I know, no blog last week, I am ever so sorry!
Had so much celebrating to do, what with my VICTORY for all us dogs nationwide and common sense with regards to insurance and “tagging”..... Isn’t great to be on the winning side?
I must give His lordship a big thank you for badgering the Rt Honourable Mister on behalf of yours truly; it’s nice to have friends in high places. Please note there was no payment of any kind, at any time made to the said Rt Honourable in return for his lobbing the incumbent that may or may not have taken place. However I have it on good authority that failure to comply would have resulted in a long walk to and from the train station. No pressure there then! “Power to the masses, my fellow beings.... We won”!
Well it’s here Officially, Spring that is! The birds are building their nest in the tree at the top end of the garden, just by the compost heap and soon we shall have little baby pigeons calling out to their mummy and daddy to feed them, time after time.... I do heat the buggers, if only I could get hold of them... calm down Salvador, it only nature and soon they will be big enough to leave the nest. At this point they tend to land in my garden, but not for long as I am ready for the little blighters... He! He! He! :)
While we are on the subject of my garden, He has had a new room built on the opposite side of the garden, His lord and master calls it a shed. Let’s not beat about the bush here and not call a spade an agricultural item to me it looks like a glorified almighty wooden box with windows and a door. He can call it whatever He likes, it’s big and it’s in my space and I don’t think it should be there without first consulting me, I never get to have a say in matters that affect me... I am a no one, a dog, what rights do I have? And here’s another thing, I shall not, nay never be given permission to set foot in His workshop. The miserable old slug! where does He get off, telling me where I can and cannot go? If it’s in my garden it belongs to me and I can do what I want when I want.
The shed has been up for almost a week and so far the old fart has only looked at the monumental wooden monolith, “it’s all in the planning, Salvador”, He keeps telling me... “Planning, planning, planning. You can’t have enough planning”. I have seen more action from a dried up old slug then I've ever seen from Himself!
I have however seen, when He get around to it, the colour He intends to paint the box... a sickly dark green colour, my Master insists it is “sage” and ”a wood stain not pain that is also a wood preservative” WHATEVER! Another thing, there is another colour proposal to this “other room” in so far as that the window frames will be stained the same turquoise as the fence at the back of the garden, also the interior cross sections of the stable door. Very nice, what He has not told anyone is He nicked the idea from the shed in BBC 2’sT.V. Gardeners World programme He saw a few weeks ago. A case of pure plagiarism, if you ask Me.!
Not an original bone in His body... copy cat!
Till the next time.
Salvador
p.s. Thanks for the doggy bag Denis. ( my number one fan)
Thursday 25 March 2010
Sunday 14 March 2010
Henrietta the hamster
My extreme apologies to one and all, I forgot my blog password and somehow His lordship had deleted my word document link on the screen saver and so rendering me up a paddle without a creek.
What a week it has been, everyone seems to be like the provable headless chicken running around blindly getting nowhere very fast. Have you ever noticed time rushes explosively and before one knows it there is a new week biting your bum?
On the subject of biting and bums, I see the powers that be have once again fallen on their ass with a wonderfully foolish idea for us canines with enforced insurance and compulsory “tagging”.
Okay gang, till now I have been noted for ridiculing my Master and we all know He deserves it. Now at the risk of upsetting the apple cart I have never commented on those who can’t respond here on my blog, but I must voice my anger, nay outrage regarding the “concerns about the use of animals to intimidate or threaten people.” Let’s be honest you humans are only talking about us dogs, after all how may “Billy the budgie or Henrietta the hamster’s” have been known to associate themselves with lager slugging, foul mouth geriatric’s bent on forging their way to the front of the post office counter on pension day? “None, I hear you say, it’s dog that need to be controlled!”
I can understand where you are all coming fromon this one and up to a point I am all for the proposal, but before we go ahead with this I would like to highlight a few things.
Insurance in the event of an accident is to me a good idea if it’s for ones car in the event of said accident or per chance stolen, or house and content insurance to cover the invasion from your local thief / thug or the old cliché “Act of God” a flood due to mans impact on the world’s fragile climate, (can you see where I’m going with this?). What you don’t have is insurance to pay out in the event either you or one of your family bites another species because you “loss it” when they happened to piss you off, so you snapped at them.
For the first of the above there are more companies fighting for your custom then you can shake your car keys at, alas however when it comes to the latter the total can be counted on no hands, i.e. nil, zip, zero or to put it bluntly bugger all!
I am sure if and when such a law were to be placed on the statue books there will be companies fighting to “cover” every dog in the land and good luck to them. Three things come to mind, 1) the annual premium would be at such a level that little old men and ladies may have to either go without some vital basic requirement combined with the cost of “chipping” their trusted and loving companion or break the law. 2) The person likely to have a “trained” dog whatever the breed be will neither chip nor insure his pouch. Furthermore no insurance company is going to cover such dogs and their owners thus rendering them out of the system. 3) There is currently no stand-alone third-party insurance cover for the owners of dangerous dogs and no desire by insurance industry to provide cover against this very high.
