Reserved parking

Yes, yes, yes, I know. The time between my blog entries is getting longer and longer. It's not that I don't care, it's just that the summer has brought with it so many new and interesting opportunities for fun and merriment that I simply don't know whether I'm coming or going at the moment.

The little people recently spent a week down south in Brighton with their father, whilst the little long man came to my house to spend a week with HIS father. Talk about musical parenting. The little long man took up residence in the little peoples room and is no where near as careful about ensuring the door is closed properly, allowing me unrestricted access to all the chewy little people things. I have had a fine old time stealing and stashing away for safe keeping as much contraband as a baby puppy can carry. Of course most of my booty has since been reclaimed by that infernal clippy cloppy woman and the long man but, due to the shear scale of my felony, there are still a fair number of pieces of prime swag lying as yet undiscovered around the house a whole fortnight after the return of the gruesome twosome.

The long man has, at long last, gotten out from under my paws and started his new job as a carer for the mentally bewildered. He seems to think that the Karma of his noble toil will in some way balance out all the crappy things he's done in the past and benefit him spiritually. My hairy arse it will. I doubt very much he would ever be considered for Sainthood at any rate. It's only a matter of time before he commits some form of indescretion again and spoils it all. It is to be hoped that he cares for his ward better than he cares for his best friend (That's me just in case you're in any doubt.) or he'll be back down the job centre faster than you can say "it was an accident" or "corporate manslaughter".

The long man and I haven't been making our usual visits to Worden park of late. Partly because of him now having to work for a living rather than being kept like some kind of third rate gigolo by the clippy cloppy woman and partly because the chap from the council that looks after the park has told us we're no longer welcome. In my opinion said individual is nothing more than a jumped up little jobsworth with a Napolean complex. It was a particularly hot day when last the long man and I visited our most favourite park in the whole wide world and, as you all probably by now are very well aware, I do love a nice swim. Swimming is one of my most favourite pastimes and these two factors combined led to my decision to cool down by plunging headlong into the pond where the flappy, feathery flying things that float live. They, that is to say the flappy, feathery flying things that float, are not what you would call the most sociable of creatures. Bloody ignorant little sods if you ask me. And so, as I dived gracefully, athletically and majestically into the cool, clear water they went absolutely berserk. Flapping and quacking and generally making a right kerfuffle. All these shenanigans brought the aforementioned Gestapo, sorry - council, officer careering through the trees toward the long man.

Now what the long man lacks in sense he more than makes up for in stature and so, as the petulant parky got closer to the long man, his pace began to slow until he came to a stop no more than two paces from the long man, who then took two paces forward forcing the local government representative to crane his neck backward if he wanted to continue his tirade. A tirade which was met with the long man's gormless, slack jawed, glassy-eyed frown.

For some reason at this point the jackbooted, litter picking midget's tone took on a much friendlier and far croakier timbre as he explained that dogs swimming in the nature reserve was prohibited and asked if the long man would mind awfully asking me to depart. Now I'm sure the long man in no way meant to come across as a pedant, however after pointing out that a dog is indeed perfectly natural and then enquiring as to just exactly where the bloody signs informing us that the pond was a bleeding nature reserve were pedantic is exactly how he appeared. The upshot of the conversation being that the long man and I are no longer welcome in that part of town. And so it was with heavy heart that, after he'd emptied the poo bag he'd been carrying on the path, and I'd emptied my bowels on the crazy golf course, we left.

