You know how I mentioned the other day about my visit to the Old Lady's house? Before we go any further, I want to address a sticky issue. It feels quite irreverent to be constantly referring her to as 'the Old Lady'. We were never formally introduced and she's clearly not a blood relative so I'm in a permanent quandary as to what I should call her. She responds to barks and sad eyes far quicker than anyone else and so for this reason I think that she deserves a proper name. Let's call her Special. Or how about Extra Special? Or Extra Special Person and then we can abbreviate it to ESP? After, her sensory perceptions are superior to those of the other humans in the house and she NEVER ignores me.
Anyway, ignored is what I was when we went to ESP's house yesterday (has a ring to it, doesn't it?) because she was actually there. First of all there was the tedious vacuuming and tidying in our house, they let in a nice smelling stranger and we all drove off in the car having left her there. Now, if that wasn't bizarre enough, when we got to ESP's house, they started ripping plants out of the garden. If that had been me, I would have been in so much trouble. In fact, they ripped out so much that they had to fill the car up three times and drive off with it to hide what they'd done.
Got to go, it's thundering and I've got to hide in a corner.
Saturday, 30 August 2008
Thursday, 28 August 2008
A Pair of Shoes
Yet again, I find myself apologizing for my lack of blogging. And once again, I am going to blame my humans who seem to be obsessed with putting things away. But now, it's escalated to new proportions.
Yesterday, after the usual frantic wiping of things and spraying of disgusting smell in my direction, they went out. Nothing unusual there except that they took me with them in the car. I had to avoid sitting on that foul towel that She'd just taken out of the tumble drier, (the one with the brown splodges which, for some reason, they always put in the car if I'm going out on wheels) and off we went to the Old Lady's house.
We watched Neighbours, had a sniff around the garden, and we were off again. I was unceremoniously dumped back home and they drove away. Now, I got the distinct impression that I had been kept out of the house for a reason. Particularly when there was a strange aroma in the house. There had been visitors. But why on earth hadn't they left me there to greet them? Mind you, there's not a pair of shoes around these days so there's not much a dog can do. They don't seem to understand; if there's nothing lying around, humans entering the property just can't be welcomed properly.
Yesterday, after the usual frantic wiping of things and spraying of disgusting smell in my direction, they went out. Nothing unusual there except that they took me with them in the car. I had to avoid sitting on that foul towel that She'd just taken out of the tumble drier, (the one with the brown splodges which, for some reason, they always put in the car if I'm going out on wheels) and off we went to the Old Lady's house.
We watched Neighbours, had a sniff around the garden, and we were off again. I was unceremoniously dumped back home and they drove away. Now, I got the distinct impression that I had been kept out of the house for a reason. Particularly when there was a strange aroma in the house. There had been visitors. But why on earth hadn't they left me there to greet them? Mind you, there's not a pair of shoes around these days so there's not much a dog can do. They don't seem to understand; if there's nothing lying around, humans entering the property just can't be welcomed properly.
Friday, 22 August 2008
All Change
Nothing changes by shouting at me. Nothing changes by shouting 'Listen!' either. I may not be able to stop slurping or dropping clumps of hair on the carpet on demand but I do have a keen eye for what's going on. I can detect a change in the atmosphere, ripples of new determination flowing up and down the stairs as swiftly as their paint rollers. There have been visits from men wearing suits, clutching clipboards and there has been incessant vacuuming. There has been a lot of stuffing things in cupboards and the ordering of other people to stuff things in cupboards. My walking schedule has been disrupted. They keep jumping in the car and going off somewhere, only to return twenty minutes later. And now? Now a wooden board has appeared outside in the front garden. As the dear old Rolf Harris would say, can you guess what it is yet?
