A rich diet

I have spent quite a lot of my spare time in the woods with the long man recently. The woods are a lead-free zone, I really enjoy the freedom. It's certainly far preferable to being stuck at home in this bloody dump. In fact, the very bowels of hell would seem preferable to this place. Okay, so I do enjoy the long man's attention, tiresome though it becomes at times, but for the love of all things holy why oh why does the clippy cloppy woman insist on wiping things and brushing things and spraying foul substances, eradicating the smells I've put down almost as soon as I've laid them. Oh, and lets not forget the hours she spends playing with that noisy, sucky thing, pushing it around every inch of every floor in the house. I cannot, for the life of me, understand what kind of weird, perverse pleasure she gets from doing it. Give me a good, old fashioned squeeky toy over the sucky thing any day of the week.

On the long man and I's most recent foray into the woods I discovered an odd, new type of creature. They're a bit like grey rats, but with massive, fluffy tails and an amazing ability to scamper up trees in a flash. Very impressive I must say. I tried it myself, it's not nearly as easy as they make it look. I only succeeded in hurting my back side, muddying my face and chipping a claw. Chasing them does make for very good sport. For some strange reason I noticed that their poo tastes like it has a hazlenut in every bite. If I ever catch up with one of the fluffy tails long enough to broach the topic I'll ask why.

When we got home there were some paper things, purple oblongs with a picture of a lady in a posh hat, on the table, well within my reach. Very tasty too. And quite more-ish, I ate three of them. The long man and the clippy cloppy woman were most unhappy when they found out what I had done. Apparently they are made from poorly sea creatures, because I heard the long man say that I had eaten the "sick sea squid". I didn't think they tasted very fishy though.

Labour of love

Whilst on one of the long man and I's regular jaunts around the thriving metropolis that is Leyland yesterday I met a yellow Labrador by the name of Gordon. An unusual name for a dog I thought. I had a very interesting conversation with him. He was telling me he has a job, like the long man and the clippy cloppy woman have. His job title is "guide dog for the blind" which sounded very grand to me. Having been feeling somewhat unfulfilled of late I enquired about possible career opportunities in his industry. His job basically entails wandering around with a person tied to his back and making sure said person doesn't get run over by one of those shiny metal box thingies. Sounded a doddle and seems to have plenty of scope for a little mischievous fun, such as leading the person into a tree or a lamp post, or even a river, and so I asked about the pay. Get this - apparently he gets two meals a day, a few handfuls of biscuits, a nice comfortable bed to sleep in and the occasional stroke. Balls to that! I get all of that, and more, now, without having to lift a claw. And here was I believing slavery had been abolished. Gordon says it's a calling. Gordon says it's a labour of love. Gordon is a moron. His bottom did smell rather nice though.

And now for the big news. The long man took me to Worden park earlier today, and guess what? He took my lead off and let me run free, free I tell you, free as a flappy, feathery thing that whistles. Now I know what Nelson Mandela was banging on about all them years. Oh what a feeling. The wind whistling through my hair as I bounded through the bushes and bracken, whatever bracken is. The long man had brought a ball with him and threw it, then just stood there like a big gormless imbecile. I went and got it for him, brought it back and gave it him and then as soon as I turned my back he threw it away again. The muppet. I had to keep going and getting it, over and over again. I must say, that game got old pretty damn fast.