Owners Dad's Visit to the Rose Beds

Well, the weekend was a bit eventful to be honest, so yesterday Barney K9 and I kept a very low profile. On Sunday The Owner was up very early, before the sun was peeking above the horizon as I recall and he was singing. This usually means only one thing... we are going to see The Lady Hoomun. So we bundled into the car an a very disorderly fashion. It was disorderly only because there was a patch of slippery ice by the car and both The Owner and Barney K9 finished up in a rather large heap on the floor. Well I have breeding I do, you wouldn't expect someone with such obvious breeding to be rolling around in a layby beside the road would you? Unless there is something organic there and then it is obviously quite acceptable. So, composure regained, we returned to the matter in hand and started our journey. The first stop was to visit Owners Dad and we tried to take Owners Dad for a walk. Well, as I have breeding I don't need a lead in such circumstances, but Barney K9 is just a K9 thug and so requires a lead. The Owner was pushing the wheelchair, I was flitting energetically from bush to bush marking our trail in case The Owner may have got lost on his return journey and Barney K9 walked to heel beside the wheelchair. It was all going swimmingly until The Owner decided it would be funny to wheel the wheelchair a bit too close to the rose bushes to squeeze Barney K9 up a bit. Barney K9 jumped out of the way a bit smartish and his lead caught around the handbrake. Handbrakes on a moving vehicle on one side only tend to have a strange effect on their ability to steer a straight course. When The Owner had dragged the wheelchair back out of the rose beds and lifted Owners Dad out and put him back in the chair we gave him back to the nurses to clean him up a bit and to get out of the way of his grumbling about scratches and bruising and stuff. I was a bit disappointed that whilst he was down there among the roses he didn't take the opportunity to have a quick roll in the organic manure that was around the roses too. We left soon after.

We went then to meet with The Lady Hoomun and The Owner immediately forgot his grumbling and became quite cheerful. I am not sure if it was her that caused his cheerfulness or the fact that he took her to a pub. Could have been either. This pub looked very nice but we weren't allowed in and were left instead in the car. It was getting cold and dark when he emerged full of bon hommie and put us on the posh lead that has only one handle but two K9 clips. This means he is going to be showing off I think. He took us in and I immediately saw a row of very tall tables and stools with hoomuns eating at them. Hoomuns eating tends to mean all sorts dropped on the floor around the table so Barney K9 and I rushed forward to clear up for them. All part of the public service! I just wish that Barney K9 had gone the  same side of the row of tables as I did!!! Our two posh leads are joined in the middle as you may recall. Well the first stool with a rather indignant lady hoomun sat on it was the first to fall, who took down the table with her. This made Barney K9 run to get out of the way before he got squashed... which took the next four stools and table down too..,.. which fell into the third... and then the fourth.... which deposited the four freshly served Christmas dinners straight back in the kitchen, along with the table they were sat on. The Owner seemed particularly irritable on the journey home, I am not sure if it was the bill for all the meals and drinks that Barney K9 had knocked over which was making him grumpy, or the fact the The Lady Hoomun was laughing at him. Difficult to tell.

Yoga - discuss!

Well I have been a little puzzled of late and I was hoping that some kind hoomun would be able to, perhaps, enlighten me a little on a few hoomun technicalities. You see, in the village there has been much excitement caused by a large poster on the village notice board advertising 'Yoga'. I have to report that I have absolutely no idea what 'Yoga' is. I once had a little infection in the little boys department and The Owner spent an hour chasing me around the gardens with a pot of natural yoghurt with a particularly menacing look in his eye but I don't think that is 'yoga' and anyway he soon gave that up and went back to his Sunday papers. The air of excitement throughout the village was palpable as the day approached and then one night in the week The Owner put me and Barney K9 in the back of the car and off we went in the general direction of the village hall. Barney K9 and I were left outside under the tree which was pleasant enough for a warm late summer evening except the one hour turned into several and me and Barney K9 were still sat under the tree, and it was, by now, quite dark. We were curled up asleep as it was also quite cold by now when I heard the dulcet tones of The Owner singing coming from the general direction of the pub. How did he get past us and up there???? And what does it have to do with 'Yoga'. It was a long walk home that night as he insisted on singing (badly) and then periodically stopping and pulling a funny face and going "Oohhhhhhmmmmmmmmmm!" very loudly. I don't understand why?? Once home and Barney K9 and I were fed The Owner sat down and poured himself a large glass of something red. He said to no-one in particular that as he felt the benefits of 'Yoga' already (surely that was just the effects of four pints of 6X?) he was going to do it every night for an hour when we got home. The following evening we returned home and me and Barney K9 were fed and The Owner poured himself a large glass of wine and flopped down into his armchair. He said his first "Oohhhmmmmm". Only it was cut short when he fell asleep in the armchair. After about ten minutes the snoring started, he was properly asleep now and as his hand relaxed a little, the wine glass that was still full of "A particularly good vintage" fell out of his grasp and deposited its contents over his lap. The Owner bellowed loudly and Barney K9 made his excuses and went to bed to get out of the way, quickly. The opened bottle was the next victim, as was his new settee, delivered that week, as the bottle deposited its contents down the side of the cushions. He spent the next hour looking crestfallen as he mopped up the mess. I couldn't help but notice that his "ohmmmm" ing was a little less enthusiastic now. In fact it was no-existent to be truthful. So my question is to anyone who can offer any help..... Is this what Yoga is really about?

Sainsbugs Explained

Last night was one of those occasions where I was very glad that no-one was around that had seen me and Barney K9 with The Owner and there was no placard above our heads saying "We are with him!". Having left the studio a little later than normal we jump in the back of the car and The Owner gets in the front. This usually heralds a quick trip to Sainsbugs for food and wine before heading home again. However we park some way away from the shops and near the little river which meanders gently through town. "Come on you two we are going for a little walk along the river on our way to the shops!", said The Owner as he opened the back door of the car and I sat down waiting to be told I can get out. Barney K9, on the other hand hasn't quite mastered that bit yet when there is something more interesting outside that he rather fancies exploring. Like, rivers for instance. He shot past me like a streak of black lightning. I know lightning is not black, but if it were, that is what I imagine it would look like. The splash that followed told me two very different stories. Firstly that Barney K9 was in trouble and somehow I would be implicated simply because I have four legs too and the water was a heck of a lot deeper than Barney K9 had imagined. We were both put on leads and had to walk to heel all the way to Sainsbugs. In Barney's case a little further away from The Owner than would otherwise be the case when walking to heel, until the trail of water running from him had lessened to a manageable trickle. We soon arrived at Sainsbugs and we were left "on trust" near the door. Which I don't mind unless it is raining and I get wet. From our vantage point by the door we can see the tills and the nearest ones are those that The Owner likes because he can work those himself and have an argument with them that he generally feels he can win with one of his witty ripostes that he says whilst looking around for approval from another hoomun.

