing and sniffing the skirting boards my breakfast is ready. Not too happy with the obscenely early mornings, but the people all leave the house shortly after breakfast and stay out of my way all day, giving me plenty of peace and quiet.
The lady with the clippy-cloppy shoes was in a rush today and left the door open, allowing me unrestricted access to all areas. It wasn't quite as exciting as I thought it would be, but I did find that I could easily get up onto one of the little peoples bed. It was much comfier than my bed I must say, I think I shall need to take that up with the long man. Not happy at all. A bonus to my new found freedom was the variety of chewable things left strewn across the little peoples floor, and no one to stop me from chewing them!

I discovered it was quite a long way back down to the white paper square, but fortunately there is a long, furry thing on the floor outside the bedroom for me to poo on. It's much softer on my butt cheeks too. Bless him, the long man came home first and, because it's quite dark on the landing, he stepped in my poo and before he had noticed he'd left little poo-ey footprints all the way to my bedroom. I think he was a little hard on himself, shouting and using words that I didn't understand, but I wasn't angry because he did clean it up himself. Hopefully he'll be more careful in the future.


That bloody noise in the morning again, I'll never catch that cat. Same time as before, same shenanigans with him bounding out of the bed. As ever, started the day with a wee and a poo, this time I did it on a big white paper thing and was given a biscuit in exchange for it. Fair exchange is no robbery I suppose, but I do wonder what the long man is doing with all my poo?
Apparently I'm henceforth to be known as "Ronnie". What's all that about? What's wrong with the name my mum gave me? "Grrr-rrrarfff-rrrfff-fffrrrrfffferrr". (Pronounced as its written.) Perfectly good name, and much more feminine. Still, I've found that if I wander in the long mans general direction whenever he says "Ronnie" I get another biscuit. It's all good. Biscuits seem quite thick on the ground around here, he gives them away like, well, biscuits. Don't they know there are starving children in Africa? Still, I do like a nice biscuit, and if we posted them to Africa they'd probably be stale before they arrived. No one likes a stale biscuit do they?


Was pretty lonely, sleeping alone for the first time ever, but at least I didn't have my siblings boney bits sticking in me so, you know, every cloud and all that. The long man and the woman with the clippy-cloppy shoes slept in my room, but up on a big, soft bed, all I had was a tatty old pillow and a blanket. Still, they looked terribly tired so I left them to it, but mark my words, the bed WILL be mine, oh yes, it will be mine!
Had a lovely dream, chasing a cat through a tunnel, and was within a hairs breadth of catching the furry little swine when there was this awful beepity beep beep noise and the long man jumped out of bed. Scared the bloody life out of me.
Started the day with a lovely poo, curled it out majestically on the furry thing near the long man's bed. Was quite proud of myself, but the long man took it away, and I'd been saving it for later. Not in the least bit fair in my opinion, next time I'll hide it under something.
Settled down for a nice snooze, intending to indulge the long man in a bit of nippy, growly fun later when I heard a door slam and found myself alone. And they'd left the bloody radio on, which wouldn't have been so bad but I hate Radio 4. Women's hour was okay though.

Thursday, 12 November 2009


Sat minding our own business this afternoon, me and my siblings, when four pink, toothy-smiley people came bothering us. Dragged surreptitiously out of our nice, warm huddle and made to parade like cattle in front of them. Seems I drew the short straw and was dragged kicking, screaming, nipping and peeing out of the only home I've ever known like some moronic big brother contestant, then transported to what appears to be an insane asylum. Mind you, at least its warmer than home. Don't think much of the decor, although there is the remnants of a dead cow on the floor. Unfortunately its been picked clean before I even got here, not a morsel left on it, just the skin.