Friday, 15 August 2008
Neighbours
She always watches Neighbours and during this time, I get pointed out and so do the little humans for so much as breathing too loudly. I could be in more than a little trouble for mentioning the fact because She tries to pretend she's intellectual and this is clearly not a current affairs programme or a documentary. At least I thought not. Today, I received an email from Jacquie the Jack Russell in Australia and the Gold Coast goings on are indeed worthy of a soap opera:
Hi Monty
I thought I'd tell you this doggy tale about a fellow Jack Russell (male) who had adventures in the night. Oscar lives with some pommy humans on the hill above Burleigh Beach. In the gum trees live a colony of Koalas and recently it has been the mating season. Oscar's house has a véranda on which he is required to sleep at night. A little known fact outside Australia is that during the Koala mating season the young males make very loud nocturnal noises like pigs snorting. On just such a night last week Oscar was guarding his patch on the véranda and going ballistic at the koalas. He not only kept his own humans awake but also the whole neighbourhood. The male pommy human got up and scooped up Oscar from his veranda guard post and pushed him into the bathroom. There were also that night, a family of possoms partying on the roof and making a noise. Oscar, on hearing them, continued to bark and this time it echoed extremely loudly, causing even more disturbance than before. The male pommy human had to get out of bed and remove Oscar from the bathroom and put him back on the veranda. He then went back to bed. Unfortunately he didn't realise that Oscar had been so excited in the bathroom that he had deposited a number 2 on the floor. The male pommy human was in bed when all pandémonium broke out again. They had to wash his feet and change the sheets on the bed! Needless to say Oscar was in disgrace and no-one in the house would talk to him for 2 days.
Best regards,
Jacquie
Nice job, if you'll pardon the pun. I suppose koalas and possums are our equivalent of badgers and foxes. I, too, have fond memories of giving them sleepless nights over the activities in the garden. Unfortunately, I'm not so quick to react these days and last time I tried it, She stomped downstairs,drew the curtains and sent me to bed. However, She always leaves their bedroom windows wide open and by the look of her, the wildlife in the garden is doing a good job of keeping her awake without my assistance. In fact, I've seen her hanging out of the window when it's dark. At one point, I was a little worried that she was developing a strange badger fixation, only one step away from the total madness of watching Neighbours. But now, having received this email, I'm beginning to wonder; perhaps there's more to it than I realised. After all, there are two dogs in the programme. I could always call it research .....
Hi Monty
I thought I'd tell you this doggy tale about a fellow Jack Russell (male) who had adventures in the night. Oscar lives with some pommy humans on the hill above Burleigh Beach. In the gum trees live a colony of Koalas and recently it has been the mating season. Oscar's house has a véranda on which he is required to sleep at night. A little known fact outside Australia is that during the Koala mating season the young males make very loud nocturnal noises like pigs snorting. On just such a night last week Oscar was guarding his patch on the véranda and going ballistic at the koalas. He not only kept his own humans awake but also the whole neighbourhood. The male pommy human got up and scooped up Oscar from his veranda guard post and pushed him into the bathroom. There were also that night, a family of possoms partying on the roof and making a noise. Oscar, on hearing them, continued to bark and this time it echoed extremely loudly, causing even more disturbance than before. The male pommy human had to get out of bed and remove Oscar from the bathroom and put him back on the veranda. He then went back to bed. Unfortunately he didn't realise that Oscar had been so excited in the bathroom that he had deposited a number 2 on the floor. The male pommy human was in bed when all pandémonium broke out again. They had to wash his feet and change the sheets on the bed! Needless to say Oscar was in disgrace and no-one in the house would talk to him for 2 days.
Best regards,
Jacquie
Nice job, if you'll pardon the pun. I suppose koalas and possums are our equivalent of badgers and foxes. I, too, have fond memories of giving them sleepless nights over the activities in the garden. Unfortunately, I'm not so quick to react these days and last time I tried it, She stomped downstairs,drew the curtains and sent me to bed. However, She always leaves their bedroom windows wide open and by the look of her, the wildlife in the garden is doing a good job of keeping her awake without my assistance. In fact, I've seen her hanging out of the window when it's dark. At one point, I was a little worried that she was developing a strange badger fixation, only one step away from the total madness of watching Neighbours. But now, having received this email, I'm beginning to wonder; perhaps there's more to it than I realised. After all, there are two dogs in the programme. I could always call it research .....
