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.