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