I, like the majority of house hold dogs are only a danger to you if you happen to be a bowl of food and such you are history or a threat to our loved ones and in the event of an uninvited intruder to My home its best you look out!
Till the next time ... “Vote for me and I’ll set you free!”
Salvador
What a week it has been, everyone seems to be like the provable headless chicken running around blindly getting nowhere very fast. Have you ever noticed time rushes explosively and before one knows it there is a new week biting your bum?
On the subject of biting and bums, I see the powers that be have once again fallen on their ass with a wonderfully foolish idea for us canines with enforced insurance and compulsory “tagging”.
Okay gang, till now I have been noted for ridiculing my Master and we all know He deserves it. Now at the risk of upsetting the apple cart I have never commented on those who can’t respond here on my blog, but I must voice my anger, nay outrage regarding the “concerns about the use of animals to intimidate or threaten people.” Let’s be honest you humans are only talking about us dogs, after all how may “Billy the budgie or Henrietta the hamster’s” have been known to associate themselves with lager slugging, foul mouth geriatric’s bent on forging their way to the front of the post office counter on pension day? “None, I hear you say, it’s dog that need to be controlled!”
I can understand where you are all coming fromon this one and up to a point I am all for the proposal, but before we go ahead with this I would like to highlight a few things.
Insurance in the event of an accident is to me a good idea if it’s for ones car in the event of said accident or per chance stolen, or house and content insurance to cover the invasion from your local thief / thug or the old cliché “Act of God” a flood due to mans impact on the world’s fragile climate, (can you see where I’m going with this?). What you don’t have is insurance to pay out in the event either you or one of your family bites another species because you “loss it” when they happened to piss you off, so you snapped at them.
For the first of the above there are more companies fighting for your custom then you can shake your car keys at, alas however when it comes to the latter the total can be counted on no hands, i.e. nil, zip, zero or to put it bluntly bugger all!
I am sure if and when such a law were to be placed on the statue books there will be companies fighting to “cover” every dog in the land and good luck to them. Three things come to mind, 1) the annual premium would be at such a level that little old men and ladies may have to either go without some vital basic requirement combined with the cost of “chipping” their trusted and loving companion or break the law. 2) The person likely to have a “trained” dog whatever the breed be will neither chip nor insure his pouch. Furthermore no insurance company is going to cover such dogs and their owners thus rendering them out of the system. 3) There is currently no stand-alone third-party insurance cover for the owners of dangerous dogs and no desire by insurance industry to provide cover against this very high.
I, like the majority of house hold dogs are only a danger to you if you happen to be a bowl of food and such you are history or a threat to our loved ones and in the event of an uninvited intruder to My home its best you look out!
Till the next time ... “Vote for me and I’ll set you free!”
Salvador
Friday 5 March 2010
Like a big fairy minus their wings.
I am going to need everyone’s help here!
Can we all join hands and paws together so we can hopefully contact the living? Many is the time when I have noticed and thus written of my “Master losing the plot”. Now it’s critical, there’s no helping Him, it’s too late.
It all started Monday when He was trying to contact the local medical centre to ask a few questions re His visit to have His annual wee and blood tests. We start with getting the number from the now redundant Nokia N70, only to find once called, “number not in use” displayed on the upgraded mobile screen. Okay, no problem as He dials the same number on the landline portable handset only to hear a “diss” signal and tried explaining this to the receptionist at the local Primary Care Trust. He asks if she had a SDT (direct) line because as hard as He may He was not getting through on the “low rate” number. The lovely lady suggested another contact number with the same result. by now it was late Monday afternoon and to say the air was blue would be an understatement as we were still getting nowhere fast.
On Tuesday morning there was a flash of inspiration, let’s see if there is any updates on the doctor’s web site... good move He thinks, but no chance.
“Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking at this point?”
Still the same response from both modes of telecommunication and now He is very ratty with the whole exercise ever so quickly. Pacing or should I say more prancing about in the lounge and kitchen continually bashing away on both handsets in a vain attempt to make contact with someone, anyone ! PLEASE!!
Back on to the PCT the same wonderful lady from the day before. Mister Grumpy without a bye or leave does not give the lady time to utter a work, He begins to pontificate how as an ex telecoms engineer (“got a B-tech” He keeps telling anyone who will pay attention long enough) can tell something is wrong and a trained ear can tell if the tone on the other end is “line/subscriber engaged and line disconnected”. “Hello Patrick” whispers an angelic voice the other end, sorry but you have called your office equipment suppliers, you must have misdialled. As you’re on, the glossy paper you ordered is in stock. Put your glasses on, comes to mind!