Parklife

My life seems to be turning into a soap opera, and I'm getting stuck with all the crappy storylines. Get this for luck. Not only did I never know my father, not only was I taken away from my mothers teat way too young, before I could even walk properly, not only was I dumped in a cold, damp, windy rescue centre before being whisked away from my siblings to live in an insane asylum with a dysfunctional pack of people but now, just as I was getting used to life in the circus that is Leyland, the long man and the clippy cloppy woman have decided they don't want to be together anymore and have parted company! And guess what? Do I get to stay in the only real home I've ever known? Do I balls. Did I even get consulted on what I would like, where I would like to go, who I would like to be with? Did I BALLS. Oh no, apparently my opinion doesn't matter. I've had to come with the long man to sunny Salford where we are staying with the clicky ankled lady. At least if I was back at home I'd have the little people to play with, what have I got here? I'll tell you what I've got, I've got the long man. Normally that would be fine but, by Jove, he's absolutely no fun whatsoever at the moment. Moping around like a big girls blouse, he doesn't even smell the same now. He smells all sort of empty. I've tried everything I can think of to cheer him up. I've licked him, nibbled him, sat on him, lay on him, barked at him, even tried my old failsafe of jumping on his back and biting his ears while he sits on the bed putting his boots on. That has always previously got him laughing. Success rate at the moment - nothing. Zero. Nada. Nil. Not a bloody thing. Okay, so he tickles my ears and tummy, but he doesn't seem interested like before. It's not the same at all. No wonder the clippy cloppy woman binned him if this is what he's like, moody sod. In my opinion the miserable beggar needs a bloody good kick up the backside. He's off out in a little while to go and collect his scooter from Leyland. Maybe that'll put a smile on his face. I swear, if he doesn't buck up soon I am out of here.

In the absence of any meaningful attention from the long man I have had to entertain myself in the back garden, digging up the biscuits that Audrey has buried out there. I think the silly girl was expecting she could grow a biscuit tree. Why bother? Just eat your biscuits, then the long man gets you some more biscuits. It's a win win situation, you can have your biscuit and eat your biscuit. And then have another biscuit. Ad infinitum. And I do like a nice biscuit. The clicky ankled woman says that Audrey will have a pink fit when she finds out what I've done, but no one saw me do anything, she can't prove a thing.

There is a park near here. This park is not nearly as much fun as the park in Leyland though. For one thing there are no fluffy tails to chase. I chase the pigeons. I sometimes chase the sparrows. It gives me a sense of enormous wellbeing. And then I'm happy for the rest of the day, safe in the knowledge that there will always be a bit of my heart devoted to park life.

Bitch slapped

Yet another bloody birthday this week. Well, two birthdays technically. It was the little people's turn to get showered with gifts. They're both from the same litter it seems, so share the same birthday. As a result, with a number of exceptions, I had a relatively peaceful weekend. Both the little people and the clippy cloppy woman disappeared off out early on the Saturday morning and stayed out till the early evening. And then, when they did finally grace us with their prescence it was only for long enough to get changed and bugger off out again to go to their party at a place called Cheeky Monkeys. (Very fitting I thought.) They came home, hours later, all sweaty and shiny and running around like a pair of demented fluffy tails. I'd assumed that they would be tired out after all the excitement, I know I am after a visit to the woods, but no. Mad as a bag of frogs the pair of them. The long man said it was probably due to all the sugar they had eaten and that it had made their "bloody eye purr". Something to do with cats not doubt. Those filthy, rotten creatures are the bane of my life. (And the cats aren't much better!)

On the Sunday the long man, clippy cloppy woman and both the little people had tickets to go to the football match. The long man's beloved Man City were playing Portsmouth. I naturally assumed that would mean I would have a lovely, relaxing day, chewing the Sunday papers and licking my privates. But, alas, I was bundled into the car and driven to Audreys house to spend the day there, where I had to put up with the shouty woman, being shouty. I really don't know how Audrey puts up with it, it would drive me insane. My nerves were in tatters by the time my people came back for me.

Whilst at Audrey's house I tried a little bit of her food. I say a little bit, it was quite a lot actually. I intended to take a mouthful or two but my, it's moreish! Not like the dry, crunchy crap the long man gets for me. Oh no, Audreys food is moist, it's meaty, it's delicious! I think I have gotten the pooey end of the stick diet wise. That said, Audrey doesn't get a pigs ear, snout or willy for an evening treat so, as with many other things in life, it's just a case of swings and roundabouts I suppose.