It wasn't long before he was at the tills with a small basket of goodies including wine and Bonios. Bleep went the machine as he scanned the first item and put it in the bagging area. Bleep it went a second time as he bagged another item. Then it started. "An unexpected item in the bagging area!" said the machine. "I haven't put anything in there!" protested The Owner. But the machine was having none of it and the supervisor had to separate The Owner from the machine before they came to blows and off it went again. Bleep, said the machine as The Owner bagged his item. Bleep went the machine as The Owner bagged another item. "Unexpected item in the bagging area!" said the machine and so the supervisor was called again who impatiently made the machine behave itself again. She turned her back to walk away and without any input from The Owner in any way at all "Unexpected item in the bagging area!" it protested as The Owner loudly protested his innocence in the whole matter. A crowd was beginning to gather as Supervisor Hoomun made The Owner remove all of his stuff from his bags as she checked them off against his till. "I'll stay here with you and watch I think" she said, a little frostily to him. "Unexpected item in the bagging area!", the machine retorted. There! See? I didn't touch the (pause) thing!" I thought there were words that I pretend not to understand coming out then and I think they very nearly did! Supervisor Hoomun frowned at the machine very loudly so it started to behave itself a bit better. The Owner picked up his bottle of shampoo to scan that and immediately complained very loudly, "It's bloody leaking!" he complained to the gathering crowd who all nodded in agreement and one even applauded. "Don't worry, we'll get you another." said Supervisor Hoomun very patiently to The Owner as she sent Pimply Youth Hoomun to retrieve a non leaking shampoo bottle. The crowd was now three deep all around the till! Next came the bag of sugar which seemed to have acquired a hole in it bigger than Barney K9's paw print in a muddy puddle and was intent on depositing its contents all across the scanner. Supervisor Hoomun told The Owner to go and get another bag whilst her "team" cleaned up the mess. It was said in that same manner as Owners Daughter does when she wants him out of the way whilst she sorts out one of his little problems. By the time The Owner returned Supervisor Hoomuns team had dismantled the scanner and cleaned most of the sugar from all its little nooks and crannies and I got the feeling she was a little less than welcoming of The Owners "help" in the rebuilding of the scanner department. You may recall we had parked the car by the river which seemed to involve a walk back to the car along by the river. Even Barney K9 seemed to sense that this was not a good time to be launching himself back into the river again. About half way back the orange Sainsbug bag split and deposited the wine from a now broken bottle, the sherry from a bottle in a similar state or disarray, a bag of sugar (now split) and a bottle of shampoo also split all across the footpath with The Owner sat beside it all with his head in his hands looking less than at one with the world from what I could see of it. We went straight home from there and I thought it best to give him a wide berth for the rest of the evening, as I kinda felt it more than my life was worth to trouble him further.

Someone Was Sitting on MY Comfy Cushion

Last night as we were walking back home from the studio a blue car came noisily up the road behind us and started flashing its lights and making a very unseemly amount of noise. Then the door was flung open and before the occupant could leap forth, Barney K9 was straight in and there was a lot of tail wagging and various switched being turned on and off. Then the shrieking started, which also explained much of The Owners behaviour these last couple of hours. Owners Daughter had arrived!! He, Barney K9, was becoming more excited by the second and as Owners Daughter finally emerged from her car there was a great deal of frowning to be done. The Owner had been telling everyone who was daft enough to answer their phone that he was anticipating chem trails on the horizon and he was going to clear a landing strip for the broom stick then laughing very loudly. So it must have been one of his special jokes that no one else ever gets, but I now see it was at Owners Daughters expense. So I had been feeling generally quite sympathetic towards her.... until she went in doors! She grabbed one of The Owners camping foam mattresses and flung it on MY comfy cushion!!! At first I thought it was very nice of her but I suspected The Owner would have a negative response if I curled up on it, until I realised it was not for me!! Owners Daughter flopped herself down on top of the foam mattress on top of MY comfy cushion in a very over the top dramatic way. Although you can tell the family connection as she didn't spill her drink either. Well my big question was "Where am I going to doze this evening?". Then a brainwave hit me...... I can still sit on MY comfy cushion for the evening, just that it would have to be on Owners Daughter, who was on top of The Owners foam mattress, which was on top of MY comfy cushion. So that was alright then. It was at this point that she became very unlike The Owner when she threw her drink all over the place and I would just like to make it clear at this point that I am in no way responsible!! I may have jolted her arm a tinciest bit but I did not touch her glass! Just saying!Barney K9, meanwhile was still bouncing around her car pleased to see her oblivious of the fact that she was no longer in it and that everyone else had gone indoors some time since.

Autumn Is On Its Way I Think

There is an autumnal nip in the air outside on patrol this morning despite yesterday's summer warmth. One evening last week, as The Owner sat in the garden enjoying an early evening glass of wine whilst Barney K9 and I checked out the perimeter for the twentieth time that day (you can't be too careful), there was that smell of damp decaying leaves in the air for the first time this autumn to herald the onset of winter. So, picking up, cock pheasants cackling across a frosty field, watching The Owner splitting wood for the week on a Sunday morning, frosty hard ground and tingling toes..... winter, bring it on. 

My Ice Bucket Challenge

I am not impressed today! Yesterday, someone who had hitherto been my friend, nominated ME for the ice bucket challenge. I will now be joining Barney K9, when next I visit, to leave a little present on the lawn I think. I had the feeling that it was really The Owner she had meant, but she definitely said Jack Labrador. That was all the ammunition he needed to form a little plot in his mind. So this morning, before breakfast, unaware of what exactly an 'ice bucket challenge' involved, I had had my wee on the roses (yuk and phew) and was sat in the middle of the lawn contemplating nothing in particular when I hear The Owner puffing and wheezing his way along the path behind me. When suddenly, there was a deluge of ice cold water thrown over me. When I turned round (quickly), he was grinning from ear to ear and fumbling to try and get his camera taking a picture of me. "There you are Jack!" he said triumphantly. "At least you have done it now." Forgive me if I am missing the point here, but what exactly had I done, apart from get very wet and cold? I went back inside contemplating exactly how much worse the day could have got, dribbling water from my coat as I went, when my question was answered for me as he whisked me off my feet and dropped me into a warm bath!!!! "There you are Jack!" he said, "That'll make you feel much better!". Well I am sorry if I sound ungrateful, but I felt perfectly fine until some oaf dropped a bucket of icy water over me, and to cap it off he then dries me off with his comedy duck beach towel and records the event for posterity. Feeling inspired by his effort he is now outside chasing Barney K9 round the cricket pitch armed with another bucket of water, however Barney K9 saw the result of his earlier efforts and is having none of it. His long lead has become entangled with the electric fence in the course of his efforts to escape and whilst Barney K9 is not feeling it because it is either earthing out before it gets as far as him or he is just too dense to notice. When The Owner does catch up with him he may well grab the lead and then.... Oh there was the shout! Yes The Owner has just stopped smiling and will be in momentarily looking a little less perky.

A Wet Tee and Missing Golf Balls

Following on from yesterdays post concerning The Owner backing himself neatly into a corner so that he has to go and play a round of golf an a 'non-tropical' tropical monsoon.