Back at the Trust a very agreeable listened then rang the doctors from her switchboard and attempted to patch His lordship through, alas without success. This was due to a crossover glitch and nothing else, because the lady (what a saint!), had got a ringing tone. Still unable to get any connection with the centre it was time to chill out and take a little time out to gather one’s self.
The drugs don’t work, I’m telling you guys, they are going to have to be reviewed... they aren’t doing the job. Thirty plus hours after He had re-dialled from the old handset the number, He noticed the WRONG prefix had been punched into both sets. The slug!
Having a doggie left eye from a burst blood vessel, this resulted in half to three quarters of said eye’s vision being somewhere fluffy to squidgy; He had punched in “0854” and not “0845”. The blame was laid firmly at the door of the left eye and there was no more to be said on the subject. Silly old fart, so how come all the other digits were okay, all eleven of them? If you ask me the beginning of the end is banging at the door.... the “little grey cells” are moving out, they’re vacating the host for greener pastures.
From under the armchair
Salvador
Can we all join hands and paws together so we can hopefully contact the living? Many is the time when I have noticed and thus written of my “Master losing the plot”. Now it’s critical, there’s no helping Him, it’s too late.
It all started Monday when He was trying to contact the local medical centre to ask a few questions re His visit to have His annual wee and blood tests. We start with getting the number from the now redundant Nokia N70, only to find once called, “number not in use” displayed on the upgraded mobile screen. Okay, no problem as He dials the same number on the landline portable handset only to hear a “diss” signal and tried explaining this to the receptionist at the local Primary Care Trust. He asks if she had a SDT (direct) line because as hard as He may He was not getting through on the “low rate” number. The lovely lady suggested another contact number with the same result. by now it was late Monday afternoon and to say the air was blue would be an understatement as we were still getting nowhere fast.
On Tuesday morning there was a flash of inspiration, let’s see if there is any updates on the doctor’s web site... good move He thinks, but no chance.
“Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking at this point?”
Still the same response from both modes of telecommunication and now He is very ratty with the whole exercise ever so quickly. Pacing or should I say more prancing about in the lounge and kitchen continually bashing away on both handsets in a vain attempt to make contact with someone, anyone ! PLEASE!!
Back on to the PCT the same wonderful lady from the day before. Mister Grumpy without a bye or leave does not give the lady time to utter a work, He begins to pontificate how as an ex telecoms engineer (“got a B-tech” He keeps telling anyone who will pay attention long enough) can tell something is wrong and a trained ear can tell if the tone on the other end is “line/subscriber engaged and line disconnected”. “Hello Patrick” whispers an angelic voice the other end, sorry but you have called your office equipment suppliers, you must have misdialled. As you’re on, the glossy paper you ordered is in stock. Put your glasses on, comes to mind!
Back at the Trust a very agreeable listened then rang the doctors from her switchboard and attempted to patch His lordship through, alas without success. This was due to a crossover glitch and nothing else, because the lady (what a saint!), had got a ringing tone. Still unable to get any connection with the centre it was time to chill out and take a little time out to gather one’s self.
The drugs don’t work, I’m telling you guys, they are going to have to be reviewed... they aren’t doing the job. Thirty plus hours after He had re-dialled from the old handset the number, He noticed the WRONG prefix had been punched into both sets. The slug!
Having a doggie left eye from a burst blood vessel, this resulted in half to three quarters of said eye’s vision being somewhere fluffy to squidgy; He had punched in “0854” and not “0845”. The blame was laid firmly at the door of the left eye and there was no more to be said on the subject. Silly old fart, so how come all the other digits were okay, all eleven of them? If you ask me the beginning of the end is banging at the door.... the “little grey cells” are moving out, they’re vacating the host for greener pastures.
From under the armchair
Salvador
Thursday 25 February 2010
"Things I might find a need for"!
What a strange world we live in and as much as I try I cannot get my little canine head around its workings and your approach to what you guys call the seasons of the year.
First there’s the ever changing day light versus night time ratio. You’re just getting use to long lazy days and then suddenly without warning of any kind you lose an hour from your day and so the body clock goes out the window. What’s with you guys, can’t you make your minds up? The up side is for one day a year I am let out into the garden an hour earlier for my morning constitution. If only you bipods knew how hard it is for us quadrupeds to hold our bladders for 8 hours, it’s such a long time every night, why can’t you people be more understanding and let us “out” when you get up from your bed two or three times in the middle of the night to do your “business”? What would it take to just pop to the kitchen, once you wash your hands, unlock the back door and let us poor mites out for a quick wee and a bit of a sniff around outside?
Then you have the gall to move your clocks forward by one hour six months later, once again without any warning whatsoever. This usually results in a little mishap or two on our part and you guys end up walking into “it” barefooted. If you had only let us out the last time you got up for that little tinkle none of the afore mentioned “little accidents” would have raised its ugly little head.