One day late last week the long man decided he wasn't going to go to work. He said he was "pulling a sicky" and that his boss could go and do "four coughs", or something like that. Anyway, as a result we had an entire afternoon together in the woods. I say together, insofar as we were both in the same woods at the same time, but bless him, the long man isn't as young as he once was and tends to lag quite a long way behind and, just like time, this pup waits for no man. I saw many of the usual dogs, some of whom I am becoming very friendly with. And I seem to be getting really very popular with the people the dogs bring with them. Some of the people even give me a biscuit or two, and I do love a good biscuit. Or two. I prefer two actually. Who wouldn't?

While we were in the woods there was one nasty moment. A young springer spaniel by the name of Princess took an instant and quite disproportionatley violent dislike to my sniffing her bottom and attacked me. ME, Ronnie the Ronster, the most popular pup in the park! Well, initially, she got the upper paw, had me flat on my back and was biting my neck. I was just about to show her a few of my moves, you know, slap her around a bit and teach her a bit of a lesson when, out of nowhere, the long man appeared and smacked the bitch right in the head, then kicked her up the bottom. Obviously I don't want to sound ungrateful because he thought he was helping, but I had it under control. I was just about to open a can of whoop ass on her. I'd have had her crying for her mother. Still, fair play to the long man. We're a team I suppose, I provide the brains and the beauty and he provides the brawn. And the biscuits.

Well, I must sign off for now. I have an appointment at my Vets to get my nails clipped. Strangely, it seems the Vets have diversified and are now selling hardware and tools. I know this because the long man said he is going to get me a spade. I do hope he doesn't expect me to do any gardening after I've had my nails done, he will be bitterly disappointed.

Tata for now, puppy fans.

Crowded house

So much has happened in such a short time I really don't know where to start this entry, it's been like a madhouse around here. I'm as tired as, well, a tired thing. And then some. Visitors aplenty, although the much anticipated visit from that Chris bloke turned out to be a real disappointment. Apparently, so the story goes, he turned up in the middle of the night after we were all asleep and snuck down the chimney to leave his gifts. A likely story! For one thing, the gifts he supposedly left for us all smelled suspiciously like the bags that the clippy cloppy woman has had in the back of the cupboard where she keeps her slippers for the last week or two. Bags which have now mysteriously disappeared. Coincidence? I think not! I'm beginning to doubt this Chris bloke even exists.

Many of the people that came visiting were people I am already aquainted with - Audrey, the shouty woman, the lady with the clicky ankle, the cat lady and the lady with the black furry coat - but they were joined by a plethora of new faces. There was a little person that wasn't very little and looked very much like the long man, but not as long. I think I'll call him the little long man. And then there was the little long mans brother, who had a scratchy chin, and the scratchy chinned mans special friend. They were all very smiley, and of course yours truly was very soon the centre of attention, as befits a puppy of my calibre.

The people spent most of the morning giving one and other gifts. I kept count and by my reckoning the little people did the best out of the arrangement by far. They certainly received the most gifts and I didn't actually see them give anyone a gift back. Canny little tykes, those two. Their gifts were also, without a shadow of a doubt, the nicest to chew. Should keep me going for a few weeks at least.

The room where the clippy cloppy woman makes the food smelled delicious all morning. The air was thick with meaty, greasy, drool inducing aromas that must've had the same effect on the people as on myself, since they all ate so much food at dinner time. Especially the little long man and the scratchy chinned man, my goodness they certainly do have good appetites, and just like Audrey they most certainly do NOT like to share food! Thank heavens for my long man, who kept "accidentally" dropping little, and some times not so little, pieces of meat on the floor. I was having the most magnificent little secret feast until Audrey, the bloody nuiscence, cottoned on to what was occuring. She made such a fuss, barking and biting my neck, that everyone noticed mine and the long man's little arrangement. Nice one Audrey, remind me to come around to your house some time and curl a poo out onto the shouty womans bed. I'll frame you, you selfish little swine, see if I don't. No one crosses me, especially where hot, greasy, succulent meat is concerned. Don't dream it's over!

