Grudge match

Another busy day with the long man. My goodness he does require a lot of attention. Still, it stops him chewing the furniture, so it's worth it on that score since the clippy cloppy woman always blames me. Today he had an appointment, something to do with a "horse pickle" and having to see the peoples version of a vet, they call it a doctor. I do hope he's had to suffer the indignity of having a needle shoved into his backside like I had to a few weeks back. People say you shouldn't bear a grudge, but I don't see why not. A grudge is not, after all, a paricularly cumbersome object to keep about one's person. I intend to keep this grudge with me at all times. I'll prove the long man is no match for me.

And so, the day started with us jumping into the svan and heading off to Salford where the long man dropped me off to keep the lady with the clicky ankle company for a few hours. I spent most of my time in the back garden, which was today an Audrey free zone, and had some quite considerable success searching out the biscuits that were buried all over the place. Delicious. I do enjoy a nice biscuit.

The clicky ankled woman's house has carpet on every floor, which makes for a much more pleasant sitting, lying or rolling around experience, but I find the fluff gets stuck in my teeth when I'm munching on a pigs ear. Still, swings and roundabouts I suppose. And anyway, when the clicky ankled woman went in the kitchen I just jumped up on the settee and ate it there.

I am currently lay full stretch on the settee back at my house penning this entry. The clippy cloppy woman is still out, which means I have the long man at my beck and call. To entertain myself I have been occasionally wandering over to the kitchen door and barking so he has to come and open it for me, at which point I go back to the settee and have a little giggle to myself. Apparently I'm "fast becoming a pain in the backside"! Ha! I've no sympathy for him on that score, if he wants to know what a pain in the backside is really like he should try being inoculated. (Hmmm, maybe I AM becoming a little over fixated on that particular episode.)

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.

Wee sports

I have noticed that those little people seem to spend all their spare time sitting gazing at the television. I've never seen the attraction myself. That is to say, until today! I saw the most amazing show, it's called "one dog and his man" or some such thing, but the title isn't important. Basically it's a competition, I'm not too sure of the rules, but you get to chase sheep all over a massive field and then get given a biscuit, and we all know how much I love a nice biscuit. I think I could grow to love chasing sheep also. I'm going to apply to be on the show next year I think.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this previously, but for some strange reason (a very welcome reason, but strange none the less.) I get given a biscuit every time I do a wee outside. Never when I wee inside though, not sure why that's the case, a wee's a wee after all, but I digress. I have recently discovered that if, part way through a wee, I clench the muscles in my intimate feminine area, I can stop the wee mid flow, at which point I get given a biscuit. Then it's simply a case of relaxing a little and letting nature take it's course before, yes you've guessed it, that gormless long man gives me a second biscuit. Two biscuits per wee, that's a one hundred per cent rise in productivity, or profit, or something like that. Whichever way you look at it, it's a result.

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.

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.