I'm tired. I'm at least 112 years old. I can't feel my back end and my front end can't cope with dragging it along any more. I'm more than slightly confused. It's misty and quiet.
I'd just like to thank those who have tuned into my doggy airwaves in the past and listened to the rants about my humans. I know they're feeling more than a bit guilty about tomorrow.
I wouldn't rule out blogging from beyond the grave. Stranger things have happened haven't they?
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Sunday, 18 April 2010
I'm Still Here
Dear People
When you get to my age, you sleep a lot. And I mean, A LOT. When I'm not comatose, I'm being prodded to go outside. The only long-term peace I get is at night time when they're asleep too. Naturally, I take pleasure in interrupting them to see how they like it. That's enough about my digestive tract.
Old age does have some rewards so you really mustn't feel depressed at the prospect. I think I have mentioned previously that they've got what they call 'builders' in. They are two jolly fellows who occasionally bring some extra companions and often carry big sticks around. I feel a kind of sympathy towards them. They're in and out of that door in all weathers and only get a drink when She puts one down for them. They do get more biscuits than me but I don't want to talk about any of that stuff again. I quite often get a passing pat from them. I'm not sure if they're being polite but it's quite pleasant just the same although I do tend to fall over if they are too heavy-handed. So, in my waking moments, I like to stand in doorways. In my younger days, I would have been asked to move but now? Now, of course, I am deaf and so She may gesticulate wildly until she is red in the face - either from effort or embarrassment, I'm not sure - and I can stand my ground. OK, I sway a little but this just adds to my coverage of the area I am occupying, a bit like a goalkeeper. Add a vacant stare to the posture and you can get away with anything.
Hitherto forbidden territories have become accessible. Their bedroom, for one. She spends a lot of time there these days and she's given up shouting for me to get out. It's quite comfortable, actually. After all, that Ginger Ninja creature, he gets to go up on the bed with Her! If only my legs were stronger, I'd be up there too and then where would she go? My lovely, smelly cushion? I don't think so.
I think my next post will be about the rabbit problem.
Happy Monday!
Monty
When you get to my age, you sleep a lot. And I mean, A LOT. When I'm not comatose, I'm being prodded to go outside. The only long-term peace I get is at night time when they're asleep too. Naturally, I take pleasure in interrupting them to see how they like it. That's enough about my digestive tract.
Old age does have some rewards so you really mustn't feel depressed at the prospect. I think I have mentioned previously that they've got what they call 'builders' in. They are two jolly fellows who occasionally bring some extra companions and often carry big sticks around. I feel a kind of sympathy towards them. They're in and out of that door in all weathers and only get a drink when She puts one down for them. They do get more biscuits than me but I don't want to talk about any of that stuff again. I quite often get a passing pat from them. I'm not sure if they're being polite but it's quite pleasant just the same although I do tend to fall over if they are too heavy-handed. So, in my waking moments, I like to stand in doorways. In my younger days, I would have been asked to move but now? Now, of course, I am deaf and so She may gesticulate wildly until she is red in the face - either from effort or embarrassment, I'm not sure - and I can stand my ground. OK, I sway a little but this just adds to my coverage of the area I am occupying, a bit like a goalkeeper. Add a vacant stare to the posture and you can get away with anything.
Hitherto forbidden territories have become accessible. Their bedroom, for one. She spends a lot of time there these days and she's given up shouting for me to get out. It's quite comfortable, actually. After all, that Ginger Ninja creature, he gets to go up on the bed with Her! If only my legs were stronger, I'd be up there too and then where would she go? My lovely, smelly cushion? I don't think so.
I think my next post will be about the rabbit problem.
Happy Monday!
Monty
Friday, 5 March 2010
A Dizzy Moment
I am sorry that I won't be around to see them get old, that I won't be able to laugh at them, ridicule them, bark at them knowing full well that they can't hear me.
It was only a temporary slip up. I'm not doing it all the time. OK, so a lot of the time but even I have to admit that this was quite exceptional. A hard one to recover from, really.
She put down my food in the bowl on the floor. Yes, the same bowl which has inhabited more spaces than I care to remember and the same floor on which I was forbidden to walk not that long ago. I started tucking in (something I take the liberty of doing, uninvited, these days) and then horror struck. It was coming out of the other end. I tried to retreat but of course, I can't walk backwards these days and She had her legs in the way at the sink and bingo, by the time I'd done a six-point turn, negotiated my way around the washing basket, there it was. In the food.
This caused enough commotion to bring Him running whilst She stood there waving her hands about. I'm not sure that I could repeat this trick even if I wanted to. I get the impression that they don't want me to either.
It was only a temporary slip up. I'm not doing it all the time. OK, so a lot of the time but even I have to admit that this was quite exceptional. A hard one to recover from, really.
She put down my food in the bowl on the floor. Yes, the same bowl which has inhabited more spaces than I care to remember and the same floor on which I was forbidden to walk not that long ago. I started tucking in (something I take the liberty of doing, uninvited, these days) and then horror struck. It was coming out of the other end. I tried to retreat but of course, I can't walk backwards these days and She had her legs in the way at the sink and bingo, by the time I'd done a six-point turn, negotiated my way around the washing basket, there it was. In the food.
This caused enough commotion to bring Him running whilst She stood there waving her hands about. I'm not sure that I could repeat this trick even if I wanted to. I get the impression that they don't want me to either.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
Upstairs, Downstairs
My humans are fickle creatures. We move house. They move my bed. They move my food bowl. They move walls, they move in two extra humans who seem to be overly interested in what's going on up above. They keep disappearing up a ladder through a hole in the ceiling. The other week, one came down quickly and made the hole bigger. He hung there for a bit and then had to have a lie down. This has made it easier for me to see what they've been doing up there.
Humans are bonkers. I can remember back to the days when I collected sticks. I brought them into the house when they were running short and what did I get for my trouble? That sigh from Him, a look of disgust from Her and they never wanted to share my dribble, ever. These two, they're doing it on a big scale and they haven't been told off once. She feeds them sweet biscuits, makes bacon and egg sandwiches and congratulates them at the end of each day. So, where was I going wrong? Will I ever work these weirdos? I'm running out of time so I made a few mental notes.
My first theory was that I was being too direct in serving the sticks one at a time. These extra humans just barge on in with them in quick succession. Secondly, they have a sneaky method of concealment. No putting them on the floor behind the furniture for them. They're attached to the inside of the roof where She can't get them. Cunning, I must admit but in defence of my species, we don't ever resort to vibrating power tools unlike humans who just can't be without one. No wonder they're confused and fickle. No wonder and yet thank goodness, I'm deaf. I think they should just have a nice lie down on some old dribble.
Humans are bonkers. I can remember back to the days when I collected sticks. I brought them into the house when they were running short and what did I get for my trouble? That sigh from Him, a look of disgust from Her and they never wanted to share my dribble, ever. These two, they're doing it on a big scale and they haven't been told off once. She feeds them sweet biscuits, makes bacon and egg sandwiches and congratulates them at the end of each day. So, where was I going wrong? Will I ever work these weirdos? I'm running out of time so I made a few mental notes.
My first theory was that I was being too direct in serving the sticks one at a time. These extra humans just barge on in with them in quick succession. Secondly, they have a sneaky method of concealment. No putting them on the floor behind the furniture for them. They're attached to the inside of the roof where She can't get them. Cunning, I must admit but in defence of my species, we don't ever resort to vibrating power tools unlike humans who just can't be without one. No wonder they're confused and fickle. No wonder and yet thank goodness, I'm deaf. I think they should just have a nice lie down on some old dribble.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