A view from the other side
My humans seem to be getting ready to go somewhere this morning so I haven't much time to chat. However, I'd like to share an email I received from my dear friend Jacquie the Jack Russell in Australia. Many of these jokes that go flying around the planet are tasteless and coarse and only fit for human consumption but this one certainly made me chuckle. It just makes you think; imagine if cats could write blogs too ....
Excerpts from a Dog's Diary......
8:00 am - Dog food! My favourite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favourite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favourite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favourite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favourite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!
Excerpts from a Cat's Daily Diary. ..
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards.
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now................
Excerpts from a Dog's Diary......
8:00 am - Dog food! My favourite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favourite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favourite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favourite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favourite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!
Excerpts from a Cat's Daily Diary. ..
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards.
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now................
Thursday, 14 August 2008
The Blind Referee
I thought my position as the blind referee in this house was becoming untenable. I'd already mistakenly responded to a shout to the treats drawer. But the jury's still out and I continue to test the waters. This morning, I put my teeth around Marmaduke (aka 'The Ginger One and The Ginger Ninja) in a loving kind of way. He wasn't perturbed by it all and actually kept making that strange noise, the one that he always makes when I taste him, the same one that Tiger ('The Stripy One') never makes. The point is that I wasn't shouted at even though She was watching. She was staring at us rather intently and she did look as though she could pounce at any second but nothing was said. This is encouraging. This means that she has some doubts about my deafness. This also means that I can continue to make little errors of judgment without risk of remonstration. What fun.
It's not that I don't like Marmaduke; far from it. But he has been a bit cheeky recently and it would be handy to have a little trick up my metaphorical sleeve. It's funny really, outwardly, Tiger presents more of a threat as a very traditionalist anti-dog kind of cat. However, I have managed to scare the wits out of him in the garden. The humans seem to have accepted my rules in the garden as far as dog-cat relationships go; I think it indulges their tendency to fantasise about my guarding instincts. Did I say 'fantasise'? Whoops, oh well, let's not go into that now. Or it could be because they don't actually like him very much either. He doesn't exactly help his case, streaking around here and there, belly on the ground (he's got the shortest legs I've ever seen on a cat), only coming home to eat or infest us with fleas and spending all his leisure time next door. The neighbours call him 'Snugglepuss'. Ha! That's not among the names I've heard them calling him here. Yesterday, he engraved Her hand when she tried to put him in the box to go to the vets.
Conversely, I have never seen Marmaduke streak anywhere or even gather more than a strolling pace even under pursuit. Obviously, it is pointless chasing him. However, the odd sly nibble, just to show who's boss wouldn't go amiss. And if Operation Hush is back on, it won't even have to be that sly.
It's not that I don't like Marmaduke; far from it. But he has been a bit cheeky recently and it would be handy to have a little trick up my metaphorical sleeve. It's funny really, outwardly, Tiger presents more of a threat as a very traditionalist anti-dog kind of cat. However, I have managed to scare the wits out of him in the garden. The humans seem to have accepted my rules in the garden as far as dog-cat relationships go; I think it indulges their tendency to fantasise about my guarding instincts. Did I say 'fantasise'? Whoops, oh well, let's not go into that now. Or it could be because they don't actually like him very much either. He doesn't exactly help his case, streaking around here and there, belly on the ground (he's got the shortest legs I've ever seen on a cat), only coming home to eat or infest us with fleas and spending all his leisure time next door. The neighbours call him 'Snugglepuss'. Ha! That's not among the names I've heard them calling him here. Yesterday, he engraved Her hand when she tried to put him in the box to go to the vets.
Conversely, I have never seen Marmaduke streak anywhere or even gather more than a strolling pace even under pursuit. Obviously, it is pointless chasing him. However, the odd sly nibble, just to show who's boss wouldn't go amiss. And if Operation Hush is back on, it won't even have to be that sly.
Wednesday, 13 August 2008
A comfort blanket
A blanket is a blanket is a blanket. At least that's what humans believe. They have little or no respect for dogginess, the sweet fragrance, gently matured by the warmth of my belly and the sugary pads on my paws, each new day's layer of experience being lovingly sealed over that of the previous day. You see? Just thinking about my blanket transports me to that special place, the sweet cloud that is all mine and unique to me. The only exception to the preservation of this heavenly arrangement that I allow myself to contemplate is when She makes my bed; after all, if this was never done, my odour would permeate onto the bedding unevenly, not to mention the fact that it would be jolly uncomfortable.