We cut a lonely furrow as The Owner's golfing partner, resplendent in the very latest waterproof technology outfit, and The Owner, also resplendent but only in his very wet brightly coloured jumper and Rupert Bear trousers, made their way across the golf course to start their round of golf. My mate Barney K9 and I ambled reluctantly along behind as the loud guffaws emanating from the warm dry clubhouse slowly became drowned out by the sound of heavy rain falling on sodden grass and on my equally sodden back and head. We arrived at the first tee and The Owner tipped the water out of his big heavy bag full of golf bats and selected one to start his game with. Half way down the fairway (are you impressed with my detailed knowledge of the golfing terminology?) there was a big old thorn tree which my mate Barney K9 and me felt would offer a little protection from the monsoon currently driving across the golf course. The Owner wildly flailed at the ball, which landed somewhere above my mate Barney K9 and me in the thorn tree and slowly worked its way down through the branches until it went plop in the puddle. So Barney K9 picked it up and we carried on our waiting activities sat underneath the tree. Eventually The Owner and his Golfing Buddy Hoomun arrived and spent quite a long while shuffling around in the grass as if they were looking for something. Barney K9 and I wandered on and found shelter at the next green sitting in a deep sandy bunker. Shortly after, a golf ball landed in the sand at my feet, so I picked it up this time. Eventually, The Owner arrived and appeared to be looking for something in the grass near the green. I'm not sure what but he never found it. He went and tipped the water out of his bag he keeps his golf bats in, which had filled for the second or third time so far and extracted another new gold ball and carried on his game with an increasing sense of despair about his general demeanour. I managed to pick up a second ball in my mouth and Barney K9 managed to get three in. The Owner tipped the water out of his bag again and produced another new ball announcing that this was his "last ball!". Barney K9 and I wandered, dripping with water, to the next green and took up our vigil again. The Owner swung wildly at the ball, which was partly submerged in water on the tee and managed to connect to it in a very fine manner as the ball tracked a particularly good pathway through the rain and landed with a resounding plop in the little hole in the middle of the green. I did wonder whether I should go and get it out for him  but it was full of water and I was quite wet enough already thank you. Barney K9 also declined to help as he already had three in his mouth so we sat and watched as The Owner and Golf Buddy Hoomun, who didn't seem particularly humorous by now, searched through the long grass for the ball for quite a while for the ball before The Owner announced that he really had had enough golfing and he was out of balls too so they splished and splashed their way back to the club house. The Owner's humour grew darker when we got back as they made him sit on a plastic stool on a sheet of plastic as he was making a mess on the carpet dripping water from just about everything about him. Some very nice Lady Hoomun came and towelled Barney K9 and me down a little and put another towel near the fire which she lit for us to dry beside. I liked her! The Owner however was a quite pathetic figure sat, surrounded by plastic and sand bags, in the corner, sipping occasionally at a hot chocolate. He kept casting a sideways glance at Barney K9 and I. I am not sure if it was the fact that someone had towelled up off, or we had a fire to steam gently beside, or that the lady kept bringing us biscuits and he didn't get any of that. Or was it the little heap of golf balls on the towels beside us that irked him? When we got home his bag of golf bats was thrown to the very back of the shed and his jumper and trousers were thrown in to the washing machine and the door slammed shut in a particularly heavy handed way which left one with the sense that they weren't going to be dragged out again any time soon.

Golf in a Monsoon.

The Owner has had a busy weekend this weekend, but it was his own fault to be honest - and my mate Barney K9. He has been telling all his golfing chums how they are a bunch of sissies for not carrying on with their game when it starts to rain. His favourite line seems to be "Well your skin is waterproof!" and much to their annoyance he tells his chums this line at every opportunity like it was the first time in the history of hoomun kind that it had ever been thought of. Then he laughs very loudly so it is clearly one of his special jokes that no-one ever gets. However, his only incursion into the world of golf was not a resounding success really and he was asked to leave the golf course by a less that agreeable green keeper. I'm not actually sure why he was called a green keeper as he wasn't particularly green and my mate Keeper Hoomun wears scratchy tweed suits that smell particularly good if you ask me. Not that you did, but I thought it rounded the sentence off nicely. After much humourous banter on the part of The Owner that no one else found funny, and a few too many beers he rather neatly backed himself into a corner over the whole golf thing and he had to drag his very loud trousers and jumpers out of the wardrobe narrowly averting any disastrous discoveries of my misdemeanour's that may have been hiding at the back. 

So his bag of golf bats safely in the car, The Owner, my mate Barney K9 and myself clambered into the car and headed to the golf course. I couldn't help but notice that the clouds coming over the hill were looking just the tiniest bit black and angry looking, but The Owner clearly hadn't noticed this fact and started as soon as he walked through the clubhouse door telling lots of hoomuns that he hoped they weren't going to let a little dribble of water prevent them from going out and playing their game. As the rains started to fall, it was The Owners turn to pick up his golf bats and head out onto the course. He was immediately trying to find some way of not going out there and told everyone that his old war wound (the one from the war he never fought in) was playing up and he didn't think he would be able to play today but the calls got louder from the hoomuns at the bar "But surely your skin is waterproof?". As did the claps of thunder from the storm clouds gathering overhead until he had to open the door and venture out onto the golf course. As the door opened, the light but threatening rain turned immediately into a tropical monsoon. Only without the tropical bit! Isn't it funny how his comeuppances are things which I am somehow compelled to join him with? No, I didn't think they were very funny either! My mate Barney K9 and I had found a square of carpet in the club house which was about our size, right underneath the table with the tea and biscuits on and fully intended to snooze the hour or two away whilst he got wet. He became very insistent that we had to join him, saying "If I have to get wet then so are you!" In a manner which gave me the impression there was little point arguing and so the three of us and another hoomun who appeared to have drawn the short straw and was chosen to accompany him and make sure he kept going to the end of the course.with no shortcuts. I will leave my laptop behind in the clubhouse and get it later when we return, wet I expect.

The Owner's Bargains Shopping

The Owner has had a bit of a grumpy Sunday... I think it is a phase he is going through! He has had a row with the Sunday papers and I was a bit worried as Barney K9 pinched the middle section of his paper and took it off up the garden but The Owner has neither got to the middle of his paper yet or found the remains of the  missing pages up in the top of the garden.

 At about lunchtime and after he had opened himself a beer left over from yesterdays adventures, we went on a short patrol and finished up at the studio. Having walked through the door I was a little miffed to see The Owner through the windows open and grab his Sainsbugs bags. The frame of mind he was in this morning the Sainsbugs bags could easily have meant that he was going to Tesco's or Morrissons but as he left me and Barney K9 in the studio with the words "I'm off to Sainsbugs, you two will be better left here." in an unusual show of concern for our well being. 

He returned in a very unusually jovial frame of mind which means only one thing... he has found the bargain shelves well stocked. He struggled through the studio door laden with all kinds of goodies, including a fresh chicken and 'an exquisite Sancerre'. He also had another bag with wine bottles in I noticed and I can be fairly sure they will have been half price too. Having spent the remainder of the afternoon gainfully employed shouting at the computer we started our stroll home. For me, today has been remarkably blame free...so far. Barney K9 has to walk on a lead still but The Owner likes to give him a long lead. I don't need a lead (apart from the pub, pub rules), it's my breeding showing through I think you'll find! So we start the journey home with The Owner on one side of the road and Barney K9 on the other and the lead stretched between the two, and The Owner, laden with Sainsbugs bags loaded with the spoils from his foray to the shops. I was rather busy sniffing at stuff so was left a little behind and scampered up the road to catch them up a bit. This was the bit where my day turned a little awry to be honest. The Owner hadn't heard me arrive, it would seem, and as I leapt nimbly over Barney K9's long lead he flicked the lead a little. When I say 'a little' I really mean enough for me to jump straight into the lead which rather lead to the bag with all his wine bottles getting wrenched from his hands. Four bottles of wine to be precise, and all in pieces, and the lead still tangled around my legs meant there was no denying it, I had broken The Owners special offer wine bottles. Both Barney K9 and I had to sit and stay whilst The Owner cleared up the glass whilst casting some very disagreeable looks in my direction. I was anticipating short rations in the Bonio department this evening. So we eventually continued our journey homeward and that was when The Owner delivered the coup de grâce... on himself! Barney K9 decided it was a suitable opportunity to... well.....perform. The Owner noticed that he was performing a little too close to the lead so gave it a quick flick which neatly and deftly flicked Barney K9's recent deposit, caught in mid air, into The Owners bag with his bargain chicken in. Judging by the ferocity with which his bag of broken glass and all of his other shopping bags were thrown into the bins as we passed them I am guessing his chicken dish washed down with 'a fine Sancerre' may resemble more beans on toast washed down with a bottle of beer. An evening to keep a low profile I think. Me and Barney K9 will be behind the settee if anyone wants us.