The people all spent the evening laughing a lot and gulping down lots of odd smelling drinks. Goodness they were loud, especially the shouty woman. Both Audrey and myself were really beginning to tire of the peoples wobbly legged shenanigans when suddenly, one by one and two by two, they all decided enough was enough and started to go to bed. Eventually the house was quiet, and I decided to sleep on the bed with the scratchy chinned man and his special friend. That turned out to be the worst possible place to try and get some shut eye. No sooner had I begun to dream, this time about those flappy, feathery, screechy, whistly things I see in the sky some times, than the scratchy chinned mans special friend was up like a shot, making gurgly, groany noises and dashing to the room where the people poo, bouncing off every wall en route. She dropped to her knees and sniffed the bowl they poo into, which can't have smelled very nice because she immediately shouted "Ohhhhh gorrrrd" and started spewing up most, if not all, of what she had spent all day eating and drinking. She is very wasteful, because when she had finished she just left it and wobbled back to bed. Still, her loss. It was delicious.

Ouch!!!!

In a queue late? In a bloody queue late my furry ass! Quite literally as it happens. "In a queue late" was actually "innoculate". Have you any idea what "innoculate" means. I'll tell you what it bloody means. It means being dragged to some ridiculously clean and sterile dump, being pinned down by the long man, whom I had previously trusted, and having a dirty great big needle stuck up your backside! Absolutely lovely, mint, fantastic, just bloody marvellous. As much as I'd like to sit here and explain more, I can't, my butt is too bloody sore. Far too sore to sit for any length of time. And so I'm going to lie down in a darkened room and plot my revenge. They'll be sorry, you just mark my words, they'll rue the day they messed with me.

I love biscuits

The big people have been making a right mess of my favourite room, sticking paper to the ceiling and putting funny colours on the wall. I wouldn't mind so much but the colours are really smelly, and now I can't smell the smells I've spent the last couple of weeks depositing all over the floor. It's not fair, I'll have to wee and poo like there's no tomorrow to replenish those odours.

The big dangly thing that hangs in the middle of the ceiling and makes it light when it's dark had to be taken down tonight while they put that paper up, and I heard the long man mention that it works on "elec-trickery", which must be some kind of people magic, all very clever stuff.

The clippy cloppy woman said something intriguing earlier. It seems I'm going to be "in a queue late" tomorrow. I can't wait to find out what I'm queuing for, I hope it's biscuits. I love biscuits.

Some day

Wow, what a lovely, lazy day this has been. I hardly stopped licking my bum all morning, very pleasant indeed. Had a bit of a play with one of the little people this afternoon, the one without the metal things on his face. The other one, with the metal things on his face, doesn't seem very playful, we hardly saw him. Maybe he's not eating the right food, or maybe he has worms. I think I'll mention it to the clippy-cloppy woman and get her to take him to the vets for a check up.

I saw a cat in my back yard earlier. I went outside to have a nice poo and a sniff about and there he was, sat on my wall, bold as brass! Obviously I had to have a few stern words with him and I don't think we'll be seeing him around these parts again for a while. At least not if he knows whats good for him, the cheeky, flea bitten, raspy tongued little muppet.

Well, I'm going to entertain my people for a while. I've not bothered with them for a hours because I've been busy posting this blog, which, as you can imagine, what with my paws and the little keys on this laptop, has taken me ages. I think I'll start with a little biting of the long mans fingers, he pretends he doesn't like it but I know he does really, and his fingers taste lovely which makes it a more pleasant experience for me.

Sadder day

I have no idea why they call this "Sadder day". It's probably the happiest day I've experienced since moving to this dump. A nice lie in and the undivided attention of the long man all day. The little people went out for a while this afternoon, giving us all a nice break. They're lovely, but they're very hard work. And, bless them, I don't think they're all that bright. They only seem to know a few words of English, "get down Ronnie" and "no Ronnie no".