I think I mentioned yesterday that the ginger one keeps taking liberties with my bed. However, today, he got what was coming to him. He and the stripy one were bundled into boxes and I know just what that means. The vet. Of course, I'm too big for a box and know how to behave in a car but I know that's where they went because I could smell it on the boxes from last time. Each one has an old jumper inside for them to sit on. And they must have done more than sit on them. A very unpleasant odour indeed. Of cat origin. Need I say more? I can only assume that things didn't go too well at the vets because the smell was even worse when they got back. Now tell me this: have those cats never heard the saying about having to lie in the bed you've made? This is where we differ. My bed smells beautiful and is to be savoured. Their jumpers are disgusting and if that's the way they carry on, I'm not surprised that they have no beds of their own in the house. But that's of little comfort to me when a certain ginger fellow squats in mine.
I think I mentioned yesterday that the ginger one keeps taking liberties with my bed. However, today, he got what was coming to him. He and the stripy one were bundled into boxes and I know just what that means. The vet. Of course, I'm too big for a box and know how to behave in a car but I know that's where they went because I could smell it on the boxes from last time. Each one has an old jumper inside for them to sit on. And they must have done more than sit on them. A very unpleasant odour indeed. Of cat origin. Need I say more? I can only assume that things didn't go too well at the vets because the smell was even worse when they got back. Now tell me this: have those cats never heard the saying about having to lie in the bed you've made? This is where we differ. My bed smells beautiful and is to be savoured. Their jumpers are disgusting and if that's the way they carry on, I'm not surprised that they have no beds of their own in the house. But that's of little comfort to me when a certain ginger fellow squats in mine.
Tuesday, 12 August 2008
A bit of bother
As you may already know, I was greatly looking forward to my week of rest and relaxation. The thing is, I have a sense of duty to preserve what's most precious to me. It's a bit like the doctor-patient relationship - not like the vet-dog one, but that's another issue altogether - and I feel loathed to divulge too much information about what went on whilst they were away.
Therefore, I must apologise for what may appear to be a rather sketchy account as I will only be sharing the highlights and lowlights of the week. As a literary animal, this editorial process is a natural state of affairs but I want you to be assured that this is not rudeness or dishonesty on my part as I have no wish to offend my lovely readers.
Firstly, my cover is slightly blown. There was a thunderstorm. A big one. Now, the one that took place before the humans went away went off very nicely indeed with absolute success in convincing them that I didn't hear a thing. This one, however, was on a completely different scale and Operation Hush had to be aborted. The old lady was clearly unnerved too and kept looking at me. I don't think she'd ever seen me like that before. She did pat me a couple of times and said a few soothing words but other than that, I was on my own. Actually, I was a little upset because I heard her describing me as 'like a demented thing' to someone. I'm not sure whether they'll fall for the idea that the lightning set me off. She's started testing me. Telling me to sit without hand signals. Putting food in my bowl without pointing. I'm onto her now so I'll just need to modify my M.O. a bit before we're back on track and Operation Hush can be resumed.
Secondly, the ginger one has been presenting a few problems. I've always given him a certain amount of leeway as he's a fairly agreeable chap in general. Just recently, though, he's been a little clingy; sidling up to me when I'm resting, stretching out and treating me like a hot water bottle. I am not responsible for him and he doesn't seem to realise as much. It's as if he thinks I'm his mother. And now, now he's taking liberties. He's started sleeping in my bed. I have photographic evidence and this will follow tomorrow and then you'll see just what I'm talking about. Anyway, today, we had a little spat and it was the little girl who intervened. What is a dog supposed to do? It's not as if I bit him, really; it was just a gentle nibble. But who got locked in the sitting room with the two small humans? Me, that's who. And old Ginger-Ninja gets off scot-free. On reflection, I think it's a matter of timing as it depends which human is in the room at the time of the alleged incident. I don't think I'm giving away too much if I tell you that the Old Lady tipped him out of my bed twice when she came to stay so I'm certain that she's on my side. As for the others? I'm not sure. I'll have to watch my back otherwise I could be biting off more than I can chew.