The Fly and The Owners Toe

My newest buddy, Barney K9, has a problem with flies. The Owner has a problem with his big toe and as improbably as it sounds, the two are connected. It is the season of the big noisy flies here in the cottage. The ones that sound like a squadron of Hercules C130's flying round the house and make one heck of a mess when The Owner chases one with a rolled up newspaper and makes contact. The paper is unreadable afterwards, the room requires redecorating and The Owner has a kind of primeval radiance about him having hunted and caught his foe. Last night, after patrol, The Owner poured himself a glass of 'something particularly fine' and took his Sunday paper up to the upstairs living room and flopped down into his beanbag. I settled down in my rightful position, at his side, and Barney K9 settled at his feet. Soon, Barney K9 was snoring gently, The Owner was busy getting agitated about something in the paper and I was watching one of these C130 style flies noisily circling the room. It was a picture of blissful normality at the cottage. This fly made a couple of practice dive bombs at The Owner which elicited a mild grumble and irritated flick of his foot in its general direction whilst Barney K9 snoozed on. On its next bombing run it flew a little lower and The Owner flacked his foot in further irritation when all of a sudden Barney K9, still half asleep, launched forth in a magnificent display of K9 defensive instinct. However his instinct was slightly less in tune with his targeting as slobber and gnashers made contact with the first thing it could get to. The Owner leapt up and papers went everywhere, along with his glass and its contents, whilst clutching his toe in an exaggerated display of agony worthy of any premier league footballer. Barney K9 finished his waking up and seemed somewhat surprised to find The Owners foot in his mouth. 

Barney K9 took to his bed afterwards, I am unsure if that was just to keep out of The Owners way or whether he had picked up some lergy from The Owners foot. The Owner has been on the phone to the hospital demanding injections and has been into his emergency supply of bandages. He is now sporting a bandaged foot which will almost certainly mean a trip to the pub looking for sympathy from anyone daft enough to ask him what happened. He has now hacked a walking stick from the hedge and is looking for his keys. I hope he remembers which foot to hobble on for best effects when he gets to the pub.

Wincie Arachnoids Big Mistake

You understand how it is sometimes, if you listen to enough babble, you eventually start to understand the nonsense that is being babbled. It is that way with The Owner and I. So it is also with spiders, we live in an old cottage, so old in fact that I even wonder whether The Owner remembers it being built! It is not excessive but we do have more than a few little tiny spiders creeping around the place and The Owner spends his evenings chasing them with the ruddy Dyson with a kind of menacing smile about his face. Either that or it could be wind I guess. Anyway, there is this one spider, I call him Wincie, and he lives in the cupboard under the stairs and all night long he babbles on as he makes elaborate webs by shooting things out of his bottom. I have tried that too but I didn't manage to make a web. In fact it all got rather messy to be honest! Over recent weeks Wincie Arachnoid has been very busy in the cupboard and has babbled a lot, so I have gained some understanding of the language of spider. Last night he was particularly busy building webs outside of the cupboard and I immediately sensed trouble. Building a web across any door way was not good, but to build one across a doorway through which The Owner was likely to emerge at some point was not a good plan in my view. So I ignored Wincie Arachnoid's ramblings and settled down to sleep. in the wee small hours I could here disturbings upstairs which really did make them the wee small hours and down the stairs grumbled The Owner. This meant I was about to be disturbed having moved in the night and was laying across the bathroom door. Having not switched any lights on as normal he made his way across the living room towards the kitchen door..... and walked right into a spiders web! There was a great deal of roaring and grumbling as The Owner got more and more tangled up in the web left by Wincie Arachnoid. Over the top of this noise I could also hear Wincie Arachnoid squealing with delight "Wheee! I've caught a hoomun!!! I've caught a hoomun!!! As he descended from his hiding place on another length of stuff coming out of his bottom I could hear him squealing "Its dinner tonight!".

The Owner spent much of breakfast time cleaning Wincie Archnoid off the wall with his Mr Muscle and a cloth and little now remains of the drama of last night.

The Owner Has Been in The River

I have kept very quiet this week so far. It is for the best.

At the weekend The Owner and I went to see Owner's Dad and Diesel Dog Daughter. We set off early but we went a different way to normal. He seemed to know where we were going so I settled down for a kip in the back of the car. After a little while I opened one eye and noticed we were at a place called Warmonster, I think. At least that is what The Owner has been calling it ever since and then laughing very loudly, so it could very easily be one of his jokes I suspect. 

Well, when we got to Warmonster we pulled up outside this house and The Owner jumped out with great bonhomie and general good humour towards Young Lady Hoomun. I was evicted from my comfy corner in the back and The Owner started throwing great big concrete slabs in the back of the car. Well, he got five in and then stopped for a breather and I couldn't help but notice that his previous bonhomie was waning a little. Another five slabs and it had waned altogether and there were little beads of perspiration over his brow, so he closed the back door of the car and told his new found hoomun friend that he would return for the rest later. 

We hadn't been gone very far before there was a huge bang at the back of the car, dried mud seemed to fall off the car and everything lurched to a precarious standstill. The Owner was looking a bit peekie at this point as he fumbled around trying to make a call on a recalcitrant mobile phone. The phone was having none of it and we finished up in a phone box. Now we have a phone box in the village, but ours is full of books and I am forbidden from going in there, so this was all a bit new for me. I am forming the opinion that phone box doors are there only to try and cut you in half when you are least expecting it. 

The Owner's day appeared to be getting worse but fortunately none of it was my fault and indeed I was enjoying the role of pacifier and confidante as he ruffled my ears whilst he tried to work out what to do next. He said to me "We need to get these slabs off, Jack." Helloooo! Where is the 'we' suddenly arriving from in this scenario?? Then, inspiration struck, which unsurprisingly involved a pub! No more than 20 empty Bonio boxes laid end to end along the road and there just happened to be a pub, so he drove the car to the pub and went inside. He told the landlady hoomun, with a look so pitiful on his face that even I nearly felt sorry for him, that he really needed help and could he leave these slabs in her car park. So whilst I sat on the The Owners seat and watched, he unloaded all the slabs and the car looked a great deal better for it. 

