Attacked by The Squidger

Last night The Owner took to calling me Earle! He sat there watching the TV where we learned for the twenty fifth time how to build an Airbus A380. I pretend to be interested as it keeps him from feeling dejected I guess, that a K9 (with breeding) may have understood the intricacies of building an Airbus A380 on the first watching. On the coffee table in front of him is spread an array of remote controls, one might even call it an arsenal of remotes. There is one for the TV, one for the set top box, one for the surround sound, one for the DVD player, one for the DVD recorder, one for the video cassette player (very old school,) and a spare. So having selected his channel on the building of an Airbus A380 and set the volume level he placed the remote on the arm of his chair and settled back to watch. Again! I curled up on my comfy cushion, which, as it happens, is right below the arm of his chair. After a few moments the remote landed on my head in a very unceremonious fashion. I assumed there was some reason for this being thrown at me so I sort of included it into the folds of my comfy cushion and settled back to enjoy a snooze with one eye and kept the other on the Airbus A380. We were just getting to the interesting part where they bolt the wings on when he changed channels, and then turned the volume up. I was a bit mystified by this! Then The Owner gets up, whilst the volume levels were going up and down quicker than the price of a box of Bonio's and starts pulling all the cushions out from his chair. Having not found what he was looking for, presumably the TV remote, he selects "The Spare" from his now dwindling arsenal of remotes. Tuning back in to watching the Airbus A380 he had missed the best bit and the thing was now airborne, as was the volume level on the TV! I was unsure what he was trying to do. Flicking channels and always back to watching the Airbus program and volume levels up and down as fast as you could say "Bonio's would be nice three times a day please!" After a while of this he got fed up and turned the TV off and announced he was going to bed. I got up from my comfy cushion and left his TV remote on the cushion for him to find for the morning. But it would seem that he was blaming me for the somewhat erratic control of his channels and volume. Ever since he has been laughing as he walks past me and saying "Are you sitting on the remote again Earle?" I think he may be sickening for something.