There is no need to panic right now as the next clock change is not until Saturday PM/Sunday AM 28th March when the clocks go forward. I am merely highlighting the issue in good time so everyone with a loving pet understands what to do at the allotted time and save both parties a whole bunch of embarrassments and a wet foot or two, with or without socks. Why He insists on wearing those silly things called socks in bed is beyond me! And another thing does He have to keep them on for a whole week?....... The smell!
Eight days earlier on Saturday 20th March is the start of spring and am I in for some fun? I think not! He is looking at gardening periodicals for a shed; the only good point in Him getting a shed is the space I will have returned to me in the corner of the kitchen next to the back door, currently full of old dirty boots, battery powered hedge trimmers, sprit level plus a cardboard box full to the brim with “things I might find a need for once my shed is built” so He keeps saying and like don’t we all believe that old story! It’s cool there in the summer when everyone else in the home and garden is sweltering hot. Just the right amount of cool shade and breeze wafting its way through the gaps in the doorway!
I have no more time today to talk about Him and his exploits in the garden, but it look like a spring to relish, I have spotted various “berry” saplings/cuttings propped up against the wall on the decking in the corner just under the Bay tree. What would He do without the garden section of Morrison’s? He spares no expense at £1.50 a time... reckless child.
Ready for change.
Salvador
Friday 19 February 2010
Vain attempt to retrieve !
Is it me or do all humans tend to leave a mess once they have finished cooking? He is, I am unfailingly informed a very if not wonderful cook with the ability to summon up from nowhere a gastronomic cuisine fit for the best in the land while using the simplest of ingredients.
That aside it’s no excuse for what is best described as a home unfit for any self respecting bacteria wishing to set up home for him and his family. Does He not know that age old mantra “clean as you go?” Sadly the old fart fails to understand it is best to tidy up after each session in the kitchen and if not able to do so, how about first thing the following morning and not when you’ve run out of every clean utensil in the home. He has been seen rummaging at the sink making even more mess in a vain attempt to retrieve a lost used spoon only to end up inflicting pain and getting blood everywhere having just found a un washed razor sharp peeling knife. I have no compassion or comfort for the pickled onion of a bipod. Servers Him right.
“The tree may have been shaken, but sadly no fruit has fallen”, is the best I can say! Having piled high every useful pot, pan, knife, fork and spoon found at the back of the draw, used then dumped. He then wastes every Sunday morning from prior The Archers (Broadcasting House Radio 4) to way passed and beyond Desert Island Disc. Not too happy with Kirsty Young, Bring back Sue Lawley all is forgiven!
The food He produces’ is wonderful, in fact His curries as I have stated before in not so many words are to die for. I love that tingly feeling I get after a bowl of beef Madras and basmati rice...Lovely stuff !
Well as you can see from the date above I am a day late in posting this blog for this I am heartily sorry. I can only point the paw at my lord and Master for my delay. He had been due to be away all yesterday afternoon but his meeting was deferred to a later date and so I had a moaning balding flat footed old bipod pottering around the stately home doing nothing. It would have gone down well for Him to just go out somewhere for the afternoon if only to give me some space combined with peace and quiet. No such luck and by the end of the day he failed to attack the content for the kitchen sink..... Messy man !
Living in hope
Salvador
Thursday 11 February 2010
Miraculous Reincarnation
There are times as I wonder through this world if there is such a thing as a doggie god, for if there was I would be praying for my Masters mental health..... He has thrown all His toys out of the pram. Not for any good reason in particular, just for the lack of a phone, make that three phone’s. How many of these strange contraptions does’ one bipod need?
It transpires while “up north” on a visit last Friday He left number one phone behind and is now waiting for it to arrive by post sometime after the weekend, hopefully Monday. “No problem” I hear Him say, “I can use my Blackberry”.... so with all calls diverted to said fruit, life I hear you say can move on. Alas no, you see for some strange reason that phone too decided to pack in, all due to a silly thing he called a 128 bit encryption issue, whatever that means? Basically it was BANJACKSED!
By now he was getting terribly uppity, stomping and had He had any hair that would have been pulled out by it’s roots and to top it all it was only mid day Saturday!
They say that if things are to go wrong they tend to do so in “threes” and yes you got it in one, the local cable company’s service decided to shut down for some local repair work. Here He was, the last life line to the His outer word was now dead, life was just not worth living!
“Telephones! Telephones! Telephones! Everywhere and not a ring could be heard,” to paraphrase an old saying.
I have never seen or had to tolerate such a display of animated language in all my years, not even from him. It must have been his “barrow boy days” rising to the fore. Oh how I wish I could have covered my sensitive ears, after all they were designed to sense the more refined and pleasurable sounds life has to offer to such a humble creature as yours truly.