It was a warm and sunny day and through the pub garden ran a clear bright stream with tables and chairs dotted around the grass on either side of it and I was not at all disappointed when The Owner noticed and said "Come on Jack, I think we deserve a pint!" By 'we' he meant 'he', or at least 'he' would be getting the pint and I would be allowed to sit and watch, but it was a nice day and I was enjoying the time not being in trouble. We sat there watching the ducks on the little river, the sun was warm on my face and The Owner found someone new to talk to who was blonde and female (need I say more), so he was feeling a little better about earlier troubles. After half an hour of pleasantness all round The Owner got up off the grass beside the river where we had been sitting, and bid the lady hoomun a good day saying "We need to get the car back home now." Had I mentioned that I was on a lead? Well I was, I was on my best pub lead, which is a bit longer than my normal lead and the excitement of being back on our way again was perhaps a bit too much. I jumped up quick and bounced around a lot, I went once around The Owner and his new lady hoomun friend and made for the car at great pace. This was the part where the day took a downward turn to be honest. I felt a bit of a tug on the end of the lead and when I turned around I could see that The Owner and his new Lady Hoomun Friend were a lot closer together than they appeared to want to be.....with my lead wrapped around their feet.... which seemed to have caused them both to topple into the stream. Lady Hoomun seemed a little displeased, to the point where I must conclude she is not really normal, as she doesn't seem to enjoy jumping in rivers. The Owner emerged from the depths of the river with long strips of river weed draped around his shoulders like a super hero's cape and a face like thunder. I got the distinct feeling that all the K9/Hoomun bonding that had gone on earlier was evaporating quickly and his mornings troubles were all somehow my fault. So, as I said earlier, it was best I kept a low profile before the Crimean crisis somehow became my fault too.

My Good Mood this Morning - and the Bacon

You know how some mornings you wake up feeling excited? You have no idea why, you just feel good about something? To be fair, it is not a feeling I have witnessed too often in The Owner and one that this morning he seems unlikely to share with me either. But this morning I awoke feeling gooooood! 

As the first light was filling the back passage where I sleep and Blackbird was on the shed roof outside giving it large, I heard the familiar creek of the floorboards above me as that behemoth known to many as 'The Owner' began to stir from his nights slumber. I hear him move across the upstairs living room and then start his descent of the stairs 1 - 2 - 3 - 456 Bugger!! This was going to be a bad day again, he has found the uneven step and is now in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. He eventually recovered enough to get himself to the kitchen and is walking with a limp, which I expect him to be milking for all it's worth with everyone he sees today. The routine, as normal, is for The Owner to let me out to do what K9's with breeding do best in the morning; go for a wee. Whilst he goes and puts the kettle on and makes unspeakable trouser trump noises I rush outside with great excitement looking for the first thing high enough to wee on. The first thing that I saw was a heap of bags, delivered for some DIY project for the weekend. I have now been educated! Bags of cement do not fare so well when wee'd upon it seems and The Owner was making the point very loudly. Education for the morning completed, and my breakfast eaten, I rush in to the rest of the cottage to see what The Owner is up to. The Owner's breakfast (very large bacon sandwich with extra rashers) was perched on the arm of his armchair and he was back out in the kitchen pouring his mug of English Breakfast tea. I also heard him take a Bonio out of my big Bonio box which was a cause of even more good feeling this morning. When K9's are feeling good and they hear Bonio buckets being opened they tend to jump around a lot, and I was doing well at it I thought. Unfortunately my tail made contact with his plate... which fell to the floor. Bacon went one way and bread the other. Well I thought I would help and clear it all up quickly..... The Owner doesn't appear to have any more bacon and seems to be having a strop about the whole matter. I think I'll be in the calf sheds this morning, laying in the sun, whilst I sleep off my bacon. I do seem to have a thirst now too, but I may not go back for water from my dish for an hour or two, just to be safe.

Magic in a Boot Room

Well, last night was a very strange affair and involved several new experiences for me which unsettled me rather a lot. The Owner jumped up in the middle of the afternoon, a practice normally only hastened by someone offering to buy him beer, grabbed his keys and said "Come on Jack we are going to see Granddad!" By 'Granddad' he means Owners Dad, but I am now used to that little ruse. So we jumped in the car and went a very long way, but nowhere near Swindon I was pleased to note. Although what was to follow was the kind of thing I have come to expect in Swindon. We arrived at a big place near where Owners Dad lives, I did recognise it, and The Owner put me on my posh lead and waved a cautionary finger at me and gave the usual list of things I am not allowed to do. No burping, farting, peeing up door posts, pooing on the carpets, robbing old ladies of their biscuits.... frankly the list seemed endless and I had got other things on my mind once he had mentioned robbing old ladies of their biscuits. Just inside the door sat an old lady who looked at me and said "So sorry dear, I have just eaten my last biscuit." Well I could see straight away that she was not going to be my friend. Then The Owner took one of MY Bonios out of his pocket and gave it to her! Well why would she have been wanting one of MY Bonios??? So, with a swift flick of the tail and a slob of the tongue we managed to return that to its rightful owner. With a stern look in my direction The Owner took me off towards these very shiny doors. I sat there for a while admiring myself in the reflection when suddenly the doors opened with no help from anyone and it was barely bigger than a boot room inside!! I walked in with The Owner in a very cautious manner because I was sure I had seen that floor move. I saw floors that move on a bus one day and that didn't fill me with a great deal of confidence either. The doors shut behind us and we were trapped inside when suddenly my tummy went upside down and I felt particularly strange. I think that was when the magic happened. When we went in that boot room there was a red carpet outside and an old lady sat at a seat with dribble on her hand. Moments later the doors opened again and the carpet was blue and the old lady had mysteriously disappeared!!! I never did see her again and I did check behind the cupboard she was sat beside. I will tell you more later, I think I heard Tesco Hoomun Yoof pull up in his van. I know there is going to be Bonies in one of those boxes and I am anxious that The Owner doesn't get any bright ideas that he is going to give them to some old lady in a gesture of largesse again today.

The Glass of Wine and the Wobbly Leg

I would just like to make it known here that my K9 belly button, through which I derived much of my very obvious breeding, is now only for my pleasure and general storage of fluff! Should it happen that The Owner decides to tickle the said K9 belly button, then he should expect me to react in a manner that involves the old K9 leg twitch thing going on in a particularly effusive manner. Should it happen that the said effusive K9 leg twitching might possibly make contact with The Owners full wine glass left casually on the carpet beside where he was sat at the time, and within range of my twitching leg, it is hardly my fault! Just saying.....

The Owner Fell in the Drains

The Owner has not had the best of days, so I am keeping a particularly low profile. It started well enough, lovely sunny morning, sat at the Divine Cafe in the sunshine, drinking his coffee whilst I wandered around under the table looking for the odd morsel or two, and then we went shopping. Well he did, I had to stay in the car, but he bought me some #Bonios so I forgave him. Then as he struggled back up the garden path with his shopping bags, he stopped just before the back door, and with a sage look about him he announced that the drains were backing up. I have never seen a drain back up before, when the milk tanker backs up on its way to the dairy it beeps a lot and a voice says "Caution, this vehicle is reversing!" but as far as I can tell the drains weren't doing that. Just as well because there was about six inches of soapy water in the shallow gulley across the back of the cottage. This seemed to concern The Owner somewhat and he went and started lifting drain covers all over the garden, each one was deeper in soapy water and a whole load of stuff, which, quite frankly, even I wouldn't roll around in! The last one down near the road where the drain turns to head out under the road, was empty and nowhere near as smelly as the rest and this then occupied his interest for a while with lots of black rods that he screwed together to make a big long snake. He pushed the snake down into drain and started shoving it back towards the full manholes. Eventually it appeared to hit something solid and The Owner turned to me and said "That appears to be it!". I am not sure what 'It' was but it clearly shouldn't be there and The Owner started jumping up and down on the end of the snake. All of a sudden 'It' gave way and The Owner, who was giving it a particularly hard shove at the time, fell to the floor. Well, more like, in the drain actually! As he was trying to get his bearings and work out how to get his shoulders from being wedged in the open manhole a deep gurgling was emanating from deep within the drain in a particularly menacing manner.The water from the five manholes, and all the brown stuff which I wouldn't want to roll in, hit the wall inside the manhole with such speed that most of it couldn't immediately turn the corner and so just shot upwards. Yes, that was where The Owner was wedged! But it proved at least that he was making far too much of being wedged in, as he quickly found a way of getting himself out of the drains. But not before he managed to get covered in all the soapy water and brown stuff that even I would not roll in. He has been ringing the NHS emergency lines trying to bully someone into giving him an injection for something - anything - and is now in the bath for the second time, and I have to report that he smells no sweeter. I believe a low profile would be wise this evening as the first thing to put a foot out of line will cop all his ire from the afternoons activities and I am not particularly anxious for it to be me.

