Thursday, 11 March 2010

Call a spayed a spayed

Now I have, in an attempt to educate myself further, read quite a lot about the 1939-1945 conflict with Germany and, more relevantly to this post, the rise and fall of the Nazi party. The atrocities carried out by this frankly evil shower are beyond belief, and it was only a matter of time before both the long man's Grandfathers decided enough was enough and, together with a gang of their pals, went out there and gave the Germans a good old kicking. After a long struggle they defeated Hitler, who only had one ball, Goering, who had two but very small, Himler, who was very similar, poor old Goebbels, who had no balls at all, and all their cohorts. Not only did the long man's Grandfathers fight the good fight, but his Grandmothers also had to suffer terrible hardships such as forgoing bananas and having to substitute gravy browning for stockings. Now, aside from many, many other vile acts and beliefs, one thing that the Nazi's were rather keen on was something called "eugenics". This included some Teutonic tosser by the name of Josef Mengele performing forced hysterectomies on many women, and was one of the things that said Grandparents tried to ensure would never happen again. Well I'm here to tell you, puppy fans, that eugenics is alive and kicking and being performed at the Vets4Pets veterinary clinic in Leyland to this very day! There was I expecting to have my nails clipped or my bottom checked, as usually happens when the long man takes me there, when I felt a sharp scratch on my leg and passed out, only to awake several hours later in a cage, feeling nauseus, with a lamp shade on my head and my uterus in a bucket. Happy? I most certainly am not. The long man came to collect me much later with a nervous smile on his face and a pocket full of biscuits. Just when I start to think that man cannot possible sink any lower he goes out of his way to prove me wrong. I swear the only thing stopping me from attempting to tear his throat out as he sleeps is the cold-war doctrine of mutually assured destruction. That and this bloody lamp shade. It's not all bad news though. For one thing I hate kids anyway, and I am getting a lot more biscuits than usual.

Aside from having my canine rights completely disregarded and my womb horribly violated it's not been such a bad week. Home is fast getting back to how I remember it. Lots of tickles, lots of walking and lots of biscuits. I have also almost competely re-scented every room in the house. That fat, flat faced white cat from over the road got the shock of its short life yesterday when it jumped over my back gate and came face to face with yours truly. If not for this infernal cone I'd have had the little bugger too.

The clippy cloppy woman is still being very nice to me and, since the debacle that resulted in the loss of my ovaries, has become my favourite person by a long chalk. She still has issues with sharing, especially when it comes to the bed, but I'm sure that, given time, we will come to some mutually beneficial arrangement. Especially if she exiles the long man to the spare room.

I have been escorting the little people to school every morning this week. They seem to get a kick out of it and I love them for that. School is, apparently, a place of education but I think that the little people's school is failing them badly. I'm considering phoning Ofsted and getting them to give the little peoples teacher a good kick up the backside. They don't seem to have gotten any brighter since our seperation. Their vocabulary consists of nothing more than "can I have?", "get off that Ronnie it's mine." and "but whyyyyyy?". I have managed to teach one of them to get the lid off my biscuit barrell and sneak me a few of my delicious treats whilst the long man and the clippy cloppy woman are otherwise engaged. Maybe I should take up teaching?

I have the itchiest bumhole EVER, and because of this bloody contraption I've no way of licking or nibbling it. The only relief I get it dragging my bum around the furry things or the clippy cloppy woman's bedding, and that, puppy fans, is what I am going to do right now. Adieu.

Tuesday, 9 March 2010

Be my friend

Just a quick note to let all my adoring public know that I'm now on Facebook... please be my friend! Just search for "Ronnie Barker" and send me a request, I am something of an attention whore and will pretty much accept anyone!

Monday, 8 March 2010

Peace in our time

The long man, now that he is back in the company of the clippy cloppy woman, seems to have gotten over his needy, clingy, pain in the backside phase. On Sunday the two of them took me to the clicky ankled lady's house and left me there while they went off riding their Vespa all around Manchester with a load of their friends. The clicky ankled lady didn't exactly seem enamoured by our arrival at what I heard described as "daft o'clock in the morning". Apparently Sundays are her special days when she stays in bed watching her soaps. Once they had left however I laid on a bit of my old charm and she soon seemed to warm toward me. She made me a nice cup of tea with a biscuit. I do like a nice cup of tea, especially when it comes with a biscuit. Two biscuits would've been nicer though.