Alexander Graham Bell could be blamed for inventing the telephone but I don’t feel he is at fault.... that honour could be laid at the steps of the world renowned Massachusetts Institute of Technology (M.I.T.) for their work on discovering the transistor, albeit by accident while testing diodes. But I feel the trouble maker has to be one Kansas undertaker by the name of Almon Strowger who having nothing better to do with his days off, invent the first telecom switch (step by step) thus rendering mass unemployment on hundreds, if not thousands of telephone exchange operators throughout the modern world. End of history lesson!
Thankfully Monday arrived and one by one each phone in turn sprang into life followed by the miraculous reincarnation of His lordship back to His normal state, for want of a better word.
Keep connected
Salvador
It transpires while “up north” on a visit last Friday He left number one phone behind and is now waiting for it to arrive by post sometime after the weekend, hopefully Monday. “No problem” I hear Him say, “I can use my Blackberry”.... so with all calls diverted to said fruit, life I hear you say can move on. Alas no, you see for some strange reason that phone too decided to pack in, all due to a silly thing he called a 128 bit encryption issue, whatever that means? Basically it was BANJACKSED!
By now he was getting terribly uppity, stomping and had He had any hair that would have been pulled out by it’s roots and to top it all it was only mid day Saturday!
They say that if things are to go wrong they tend to do so in “threes” and yes you got it in one, the local cable company’s service decided to shut down for some local repair work. Here He was, the last life line to the His outer word was now dead, life was just not worth living!
“Telephones! Telephones! Telephones! Everywhere and not a ring could be heard,” to paraphrase an old saying.
I have never seen or had to tolerate such a display of animated language in all my years, not even from him. It must have been his “barrow boy days” rising to the fore. Oh how I wish I could have covered my sensitive ears, after all they were designed to sense the more refined and pleasurable sounds life has to offer to such a humble creature as yours truly.
Alexander Graham Bell could be blamed for inventing the telephone but I don’t feel he is at fault.... that honour could be laid at the steps of the world renowned Massachusetts Institute of Technology (M.I.T.) for their work on discovering the transistor, albeit by accident while testing diodes. But I feel the trouble maker has to be one Kansas undertaker by the name of Almon Strowger who having nothing better to do with his days off, invent the first telecom switch (step by step) thus rendering mass unemployment on hundreds, if not thousands of telephone exchange operators throughout the modern world. End of history lesson!
Thankfully Monday arrived and one by one each phone in turn sprang into life followed by the miraculous reincarnation of His lordship back to His normal state, for want of a better word.
Keep connected
Salvador
Thursday 4 February 2010
Modicum of fitness.
I have, in the past commented on my Masters appearance, make that a somewhat lack of the afore mentioned remark. What am I harping on about I hear you ask? He is back on His bike, says’ it’s to help Him Keep fit, surely that term employs that one must already have a modicum of fitness in order for one to “keep fit! ”
Dressed in blue shorts with His name stitched on the sides, so He tells everybody, “Reebok Classic?” strange name for a human! I thought He was called Patrick, but who am I to question another species, especially as they the paragon of the intelligentsia, ALLERGEDLY!
First and foremost there is the bike, now correct me if I am wrong on this one, please! But last time I looked a bicycle is a wheeled contraption, two in total unless my memory fails.... one in the front and the other at the rear! This malogen has none, zero, nil of the requisite practical items. For the past 12 months it has been fixed to his bedroom floor and till now collecting layer upon layer of household dust.
If your mind is at all strong enough, image a pot belly on sparrow like legs with what one can only describe as sad trainers lashed to His feet to help keep some sort of balance. Now if you will reel in horror while my Master fights with gravity to mount His butt onto the saddle. Give up man! He haven’t even started to “cycle” and already pooped with sweat flowing from every square centimetre for what passes for a head. Bald old fart! Once mounted, it’s funny in a cruel sort of way watching as He struggles to fit flat feet into those straps on the two peddles.
“Time is moving on old man, I have a life to live!” Readers, there are dead slug’s that move faster than He does. Whilst peddling on the lowest settings He has installed a television on the dresser top to keep Him distracted as time moves on. I don’t think John Logie Baird was thinking of our lovely Paddy sparrow legs prancing about in Muswell Hill’s Ally Pally in a vain hope to get fit.
There’s no saving Him, He is beyond redemption!
Keep fit, stay fit.
Savaldor
Dressed in blue shorts with His name stitched on the sides, so He tells everybody, “Reebok Classic?” strange name for a human! I thought He was called Patrick, but who am I to question another species, especially as they the paragon of the intelligentsia, ALLERGEDLY!
First and foremost there is the bike, now correct me if I am wrong on this one, please! But last time I looked a bicycle is a wheeled contraption, two in total unless my memory fails.... one in the front and the other at the rear! This malogen has none, zero, nil of the requisite practical items. For the past 12 months it has been fixed to his bedroom floor and till now collecting layer upon layer of household dust.