The Downside to a Wagging Tail

There are some responses which are kind of automatic for a K9, stuff you can't stop doing even if you wanted to, like wagging your tail when you feel pleased about something or crawling on your belly and not looking at The Owner when you have eaten something out in the garden that you know The Owner won't approve of but he just hasn't found out yet what it was. That kind of response!

Well you may recall my efforts at waking The Owner the other morning by sneaking upstairs when he got up for a wee and spending the rest of the night curled up on the sheepskin rug I had dragged under the bed. Well I had re-thought the whole matter and decided another attempt at finding that moment when he wakes up and before he gets his grumpy head on. So he was busy most of the evening sorting out someone's computer that seemed to be having a bit of a paddy over who knows what, but when he was finished he poured himself a large glass of something red and sat down. As normal, he sat down, took one sip and fell asleep. This was my moment, I thought! Tee hee! I silently crept up the stairs and after a quick sniff at one or two strange looking garments on his bedroom floor I dragged the sheep skin under the bed again and went to sleep. At close to midnight, with his head hanging over the back of the sofa in a manner likely to give him a stiff neck and with his mouth wide open, his snores finally woke himself up with the kind of snort that normally only a pig would make....hmmm, no, I can see the connection! So I hear him get up, turn the lights out and grumble something about seeing me in the morning and then clamber up the stairs. Tee hee, he hasn't noticed I was not in my bed! The Owner clambered in to his bed and turned the light off and pulled the covers up over his ears. This was where it unravelled slightly for me. I felt generally quite pleased with myself at getting up here and under the bed unnoticed, And what do K9's do when they feel pleased? They wag there tails, that's what! My mind is saying "Don't wag, don't wag!" But the tail clearly has other intentions and starts wagging furiously back and forth and hitting the leg of the bed on every wag. The Owner sat up quickly in his bed and the plan was undone! "You can come out from under there", the voice boomed. I tried to ignore it, but the tail wagged more. "Jack, go downstairs!" The plan was undone, I will have to try another tack tomorrow.

The Morning Roar

This morning started with a roar! The Owner seemed displeased somehow. 

I have recently seen videos of lots of cute cats patting their owners face in an effort to wake them up and then their owner smiles as they open their eyes and see their loyal pet and there are many comments and voice overs that seem to suggest that this kind of awakening is very well received by hoomuns the world over. In The Owners case it must go wrong somewhere between him waking up and him coming down the stairs because by the time he gets to the kitchen he is in a right foul bait. So I thought I would get to him before he descends the stairs and see if I could get the best of his day. At about two this morning I heard him start to fidget upstairs which is followed ten minutes later by him coming downstairs for the inevitable wee. He pays scant attention to me at that time of the day unless I happen to be laying across the doorway of the bathroom door so my disappearance upstairs whilst he was in the bathroom went unnoticed. I went through the upstairs living room and past the beanbag knowing that by the time he gets to the bean bag, and finds me asleep in it, he is already grumpy. I crawled under his bed and dragged a sheepskin rug with me to lie on. The Owner came grumbling back upstairs without any lights on so didn't notice me, although I thought I may have been rumbled when he stopped briefly where the sheepskin rug was and mumbled, "Where the hell has that gone?", but continued to clamber back in to his bed. 

This morning, excited at the prospect of seeing The Owner happy, I was awake at first light. Well it was daylight.... just! So I crept out from under the bed and took a wander across to the wardrobes to get a better look at the slumbering shape of The Owner. Yes! I had timed it right, he was still asleep! So I ran across the bedroom and jumped. So, ok, I did miss my footing a little and tripped over the end of the bed in mid flight and landed in a slightly confused heap on top of The Owner, but I hardly think it warranted his reaction! I thought it best to go downstairs quickly and get back on my duvet quick. I had hopes that he may have put it all down to just a bad dream but judging by the way he threw my breakfast in my dish and the scowl upon his face as he did so, I think his memory is working ok. I will try that again another time, only without the trip!

The Bottle Carrier Unravels

Yesterday The Owner was hard at work all day, doing his Photoshop best for one of his hoomun mates at the pub (I like pubs, have I mentioned that recently?). Payment was to be two bottles of his finest wine. Now unlike The Owner, Pub Hoomun Mate does actually buy fine wines so The Owner worked like a little dervish to get the work done. Mid afternoon Pub Hoomun Mate arrived outside the studio door but wouldn't get out of his car as it was raining hard. The Owner, however, was not about to let a tropical monsoon get in the way of two bottles of fine wine so went rushing out and came back in clutching a rather nondescript box which to my reckoning might have been a bit heavy for just the two bottles. Oh how right was I? This is going to end in tears, mark my words. Inside it were not two, but six bottles of assorted fine wines. The Owner was salivating at the thought of such wines in his wine rack and I suspect that after drinking the first one, his intention was to keep refilling it with cheap plonk to decant and serve to his guests for sometime to come. I took the trouble of looking up the origins of wine and let me just share my findings with you... "The English word 'wine' comes from the Proto-Germanic winam, an early borrowing from the Latin vinum, 'wine' or '(grape) vine', itself derived from the Proto-Indo-European stem win-o." I think that last bit says it all somehow. Himself, having established that the quality of these wines, but particularly the price, was worthy of more public display than carrying them home in a rather nondescript cardboard box, decided that folks may see more of what he was carrying on his journey home, if he put them all in a Sainsbugs cardboard wine carrier for the journey. Well the journey home was a very wet affair with the tropical monsoon really getting into the swing of things, and, well, let me put it this way. What is the end result of carrying six heavy wine bottles loaded into a wine carrier made with cheap recycled cardboard when it is the monsoon season? Well, let me just say that his mood was a little sombre yesterday evening... and sober!

Omelettes at Easter

It is Easter weekend! So speaketh The Owner earlier today as he spilled his tea down his clean shirt front whilst watching the BBC Breakfast News. Then James Martin came on to tell everyone why they should really be doing nothing further that morning than waiting for inspiration for tonight's tea from one of the offerings from the chefs on his program.

It was at about that point that The Owner sprang up from his chair (more tea down his front) and announced that as it was the Easter weekend, an omelette was what was called for, for his breakfast. I have pondered on this and apart from it requiring eggs I cannot see the connection between the omelette and it being Easter weekend.

