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.

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.