If your mind is at all strong enough, image a pot belly on sparrow like legs with what one can only describe as sad trainers lashed to His feet to help keep some sort of balance. Now if you will reel in horror while my Master fights with gravity to mount His butt onto the saddle. Give up man! He haven’t even started to “cycle” and already pooped with sweat flowing from every square centimetre for what passes for a head. Bald old fart! Once mounted, it’s funny in a cruel sort of way watching as He struggles to fit flat feet into those straps on the two peddles.
“Time is moving on old man, I have a life to live!” Readers, there are dead slug’s that move faster than He does. Whilst peddling on the lowest settings He has installed a television on the dresser top to keep Him distracted as time moves on. I don’t think John Logie Baird was thinking of our lovely Paddy sparrow legs prancing about in Muswell Hill’s Ally Pally in a vain hope to get fit.
There’s no saving Him, He is beyond redemption!
Keep fit, stay fit.
Savaldor
Thursday 28 January 2010
I’ve got it off my chest.
As each day passes on this mortal coil we call earth I despair with Him, if He is an example of mankind you best abandon all hope if He is anything to go by. Is it generic in bipods or has faith been unkind and struck a harsh blow to my lord and Master alone? If the latter, I ask you “what am I to do with the Plank”, there is no saving Him!
“W.A.L.K. and walkies!”
Let’s get a few things straight and out in the open right here, right new.... first and foremost I, we dogs, should I say can spell and understand every word you guys utter. We just choose not to tell all and sundry, but to keep it from the human world as we don’t need or want to be in the limelight anymore then we already are.
“W- A- L- K” and that other one “has anyone seen the L-E-A-D “are really patronising and thus we dogs treat both with the contempt they deserve. Our jumping up and down like a demented banshee on amphetamines while at the same time running around your feet in ever decreasing circles is not a sign of excitement. We are trying to get you humans to stop the rattling of chains’ or leads in mid air in a feeble and vain attempt to attract our attrition is ever so child like... there! I said it! I’ve got it off my chest
I am not a child nor, as He would have it “a puppy”, I am a fully grown up dog, albeit short in stature, but big in the ways of the world and canine life. He and all you guys are always acting in such a manner that in any other situation in your everyday life would have you locked up and the keys thrown away. Incrassation, mainly for His own safety would be the order of the day, so why do it to me... please cease!
While I am on my soap box, who in their right mind came up with “walkies”? Let’s see what the dictionary has to say, quote.... “an indication to a dog that you are going to take it for a walk!” I do despair, it’s me who takes Him out and about for His wellbeing, and I only tag along to make sure He keeps out of trouble and so I can call for help if he falls over AGAIN!
On a lighter note I had the place all to myself yesterday (Wednesday) except for the Lady next door popping in every so often to let me out into the back garden and feed me. It transpired His old friend John “C” had flown in from Toronto, Canada on his way to a holiday in Europe and was in town for the day.... Lucky me! :)
Yours always
Salvador
“W.A.L.K. and walkies!”
Let’s get a few things straight and out in the open right here, right new.... first and foremost I, we dogs, should I say can spell and understand every word you guys utter. We just choose not to tell all and sundry, but to keep it from the human world as we don’t need or want to be in the limelight anymore then we already are.
“W- A- L- K” and that other one “has anyone seen the L-E-A-D “are really patronising and thus we dogs treat both with the contempt they deserve. Our jumping up and down like a demented banshee on amphetamines while at the same time running around your feet in ever decreasing circles is not a sign of excitement. We are trying to get you humans to stop the rattling of chains’ or leads in mid air in a feeble and vain attempt to attract our attrition is ever so child like... there! I said it! I’ve got it off my chest
I am not a child nor, as He would have it “a puppy”, I am a fully grown up dog, albeit short in stature, but big in the ways of the world and canine life. He and all you guys are always acting in such a manner that in any other situation in your everyday life would have you locked up and the keys thrown away. Incrassation, mainly for His own safety would be the order of the day, so why do it to me... please cease!
While I am on my soap box, who in their right mind came up with “walkies”? Let’s see what the dictionary has to say, quote.... “an indication to a dog that you are going to take it for a walk!” I do despair, it’s me who takes Him out and about for His wellbeing, and I only tag along to make sure He keeps out of trouble and so I can call for help if he falls over AGAIN!
On a lighter note I had the place all to myself yesterday (Wednesday) except for the Lady next door popping in every so often to let me out into the back garden and feed me. It transpired His old friend John “C” had flown in from Toronto, Canada on his way to a holiday in Europe and was in town for the day.... Lucky me! :)
Yours always
Salvador
Thursday 21 January 2010
Get Thee behind me Satan!
There are times I despair with you bi-pods, you let us dogs out into the garden for us to do “things” and then forget all about the fact that; a) it’s cold outside, b) we don’t like the dark and c) dogs get very bored rigid ever so quickly when left alone for too long.
Distraction is the word I would like to blame for what happened next.......