Now I have sat and watched the two chefs many times on Saturday Breakfast doing the Omelette Challenge. Sometimes they produce something that is so barely cooked that even I would think twice, then sprinkle it with chopped chives or parsley and consider themselves to have done quite well. Other times they produce something that looks quite edible, so I was hopeful that The Owner's culinary expertise would shine through and I may even get a small sample myself. So there he was, out in the kitchen, (which I have found often most prudent to avoid at times like this) and there was much crashing and banging and whirring of food processors. None of which have I ever heard from James Martin's guest chefs, incidentally, which probably heralds the kitchen looking like a war zone when he has finished. But if the means justifies the end and I get a bit myself, whatever! Then the phone rings and he sits down and talks at great length to someone with a great deal of seriousness about someone or something. Phone call ended, he sat back with a pensive look upon his face as he considered either the subject of his call or tried desperately to remember what he was doing prior to the call. It was the thin fingers of smoke which crept in layers around the corner of the kitchen door which must have in some way reminded him, as he suddenly jumped up and ran out into the kitchen. I followed at a safe distance and time interval, so that none of the angst would find a connection to me and went to see what was occurring. The omelette, which always looks golden and moist on the telly, was giving the appearance of burnt toast as it sat on the plate with smoke drifting upwards from the bit at the centre which appeared to be glowing like an ember in the fire. After a moments thought, inspiration struck and he slathered ketchup all over the omelette and went and sat down. I guess he wasn't hungry after all as he only took one mouthful and pushed the plate away. I soon found the 'omelette' in my dish but felt a little less than hungry myself after just one small nibble. I will report later if I find out why Easter weekends mean omelettes for breakfast.

The Orange Apron

Oh my Lord, it is Easter isn't it? I don't need a calender or a diary to know this either! K9's don't do them anyway, but I still wouldn't need one to know. How have I realised? The Owner has been to B&Q, that's how! He was sat here fidgeting over the weekend, clearly bored, whilst watching the telly. Nothing untoward so far. Then his fidgeting slowed and then stopped when the adverts came on. His fidgeting restarted, but this time it was with excitement as a plan had formed in his mind. Do you see how dangerous this was all becoming? So yesterday he was up and out early and B&Q was high in his mind. I tried to get out of the car to go for a wander across the car park in search of the Burger Hoomun and some sustenance, but my way was blocked and I was shut in the car. He came back across the car park a short while later, hidden amongst a convoy of trolleys loaded with various DIY devices and materials, and many many plants. He was also wearing one of their orange aprons which he had removed from some ageing gentle hoomun under pretext unknown and somehow managed to walk out with it. I suspect Ageing Gentle Hoomun will be still looking for where he left his apron for some time to come, a bit like The Owner and his keys. Hopefully he won't be inspired to take the spoils of his visit to the pub to show everyone as there is a really nice Lady Collie K9 that has been in there recently and I really don't want him cavorting around the pub in an orange apron if she walks in with her hoomun. He has already been down by the road wearing his newest favourite item of clothing hoping someone sees him and asks why he has got it. He will then start regaling them with his version of the story as to how he acquired it, which will obviously change every time he tells it. Overnight I have managed to chew the orange ties off the apron, so that should have put an end to that problem but we still have the rest of it to deal with. Liberal quantities of wee should deal with all the work surfaces he has propped up against the shed door, hopefully we will have rain before the weekend and that should be enough to persuade him to find something else, less problematic, to occupy his mind. Otherwise I may be spending the weekend in the calf sheds.

A Return to The Garden Centre

Well what a busy day we have had today! The Owner was charging around the house, first thing this morning, like a whirling dervish, with first the cleaning cloths and dusters and then to follow up with the ruddy Dyson. This kind of activity early on a Sunday morning can only mean one thing, we have visitors! And so it came to pass. Nearing lunch time, with The Owner showing beads of sweat across his brow, the door burst open and the darkened shape of Owners Daughter was here, hands on hips and already frowning very loudly. Inspection was passed with flying colours it would seem and Owners Daughters frown lessened considerably to the point where I could have sworn I heard her laughing! 

Then came the words which made me shudder to my very core. Owners Daughter wanted to go to...... The Garden Centre!!! Now, the last time The Owner went there he was asked to leave and the Lady Manager Hoomun told him never to return. This had all the hallmarks of the start to a bad afternoon! 

We arrived and The Owner jumped out of the car in a rather athletic fashion and virtually ran across the car park in his urgency to get inside. This could all go horribly wrong I feared, but we got through the doors without incident and I breathed a sigh of relief. So I wee'd over some flowers in a very big pot. I did notice a short while later they were looking a bit peeky but concluded that it must be down to the windy nature of the weather today. Then came the start of the whole downward slide of the events of the afternoon. Under a big tent was two very big and very long tables and a kind of tunnel was formed between the two by a bench across the top. This very big and very long structure was covered in hundreds of pots with flowers in them, Then The Owner got down on his hands and knees and crawled along the tunnel covered with pots with plants. Every time he was crawling past little old ladies looking at the plants, in his best squeaky voice that was clearly intended to sound like a plant, he was calling out "Buy me! Buy me! Please buy me!" The talking plant table was causing quite a stir around the garden centre as word got round. The Owner was clearly warming to his task as his messages got more elaborate. I sat in the corner, out of the way, with just a little morbid curiosity about how this was going to end. The one thing of which I was certain was that it would not end well. 

Having scared off the little old ladies from one end The Owner decided to move his attentions to the far end of the table to where there was still old ladies who hadn't fainted or wet themselves because of his efforts. You remember he was on all fours? Well he still managed to trip over a hosepipe and did a barrel roll that many an action hero would have been proud of and pushed the very big and very long tables apart and the whole lot came crashing down. Oh the shame of it!! Owners Daughter went and made herself scarce. I went and hid behind the big tent and just peeked around the corner, The Owner sat there surrounded by fallen and broken tables with pot plants and compost all around him. Some of it was even on his head. All the time he was shouting "I am not a number!", although I have no idea why. 

That was when Lady Manager Hoomun came striding down the corridor frowning even louder that Owners Daughter can. I opted for the safe option and went back to the car, when I got there Owners Daughter was already there, slurping on an ice cream. She had a second one in her hand which she offered to me saying "There you are Jack, he won't be wanting this for a while I think." When The Owner did return, he quietly got in the car clutching a little brown envelope which he wouldn't show to Owners Daughter. All the way home all he would say was "It was only a bit of harmless fun! No need to ban me!" As far as I can see he was already banned, so it wasn't going to make that much difference really.

Rooks New Nest and a Kippered Owner

Today a connection was made. One of those connections I have made in the past after The Owner has been sighing at me all day, to my utter bafflement, as he repaints the freshly painted door only four hours after he last did it, when I lay down and realise my tail is covered in wet paint. You know the kind of thing...

It was The Owner who made the connect on this occasion. He, no, we have been noticing the growing mess of small twigs building on the pathway down the side of the cottage as we walk towards the gate in the morning. I have sniffed at it occasionally and I even wee'd on them once, but The Owner has studied them rather more carefully but came up without conclusion as far as I can tell. He may as well have wee'd on them the same as me! He, no, we have also noticed that there is often Rook sitting on the gutter watching our progress and sometimes even with a twig in it's beak. I have occasionally seen The Owner with a blade of grass in his mouth, but never a twig. So far we have several twigs scattered across the path, level with the chimney, and a rook that often sits on the gutter with a twig in it's mouth, swearing in rookish quite a lot. I don't speak a lot of rook but I understand the basics, including swearing. This evening, being a little chilly indoors, The Owner has been busy trying to light the fire. The smoke, as you would expect, has been going straight up the chimney.... for only a few minutes..... before it started to come back down the chimney again.... and fill the room with smoke. The Owner seemed particularly perplexed by this and his eyes were running like he had been watching an edition of DIY SOS. As long as I laid on my comfy cushion I was largely below the level of the smoke so I was able to snooze through it. Eventually The Owner gave in and went outside so I followed him, out of curiosity really, to see what he was going to do next. Crow was sitting in his regular spot on the gutter when we emerged from the smog that was building in the kitchen and he clearly had a very great deal on his mind and seemed to be blaming The Owner for something. Mainly the smoke that seemed to be drifting out of his feathers as far as I could tell. After what seemed like an eternity a connection was made in The Owner's mind. His synapses were working at an astonishing speed today, as he connected the twigs, Crow and the fact that the living room was now filling rapidly with smoke from the fire. If I were Crow I would be keeping a very low profile in the morning as The Owner seems to have a particularly vengeful look in his eye. For that matter I think I may be out quite early in the morning. Just as a precaution. He is in the shed as I write looking for his set of sweeps rods. It could be a long evening I think!