Fried day

Oh, I am getting to like this place. I roll out of bed in the mornings and before I've even finished pooing, weeing and sniffing the skirting boards my breakfast is ready. Not too happy with the obscenely early mornings, but the people all leave the house shortly after breakfast and stay out of my way all day, giving me plenty of peace and quiet.

The lady with the clippy-cloppy shoes was in a rush today and left the door open, allowing me unrestricted access to all areas. It wasn't quite as exciting as I thought it would be, but I did find that I could easily get up onto one of the little peoples bed. It was much comfier than my bed I must say, I think I shall need to take that up with the long man. Not happy at all. A bonus to my new found freedom was the variety of chewable things left strewn across the little peoples floor, and no one to stop me from chewing them!

I discovered it was quite a long way back down to the white paper square, but fortunately there is a long, furry thing on the floor outside the bedroom for me to poo on. It's much softer on my butt cheeks too. Bless him, the long man came home first and, because it's quite dark on the landing, he stepped in my poo and before he had noticed he'd left little poo-ey footprints all the way to my bedroom. I think he was a little hard on himself, shouting and using words that I didn't understand, but I wasn't angry because he did clean it up himself. Hopefully he'll be more careful in the future.

Furs-day

That bloody noise in the morning again, I'll never catch that cat. Same time as before, same shenanigans with him bounding out of the bed. As ever, started the day with a wee and a poo, this time I did it on a big white paper thing and was given a biscuit in exchange for it. Fair exchange is no robbery I suppose, but I do wonder what the long man is doing with all my poo?
Apparently I'm henceforth to be known as "Ronnie". What's all that about? What's wrong with the name my mum gave me? "Grrr-rrrarfff-rrrfff-fffrrrrfffferrr". (Pronounced as its written.) Perfectly good name, and much more feminine. Still, I've found that if I wander in the long mans general direction whenever he says "Ronnie" I get another biscuit. It's all good. Biscuits seem quite thick on the ground around here, he gives them away like, well, biscuits. Don't they know there are starving children in Africa? Still, I do like a nice biscuit, and if we posted them to Africa they'd probably be stale before they arrived. No one likes a stale biscuit do they?

When's-the-day

Was pretty lonely, sleeping alone for the first time ever, but at least I didn't have my siblings boney bits sticking in me so, you know, every cloud and all that. The long man and the woman with the clippy-cloppy shoes slept in my room, but up on a big, soft bed, all I had was a tatty old pillow and a blanket. Still, they looked terribly tired so I left them to it, but mark my words, the bed WILL be mine, oh yes, it will be mine!
Had a lovely dream, chasing a cat through a tunnel, and was within a hairs breadth of catching the furry little swine when there was this awful beepity beep beep noise and the long man jumped out of bed. Scared the bloody life out of me.
Started the day with a lovely poo, curled it out majestically on the furry thing near the long man's bed. Was quite proud of myself, but the long man took it away, and I'd been saving it for later. Not in the least bit fair in my opinion, next time I'll hide it under something.
Settled down for a nice snooze, intending to indulge the long man in a bit of nippy, growly fun later when I heard a door slam and found myself alone. And they'd left the bloody radio on, which wouldn't have been so bad but I hate Radio 4. Women's hour was okay though.

Chews-day

Sat minding our own business this afternoon, me and my siblings, when four pink, toothy-smiley people came bothering us. Dragged surreptitiously out of our nice, warm huddle and made to parade like cattle in front of them. Seems I drew the short straw and was dragged kicking, screaming, nipping and peeing out of the only home I've ever known like some moronic big brother contestant, then transported to what appears to be an insane asylum. Mind you, at least its warmer than home. Don't think much of the decor, although there is the remnants of a dead cow on the floor. Unfortunately its been picked clean before I even got here, not a morsel left on it, just the skin.