Flower arranging and lifes a-changing

I have reluctantly come to a very painful decision today. Henceforth there is to be no more mention of the long man in my blog entries until he decides to buck his ideas up, give his head a wobble and grow a bloody pair. He is seriously beginning to get right on my nerves now. He still smells empty, he still doesn't tickle me like he used to and he still isn't smiling so balls to him, he's on his own. Misery may love company but he can keep it to himself. As I always say, well, as I'm saying now for the first ever time but will probably say again and might do many times, a problem shared is a problem DOUBLED! And that, dear reader, is my final word on the subject.

As it so happens there are plenty of other people around here who are all more than happy to shower me with all the attention a puppy of my calibre so richly deserves. Besides Audrey there are the clicky ankled lady, the shouty woman and the mumbly man from next door. The clicky ankled lady doesn't give me as many treats whilst she is making sandwiches as the clippy cloppy woman does at home, but the work top here is lower and the bin is much easier to open so I can pretty much fend for myself, titbit wise. My life seems to be changing in so many ways at the moment.

Last night I spent the evening at Audrey and the shouty woman's house whilst he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned was at the City match. Shouty woman's settee is very comfortable and is more than big enough to stretch out on without sliding off and banging my chin on the floor. The only downside to being there was that, because Audrey has "sharing issues" (Just one of many "issues" she seems to have.), I wasn't allowed any pig bits to munch on. She can be somewhat vicious where food is concerned. Or toys. Or drinks. Or space on the settee. The other day, in an attempt to bring out her caring side, I gave her my most favourite toy to chew on. I then went and got my second most favourite toy and thought I'd settle down with her for a bit of bonding. I sat down beside her and guess what? Little bitch, she bit my face and took that toy too!

The furry thing on the floor in the clicky ankled lady's house is the same colour as the grass in the park. It's nice, but to my mind was lacking a bit of colour. I thought I would do something nice for the clicky ankled lady and went and dug up some of the flowers from her back garden, then placed them strategically around the back room. Brightened the place up a treat I thought. Admittedly there was still a little bit of soil on them, and on my paws, which was also deposited, unintentionally, on the furry thing, but you can't make an omelette without spilling milk can you? Goodness me, the way she reacted anyone would have thought I'd curled a poo out on her pillow! Such language. That's gratitude for you.

Why does it always rain on me?

The long, and still bloody miserable, man took me to Rivington on Sunday for the first time in ages. Audrey came with us and brought her shouty woman along. We had a great old time dashing through the undergrowth, and Audrey taught me to swim. Afterwards, while we were getting dried off, I told her about the clippy cloppy woman and the long man falling out. She said she had noticed he was a little bit less playful lately. I asked her advice, but she wasn't very helpful really. She said I should either run away or get over it, and in either case I should shut up bothering her. Audrey isn't, it would appear, the most sensitive or caring dog in the world.

This house is very warm, and the clicky ankle lady is forever cooking meaty things which makes the whole place smell absolutely delicious, meaning I'm constantly hungry. An unfortunate coincidence however is that the long man, in his mopey, miserable mood, hasn't stocked up on pigs ears, snouts or genitalia since we left Leyland. As a result I've had to sit munching on the same rotten, stinking chunk of knotted bone for the last two days. There's no hint of flavour left in it and it's all covered in hairs. I'm seriously considering reporting him to the R.S.P.C.A.

On the plus side I'm getting a lot more exercise since we moved here. We go out in the morning before the sun comes up when all the feathery flappy things are whistling, then in the afternoon when all the little people are in the street and then again after the sun goes down, when all the metal box thingies with the blue flashy lights are zooming around the estate. There is an awful lot of dog poo on some of the streets, the dogs around these parts obviously don't seem to take a great deal of pride in training their people. The long man doesn't mind cleaning up after me, he says it keeps his hands warm and stops him from biting his nails so it's all good.

We went out earlier with Audrey and her shouty woman, and Audrey introduced me to a dog called Travis. He's a shitzhu, which isn't, as I used to think, a zoo without any lions, but an exotic breed of dog. I generally prefer my men a little taller, but he is rather good looking. I batted my eyelashes at him and offered my back end for his nasal perusal but he only seemed to have eyes for Audrey. Well, if he prefers the chav type then she's welcome to him, he'll be sorry.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.