Was it my fault that He left His rubbish bags on the decking and not in the wheelie bin a mere ten feet from the back door? Slovenliness untidy careless, call it what you will it was all His doing not mine, so why should I get the blame? If you leave a big bag full of exciting smells at the back door then “kick” your dog out into the path of temptation what do you expect. ...... Get Thee behind me Satan!
He was in the kitchen cooking, AGAIN! The Archers blaring away in the background on His all singing super duper DAB, that’s a Digital Audio Broadcasting radio to the uninitiated. He has no knowledge as to whether I was indoors or out; all that seemed to matter was the goings on in The Bull, Ambridge.
Ambridge! It’s a fictional village that has been hoodwinking the masses since time began or in human terms the early 50’s, the 1950’s that is. The Bull has never pulled a pint or severed a ploughman lunch EVER! I am getting really fed up at this point so start investigating the contents of one of the big black bags...
To see the contents of said bag needed me to open or should I say undergo exhaustive pawing from the side as opposed to undoing the knot at the top, we canines tend to fail on that front, but claws can rip a rubbish bag quicker than a rat up a drain pipe.
It was F.U.N. all the way, paper, plastic bottles and cartons, not forgetting six day old fish heads and bones all over the deck, getting into the groves in the boards, what wonderful smells. Then I hear His master’s voice... He’s calling me; the old fart is getting forgetful. “I am here, outside in the cold and dark you Muppet!”
“Step back Salvador, refute any suggestion or blame as to your part in the content of bag blowing all over His pride and joy” I tell myself. “A big fellow did it old boy and ran away!”
It’s not working; He can’t hear me with all His shouting. He’s deaf as well as daft! I ran to the lounge and hunkered down on my comfy armchair, the one with the three soft cushions, one big and two much smaller ones. The door bell goes and still the shouting goes on and on and on!
When will he give up? Kitchen! Kitchen! Kitchen! Does he not know any other words, when will he give it a rest? I don’t wish to go to the kitchen, I am quite happy here thank you.
Well in the end I moved to the “kitchen”, if only for a quite life but he is not talking to me. He isn’t a happy bunny, wonder why? What have I done, I can’t see what all the fuss is about? After all I was only investigating because I was bored.
Keeping my head down.
Savaldor
Distraction is the word I would like to blame for what happened next.......
Was it my fault that He left His rubbish bags on the decking and not in the wheelie bin a mere ten feet from the back door? Slovenliness untidy careless, call it what you will it was all His doing not mine, so why should I get the blame? If you leave a big bag full of exciting smells at the back door then “kick” your dog out into the path of temptation what do you expect. ...... Get Thee behind me Satan!
He was in the kitchen cooking, AGAIN! The Archers blaring away in the background on His all singing super duper DAB, that’s a Digital Audio Broadcasting radio to the uninitiated. He has no knowledge as to whether I was indoors or out; all that seemed to matter was the goings on in The Bull, Ambridge.
Ambridge! It’s a fictional village that has been hoodwinking the masses since time began or in human terms the early 50’s, the 1950’s that is. The Bull has never pulled a pint or severed a ploughman lunch EVER! I am getting really fed up at this point so start investigating the contents of one of the big black bags...
To see the contents of said bag needed me to open or should I say undergo exhaustive pawing from the side as opposed to undoing the knot at the top, we canines tend to fail on that front, but claws can rip a rubbish bag quicker than a rat up a drain pipe.
It was F.U.N. all the way, paper, plastic bottles and cartons, not forgetting six day old fish heads and bones all over the deck, getting into the groves in the boards, what wonderful smells. Then I hear His master’s voice... He’s calling me; the old fart is getting forgetful. “I am here, outside in the cold and dark you Muppet!”
“Step back Salvador, refute any suggestion or blame as to your part in the content of bag blowing all over His pride and joy” I tell myself. “A big fellow did it old boy and ran away!”
It’s not working; He can’t hear me with all His shouting. He’s deaf as well as daft! I ran to the lounge and hunkered down on my comfy armchair, the one with the three soft cushions, one big and two much smaller ones. The door bell goes and still the shouting goes on and on and on!
When will he give up? Kitchen! Kitchen! Kitchen! Does he not know any other words, when will he give it a rest? I don’t wish to go to the kitchen, I am quite happy here thank you.
Well in the end I moved to the “kitchen”, if only for a quite life but he is not talking to me. He isn’t a happy bunny, wonder why? What have I done, I can’t see what all the fuss is about? After all I was only investigating because I was bored.
Keeping my head down.
Savaldor
Thursday 14 January 2010
The Smell is Devine.
Thanks to the weather still stopping everything in its tracks I have had to put up with the old fart watching my every move, thus my rushing this communiqué, He is not going out doors as he fears falling over. Not so! It’s His inability to get up without much help once He has fallen, poor old sod. If only His type (humans) had four legs as opposed to only two, the chance of slipping let alone falling over are very slim to zero.
