Humans have taken a long time to get to where us dogs are. However, they've yet to do it without electricity.

My predecessor, Monty, has kindly given me permission to speak out on behalf of the canine cause in the Harriss household. Before I go on to all the other little niggles, let me address this issue of technology.

Every day, we go for a walk. She gets very excited, smiling and calling 'Walkies!' to which I have worked out I should respond by jumping about a bit and wagging my tail. Only then is she happy. Once we are both jumping around in a state of excitement, she starts the process of strapping me up. Some other dogs, I've noticed, seem to get away with just a lead attached to their collars. I believe it's to make her think she's in control. True enough, when we're walking along, I wouldn't bother trying to pull her (she's quite a weight, you know) but I still have one trick up my leg.

She's not the only one who's weighty and I can bring her to a halt as many times as I like. And I do. What she doesn't know is that when I'm stopping, I'm doing what she does on her laptop all the time. I find out who's been there, how recently, their sexual viewpoint,age and then update my own status. So there's a lot of information being downloaded and uploaded on the pavement, lamp posts, leaves. These things can't be rushed, even if she wants them to be.

Us dogs have been doing it for years. They call it technology. I'd say they're rather behind. But then again, us dogs like behinds. Arsebook, perhaps?

Dear Hugo

Thank you for your message. I haven't been checking back here very often as I'm too busy doing nothing.

By all means, do feel free to take up where I left off. Heaven knows, someone needs to. I wish you the very best of luck.

Kind regards
Monty

Taking up Residence

Dear Monty

I am writing to formally request your permission to post here on your blog. I hope you don't take offence to such a liberty.

I feel that we have much to discuss.

Yours sincerely

Hugo
Dog in Residence

I'm sorry but I've tried to keep quiet, you know, rest in peace. There are, however, a few things I'd like to get off my magnificent chest. I say 'magnificent' because I have to big myself up a bit owing to the fact that they go on and on and on about how handsome he is. Was I not handsome? I was distinguished. I am distinguished, just a little disembodied. The best bit's left, anyway. The mind of a great philosopher. OK, a fairly shrewd old dog. Did you know that they're even doubting my parentage now? Talk about speaking ill of the dead. And it's all because of him. Hugo.

You would not believe what he's getting away with. Digging for a start. If I so much as dirtied a claw in the flowerbed I was told to off. Mind you, I saw Him (my human) digging the biggest, long hole the other week. I do understand how sensible it is to bury stuff but what's the point in doing that and then putting up big sticks, marking the spot. I suppose they don't have a sense of smell, not like us dogs. And talking of which, I've noticed how all the humans are saying how nice Hugo smells. Like a dagger to my heart (if I had one, of course). That dog's doing something wrong if they like his smell.

I am in danger of going on. Therefore, he is a list of what he's getting away with:

Digging
Smelling 'nice'
Having Radio 4 on all night, just for him
Home-cooked doggy treats
Getting Her up at 5 o'clock in the morning
Being given lots of toys
Playing with my old toys
Getting a new collar every couple of weeks
Eating the nice, expensive-looking food on display at the vet's surgery
Having the above mentioned food soaked beforehand
Eating three times a day (it was four until recently)
Going to puppy parties
Costing them a fortune in pig's ears
Defecating in the flower beds, especially under their open bedroom window

Oh, I could go on. But I'm tired. Time for my thoughts to float off ….....

And Another Thing ...

I'm not sure whether or not I should be flattered or insulted. They're getting a replacement. Not just any dog but another black Labrador. Should I accuse them of lacking imagination or congratulate them on their good taste? I don't know.

He's a fancy young dog. I watched them going to see his litter. It's quite handy being able to do that, you know. Like they turn on the TV, I can choose what to watch. Turning this way and that, snoozing, chasing squirrels. It really is quite heavenly. And I'm floating, so no pain at all. But enough about me. For now, at least.

Puppies. They spent ages gazing at the little black bundles as they tugged at trouser legs and undid their shoelaces. I would never have got away with that. Then they went to meet the parents. A handsome father and the mother wasn't bad either. It was Her who chose the puppy. Trust Her to go for the biggest. And it has been Her who has spent the last 4 days and 3 hours going around asking people what they should name the new arrival. How hard can it be? What's wrong with Monty?

He screwed up his face as each of her suggestions was sprung upon him. But I think she may have worn him down. She called for backup and got lots of good ideas from her friends. But only one of them has really hit the mark with Him. Peace may now reign once again as the incessant following of Him around the house asking 'Henry? Archie? Rufus?' will now finally end. However, the peace will be short-lived. In fact, there will be exactly 16 people sleeps of it until it is completely blown apart by the puppy. Then they will appreciate just how accommodating I was. And Hugo shall have to learn to live with my humans. I think that I shall have to take him under my wing.

Last Post

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?

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