And talking of chewing, I gather they spent too much on holiday as She was eating some very poor quality chocolates last night. This is notable not just because they were of the cheapest variety from a well-known supermarket (I didn't even know that they did chocolates under that label) but because she made a point of putting them out of my nose-reach when they went to bed. Hard times indeed.
And lastly, a very Happy Birthday to another lady whose very thoughtful humans went to the trouble of celebrating her special day. Not that I'm bitter or anything .....
Therefore, I must apologise for what may appear to be a rather sketchy account as I will only be sharing the highlights and lowlights of the week. As a literary animal, this editorial process is a natural state of affairs but I want you to be assured that this is not rudeness or dishonesty on my part as I have no wish to offend my lovely readers.
Firstly, my cover is slightly blown. There was a thunderstorm. A big one. Now, the one that took place before the humans went away went off very nicely indeed with absolute success in convincing them that I didn't hear a thing. This one, however, was on a completely different scale and Operation Hush had to be aborted. The old lady was clearly unnerved too and kept looking at me. I don't think she'd ever seen me like that before. She did pat me a couple of times and said a few soothing words but other than that, I was on my own. Actually, I was a little upset because I heard her describing me as 'like a demented thing' to someone. I'm not sure whether they'll fall for the idea that the lightning set me off. She's started testing me. Telling me to sit without hand signals. Putting food in my bowl without pointing. I'm onto her now so I'll just need to modify my M.O. a bit before we're back on track and Operation Hush can be resumed.
Secondly, the ginger one has been presenting a few problems. I've always given him a certain amount of leeway as he's a fairly agreeable chap in general. Just recently, though, he's been a little clingy; sidling up to me when I'm resting, stretching out and treating me like a hot water bottle. I am not responsible for him and he doesn't seem to realise as much. It's as if he thinks I'm his mother. And now, now he's taking liberties. He's started sleeping in my bed. I have photographic evidence and this will follow tomorrow and then you'll see just what I'm talking about. Anyway, today, we had a little spat and it was the little girl who intervened. What is a dog supposed to do? It's not as if I bit him, really; it was just a gentle nibble. But who got locked in the sitting room with the two small humans? Me, that's who. And old Ginger-Ninja gets off scot-free. On reflection, I think it's a matter of timing as it depends which human is in the room at the time of the alleged incident. I don't think I'm giving away too much if I tell you that the Old Lady tipped him out of my bed twice when she came to stay so I'm certain that she's on my side. As for the others? I'm not sure. I'll have to watch my back otherwise I could be biting off more than I can chew.
And talking of chewing, I gather they spent too much on holiday as She was eating some very poor quality chocolates last night. This is notable not just because they were of the cheapest variety from a well-known supermarket (I didn't even know that they did chocolates under that label) but because she made a point of putting them out of my nose-reach when they went to bed. Hard times indeed.
And lastly, a very Happy Birthday to another lady whose very thoughtful humans went to the trouble of celebrating her special day. Not that I'm bitter or anything .....
Friday, 1 August 2008
Good times
I'm so excited and I just can't hide it. I've watched Him heaving bags, cushions, boxes and more bags into the boot of the car, take them out again, put them back in, shake his fists as they've fallen out and knocked over his can of beer that She gave him to combat what She calls 'packing anxiety' (this happened 3 times, believe it or not and a sleeping bag, a fold-up chair and a towel fell in the puddles on the ground) until the boot would finally shut. I believe that humans do this for fun but there is no observable element of this at all. I, on the other hand, am staying put and the luxury is coming to me. The old lady is coming to stay and we get on just fine. Well, more than fine, actually. She knows exactly how to behave. The only thing she doesn't know how to do is work the laptop so I won't be posting for a week. However, rest assured that I will be making mental notes; a creative being such as myself never rests. Like a policeman, I am never off-duty which really goes back to what I was saying the other day about us dogs being born to do our jobs. Anyway, I bid you all as fantastic a time as I anticipate for myself.
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