Opposable thumbs and lovely cake crumbs

Apparently we're to have an important visitor soon, some guy by the name of Chris Mazday, or something like that. From what I've so far ascertained he will be bringing gifts for us all with him. I hope I get biscuits, I love biscuits. He must be a very important person because the long man and the clippy cloppy woman have spent all day decorating the house with the most vulgar and garish ornaments it has ever been my misfortune to sniff. They've also put a dirty great big tree in the corner of the room and covered it with shiny balls and lights. It doesn't smell like any tree I've ever encountered though, in fact it smells quite plasticky.

There were a lot of guests for me to play with today, a few of them I've met before but there were a few new faces. A few of them were little people, but not as little as my little people. One lady, with a black furry coat on, was especially nice to me. She smelled lovely, like lavender and biscuits. I don't know if I've ever mentioned it, but I love biscuits. They all had cake to eat, which meant I had cake to eat too. The long man kept sneaking me a bit every now and then when the clippy cloppy woman wasn't looking. And the furry coated woman kept dropping bits in her lap, I think on purpose so I could "share the wealth". I like cake. Cake and biscuits. Biscuits best, but cakes are nice too.

Well, time to take the long man for his walk, so I'll have to love you and leave you for now. I must say, even if it is a bit of a bind, I do quite enjoy having my people. It's a bit of company for me, and they're very little trouble really. Plus, the lack of an opposable thumb makes it hard for me to open the biscuit barrel, or operate a tin opener, so they do come in useful.

Sickly sweet and cheesy feet

My assault on the long man and the clippy cloppy womans bed has commenced! This morning, when the clinky tinkly noises from the man that brings the white water that the little people drink woke me, and it was still dark, I began stage one of operation shift-up-people-I-want-this-bed. (Not the catchiest operation name I'll admit but I think, descriptively, I've nailed it.) Ever so quietly I slipped my head beneath the covers near the long mans feet, which, incidentally, smell lovely and taste of cheese, before wriggling and crawling up towards the other end. You could've sliced through the tension with one of those things the people use to put that yellow stuff on their bread. I froze and held my breath everytime the clippy cloppy woman, who is an annoyingly light and restless sleeper, moved, mumbled or made that snorty noise. My nerves were well and truly wracked by the time I approached my ultimate destination. As I neared my goal I began to get more and more excited, until, after what seemed like an age, my head popped out from underneath the covers right near the long mans chin. Before I knew it my tail had involuntarily started to wag, hitting him in the chest. He stirred and opened his eyes, I thought the game was up, but no, to my surprise he smiled, said "good girl" and pulled me close. Ooooh he was sooooo warm, it was like being back in the pile of my siblings when I was at the rescue centre and before I knew it I was asleep again, dreaming of big, bright and tasty chewy things that floated all around me, and for some odd reason a black plastic bag. Go figure.

At some point later I felt the clippy cloppy woman begin to stir, and before I knew it she'd flung her arm across the long mans body, her hand coming to rest on my tummy. I was mortified, convinced all my hard work tunneling under the covers had been wasted and I was soon to be returned to the floor, but no! She simply said "whats this?", the long man laughed and said "sorry baby" (Oh they're so sickly sweet sometimes.), she made a tutty noise and all was quiet again. Result! I'm beginning to think the long man, for all his shouty, sweary bravado, is probably the weak link in my enemies defences. I shall exploit that fact and, mark my words, before long, in the battle of the bed, I SHALL BE VICTORIOUS.

Spinning beds and poorly heads

The long man is very excited at the moment. Yesterday he got his "pride and joy" back, a funny metal thing called a "Vespa". It's very noisy, very smoky, very smelly, and to cap it all since it returned to take up residence in MY back yard he's spent most of his time rubbing it with stuff and making it all shiny. I do hope the novelty wears off soon.

Went for a lovely long walk this afternoon, once I'd managed to drag him away from my main rival for his affections for long enough. We went to the shops. It took quite some time what with strangers bothering us every ten paces, and not very bright strangers either, ooohing and ahhhing like demented morons, but we eventually made it there and back. Oh and speaking of morons, I'm sure he thinks I'm one too! Whenever I take him out he stops at every road and says "wait Ronnie wait", and then tells me when it's safe to cross over. The cheek of it. As if I'm not capable of assertaining when its safe to cross a bloody road. I mean come on, how much brain power does it take to know not to step in front of one of those big, metal, smelly things? I swear he'll be reminding me to breathe next.

Later on the long man left his drink on the floor while he went to pee in the bowl upstairs that I drink from at night. (Not sure if that particular practice is the most hygenic but I'll let it slide for now since I do have a habit of peeing where he keeps his shoes.) Anyway, I digress. Since he was gone I thought I'd finish the drink off, it's apparently called "whine" which I've always thought an odd name. Now, however, I can see where that comes from! My goodness I was poorly, I whined like a baby. The room went all wonky and things kept spinning around me. I thought I'd best go to bed but the bed wouldn't stay still long enough. At one point I thought to myself "When that bed comes around again I'm on it" but by George it was going so fast I completely missed and banged my chin on the chair leg. Cue more whining from yours truly. Eventually I found it was easier to crawl on my belly and sneak up on it. Result. Never drinking that stuff again.

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.

Walkies suck

Well, what a day, where to start? Many's the time I've squatted in the back yard, squeezing a curly poo out, and wondered "what the hell is on the other side of that gate?" Well today I found out, and to tell you the truth it's not nearly as exciting as I thought it would be. For one thing, it's very smelly, and not in a good way. The neighbourhood cats seem to think the passage down the side of my house is their own personal lavatory, that has GOT to change. And what the hell are those big, noisy, smelly, metal boxes full of people that race around out there? Bloody dangerous if you ask me. And another thing, I'm quite capable of deciding where I want to walk and at what speed, so what's the big idea of the long man tying a rope to my collar and dragging me everywhere?
Finally we got back home, just in time for the long man to change into another shirt and bugger off out again to something called the "mans hit 'im arch". Goodness knows what that's all about, but he came home several hours later moaning about the "same old city, another bloody draw". I think there was something wrong with him because he was staggering all over and stinking of polo mints.

The clippy cloppy woman also went out, with the little people in tow, giving me a nice break. I note with interest that the little people don't have ropes around THEIR necks when they leave the house, and they're much more unruly than I am, so what's the story with that? I'm beginning to feel like a second class citizen in this dump. If anyone from the dogs trust happens to be reading this, your help would be greatly appreciated.

When the clippy cloppy woman and the little people returned they brought another little person with them. I tried to make him feel as welcome as I could, showered him with slobbery, nippy, jumpy attention but he was a little shy and hid behind the chair making "eeek eeek" noises until the clippy cloppy woman slung me out. See what I mean, bloody favouritism at best, some might call it rascism!

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.