The lady that lives with the mumbly man came visiting a little later whilst the clicky ankled lady and I were chillaxing in front of the fire. She has hair the same colour as mine and a funny voice that sounds a little like she's singing when she talks. Now I'm not the kind of puppy dog to turn down a nice walk along the canal so when the goldy singing lady offered to take me I jumped at the chance. Quite literally. We went and got Audrey and the shouty woman too, and off we went.

The canal is very interesting, full of things to sniff and chew, lots of bushes to run through and a multitude of quacky things paddling around to bark at. It really does have it all when it comes to walking venues. After a good while we arrived at one of those pub thingies where the people that can't walk straight go when they're thirsty. We had been there for about ten minutes when, far in the distance, both myself and Audrey heard the unmistakable sound of thirty Vespas approaching. I think the shouty woman and the goldy singing lady need to clean their ears out because they didn't hear it. They didn't even smell the blue smoke five minutes later and were only aware of the long man, clippy cloppy woman and all their ne'er do well associates arrival when they came popp-popp-popping into the car park. The long man was very excited when he saw me there, and bought me my very own packet of crisps.

Later on, when the three of us had arrived back home (Oh I do like the sound of that, "home".) the long man took me for a wander around the neighbourhood. Because of my period in exile there were so many Pmail messages to sniff, it took us ages to get back. Almost immediately upon our return both he and the clippy cloppy woman buggered off out, leaving me all on my little lonesome. Peace at last. About bloody time. Fantastic. The radio tuned to my favourite station, a bowl of food to munch on, a bone to pick at, a pigs ear to crunch away on, and my lovely new bed to lounge about on. They were gone for hours, and I was sound asleep when they returned, bringing the little people with them. The little people weren't in a particularly playful mood though, they could hardly keep their eyes open bless them.

Yellow ribbon day

I'll start with an apology to my legion of regular reading puppy fans, it has been far too long since my last entry and I do hope you all haven't missed me too much. I am all too aware how large a hole my absence will have left in your day to day lives, and I promise I will make more of an effort in the future.

Now that my apology is out of the way I suppose an explanation is in order. Over the last week there have been what one can only describe as an unpheaval of simply epic proportions. And just to make a nice change, the upheaval is actually a very welcome upheaval. I'll start at the very beginning. That is, in my experience, a very good place to start.

First of all there was a nice little break from the monotony of the long man and my worthless existences, we went home! Alright, it was only for one night, but that's better than nothing and these days I'm grateful for even the briefest respite. An even better thing about this most recent visit was that the little people were there! The appear to have shrunk for some reason, they seemed so much littler than when last I saw them. They also seemed much more friendly, none of this "down Ronnie" business for a change. I think it's probably a case of absence making the heart grow fonder. And let's face it, who wouldn't miss the Ronster? The clippy cloppy woman has also changed, I think she has been moulting since she seems to have much less hair than I remember.

It wasn't all good news though. The whole house absolutely stank to high heaven of CAT! The vile stench was everywhere. It turns out that whilst my back was turned the clippy cloppy woman only had one of the dirty, slimey little turd buriers staying there for a week, actually in the house! Her standards have certainly slipped since the long man and my departure. Still, after weeing a couple of times, and pooing once, and rubbing myself against every surface I could I'd pretty much managed to eradicate all traces of her indiscretion.

As ever our visit was all to brief, and we left early the following morning. That, however, was not the end of the story. The clippy cloppy woman came to visit us a couple of days later, and she and the long man spent a lot of time whispering and smiling. Then the big news, the next morning all the long man and my worldly possesions were put in the back of the svan (Depressing that it all fitted in there actually, but I suppose material possesions aren't the "be all and end all" are they?) and we went home, this time for good. All our things back in their rightful place, his clothes in the wardrobe, my bowls by the door, our toys strewn all over the back room and best of all a brand new, big, furry, ultra comfortable bed all of my very own. One I can actually fit in and stretch out on. So decadent.

The following day, back home at our house in the middle of our street, was a day for contemplation. Life, it seems, is just one long succession of ups and downs, like a roller coaster. Plunging downwards is scary, but the feeling of elation when you pull out of the dive and start climbing up out of that trough is phenomenal. You just have to remember to keep your arms (if you have arms) and legs inside the carriage at all times.