If there is anything is this world that we dogs go wild about is smells! We can smell more things than any other beings on this planet regardless of how miniscule the trace may be, we shall sniff it out. You can try and hide that bar of chocolate, we know where it is and pester you till we break your stubbiness and let us have a bit if not all of the goodies. Why do you give into to us is simple, the love we give you when we greet you with on your return home from a hard day’s work and as for those big brown eyes.... how can anyone resist? If all else fails there is the old fallback failsafe constant “pawing and whimpering”, (works for me).
There are two Ruby’s’ I love in this world, the first is my unrequited love for the redhead Spaniel in the house that backs onto our garden and then there is what my cockney Master calls a “Ruby Murray”. It’s hot I know, but boy the after burn in the mouth is a thrill to savour and the smells drive me to distraction. His lordship always makes far too much and thus I get a morsel or two chucked my way.
I tend, as you know to pour scorn on my Master for his silly little ways, however he does show an inspirational side, alas only in His cooking of Indian food.
Tonight’s menu is Tenderise Tandoori Brest of Chicken on a bed of saffron Basmati rice cooked in a homemade chicken stock. Bombay potato and garden pea Aloo with a Mushroom Bhaji side dish. Cannot wait!
Happy eating
Salvador
If there is anything is this world that we dogs go wild about is smells! We can smell more things than any other beings on this planet regardless of how miniscule the trace may be, we shall sniff it out. You can try and hide that bar of chocolate, we know where it is and pester you till we break your stubbiness and let us have a bit if not all of the goodies. Why do you give into to us is simple, the love we give you when we greet you with on your return home from a hard day’s work and as for those big brown eyes.... how can anyone resist? If all else fails there is the old fallback failsafe constant “pawing and whimpering”, (works for me).
There are two Ruby’s’ I love in this world, the first is my unrequited love for the redhead Spaniel in the house that backs onto our garden and then there is what my cockney Master calls a “Ruby Murray”. It’s hot I know, but boy the after burn in the mouth is a thrill to savour and the smells drive me to distraction. His lordship always makes far too much and thus I get a morsel or two chucked my way.
I tend, as you know to pour scorn on my Master for his silly little ways, however he does show an inspirational side, alas only in His cooking of Indian food.
Tonight’s menu is Tenderise Tandoori Brest of Chicken on a bed of saffron Basmati rice cooked in a homemade chicken stock. Bombay potato and garden pea Aloo with a Mushroom Bhaji side dish. Cannot wait!
Happy eating
Salvador
Thursday 7 January 2010
“Avert your eyes"
There I was having a well earned late morning dreaming of warmer days when His lordship decided to get up out of bed and feed the birds. I don’t mine but what with everything being all white and fluffy and ever so freezing cold under foot and other little parts of a dogs lower body parts. We were not bread for these adverse conditions!
“Avert your eyes, I’m warning you! “
I can understand Him wishing to feed those creepy winged characters of low moral standards taking up residence in my garden, but the sight of this odd shaped bi-pod dressed only in boxers and curry stains spuriously splattered on His tee shirt from last night’s take away is not for the faint hearted. Then there’s the matured slippers covering the feet, they have seen better days for what’s left of then and as foe the smell, even a strong stomached canine such as yours truly finds it hard to stand their stench at the best of times!
“It’s still snowing” you total burke!
How on earth does he think any self respecting feathered vertebrate is going to; a) locate the food and or, b) is daft enough to even think of leaving the warmth of their nest to go looking for scraps on a frozen patio table in 10” of snow and still falling. Forget “burke” and substitute “MUPPET”.
Hopefully the snow will be gone soon and I can get my well deserved rest and His total attention, after all snow and birds come and go but Salvador is here to stay.
Till we meet again same place next week!
Keep the sunny side up and the greasy side down Gang.
Yours
Salvador
“Avert your eyes, I’m warning you! “
I can understand Him wishing to feed those creepy winged characters of low moral standards taking up residence in my garden, but the sight of this odd shaped bi-pod dressed only in boxers and curry stains spuriously splattered on His tee shirt from last night’s take away is not for the faint hearted. Then there’s the matured slippers covering the feet, they have seen better days for what’s left of then and as foe the smell, even a strong stomached canine such as yours truly finds it hard to stand their stench at the best of times!
“It’s still snowing” you total burke!
How on earth does he think any self respecting feathered vertebrate is going to; a) locate the food and or, b) is daft enough to even think of leaving the warmth of their nest to go looking for scraps on a frozen patio table in 10” of snow and still falling. Forget “burke” and substitute “MUPPET”.
Hopefully the snow will be gone soon and I can get my well deserved rest and His total attention, after all snow and birds come and go but Salvador is here to stay.
Till we meet again same place next week!
Keep the sunny side up and the greasy side down Gang.
Yours
Salvador
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