A Good Night's Sleep

I have to report that The Owner's new bean bag is indeed a very comfortable and warm place to rest your weary bones. 

Yesterday The Owner managed to coax some life out of a particularly recalcitrant computer after several days and a whole lot of money spent arguing with it. So by last night he was feeling the relief and opted to go to bed a little earlier than usual. The computer seems to have learnt its lesson as it is still working and he has already given me a headache as he thumps away on the keyboard above me here in the office this morning. 

Last night, as if in some way to offer recompense for disappearing off to bed and leaving me, he gave me a mint flavoured chewey stick with the usual caustic comment of "Here you are dog breath!" which I pretended to ignore. Now I like to take my chewey sticks somewhere nice to chomp on and don't enjoy them so much when chomped just any old where, and that was when the idea hit me. The Owner, you may recall, has a new bean bag upstairs in our second living room. Now I quite like it up there, even though I am not really supposed to be upstairs. The windows are much lower and if I sit on the floor by them I can survey the scene across the farm as I plot my next patrol. So I waited a few minutes, with my chewey stick in my mouth, and tried to ignore the dribble which was escaping, until I thought he may be asleep. I thought about adopting the full-on charge up the stairs but instead went for the stealth approach. One paw on one step.. wait.... then another paw on another step..wait again, until the climb was complete. It all went well and the sleeping behemoth I know as The Owner, was still snoring for England in his bedroom, I had made it! So I clambered up on to the new bean bag and decided to put in an extra turn around before laying down, just for good measure. Then I enjoyed a good old chomp on my chewey stick. It was good! I noticed also that curled up on the bean bag I could see across the fields all the activity during the night. I noticed a very active badger run which I have made note of for a quick patrol later, just in case there is any badger poo, for the rolling in. Also I noticed a fox, who apeared to be, well, performing. We don't get too much fox poo around here to roll in so I have made note of that too.... then slumber overcame me. It was a pleasant nights sleep, and warm, so I slept well and nearly got caught out this morning when The Owner started to stir. So I scurried on down stairs and quickly curled up on my duvet to make it look as though I had been there over night. The result was convincing I thought, but it was never witnessed just how convincing my efforts were. The Owner, just out of bed, was bellowing from upstairs. "JACK" he said (I use capital letters to emphasise his volume) "COME HERE!!!". I am getting the feeling already that I am in trouble. So I crept up the stairs, as much on my belly  as I could manage. When I got to the top I poked my head around the corner of the stairs with a little wag of my tail, just the tip you understand, to see The Owner, hands on hips, fresh out of bed (not a pretty sight first thing in the morning), pointing in a very accusing manner at the bean bag. "Is that something to do with you?" Old Hawk Eyes had spotted the end of a chewey stick lying in the middle of the bean bag. Damn I missed some! I thought about going and getting it from the bean bag and finishing my snack but thought discretion would be by far the better option and crept downstairs again. Hopefully with his computer working now at a furious pace he will soon forget about where I spent the night. Otherwise it could be  long day here in the studio.

Filling The Bean Bag

Having cleared up the first attempt at filling the bean bag and still having the best part of three quarters of the bag of little white 'beans' still to be transferred into their final destination The Owner was becoming inventive. With a fist full of cable ties deployed about the bags and a self righteous expression upon his face he started to pour the 'beans'. After a few minutes of pouring, the bag of beans was empty and the bean bag was now kind of full (ish) and The Owner stood there with a self satisfied smug look across his face of a job well done. "There you are Jack", he said, "I knew I could do it!". I'll let you be the judge of that I think.....

The Bean Bag Has Arrived!

The Owner had really impressed me after the arrival from his new best friend Barney yesterday. He rummaged around in one of the boxes and found a piece of paper. The kind of piece of paper that he usually only reads after it has all gone horribly wrong and whatever it was would no longer work out of utter confusion over which button he had pressed and what he was expecting it then to do. He then READ the piece of paper!!! This was a first! He then went on to his favourite website for finding out how to do things, Youtube, and watched several short videos on how to put the contents from one box into the contents of the other box. "That all looks simple enough!" he said. Which to be honest is usually the precursor to things becoming quite complicated, as a rule. I noticed on the videos that the operation required two people, and whilst The Owner may be the size of two people in so many ways, he is just one. There then followed many phone calls which were all very similar. "Hi, are you busy in the morning? Hello? Hello? Hellooooo? Huh, lines gone dead!" There then followed the statement I always dread, "Well it can't be that hard with just one of you. 

Let me explain. In one box there was a bean bag and the other was the beans, although they didn't look that edible to me.. So we make a start... put elephants trunk end of bag inside bean bag... and then stand up. Elephants trunk end of bag falls out of bean bag.... so do half the beans in the bag before he noticed. He stood there for half an hour scratching he head trying to work out how he was going to get all the escapees rounded up and back into the bean bag, particularly when all the little white beans didn't like him so much and rolled away when he put his hands anywhere near them.

It took nearly an hour but he managed to corral the little white "Beans" in the corner and get all the escapees into the new bean bag. He still has that defiant 'I can do that' look about him at the moment and although I really should be going out on patrol about now, out of shear morbid curiosity, I can't help myself, I am going to have to stay and watch the circus unfold.

Superdad to the Rescue!

Yesterday we had a very busy day and not all the trouble was mine you will be so pleased to know. Yesterday we had lots of visiting hoomuns on the farm, all walking around eating Cornish pasties. I am not understanding why they aren't called Wiltshire pasties because Lady Dairy Hoomun made them as far as I can tell. One of the visiting hoomuns came on a motorbike and The Owner stood in the doorway looking on at the motorbike in a very appreciative fashion. I was fearful that he was going to go and talk to this motorbike hoomun in an attempt at hoomun bonding by regaling him with all his motorbike stories about all the motorbikes he has never had. Fortunately motorbike hoomun jumped off his bike and scurried round to the loo. I did venture in to the loo once and have never been allowed back in. Well if he had refilled my water bowl when I asked I wouldn't have needed to look for an alternative would I? Anyway, the morning descended into the normal monotony as he bashed away on the keyboard as I tried hard to snooze under his desk. Sometimes it can require great concentration to snooze under there when he is at his most animated! Coffee was a little later than usual so when he got up and picked up his mug to go and make it I was feeling the urge, so I did my little dance by the door to go out. He threw the door open for me as he walked past and I shot out. I hadn't quite realised how urgent it was becoming until then, so I rushed to the closest thing I could find that gave me enough elevation to be useful for weeing up. I was just getting to that 'aaaaaahhhhh' moment in mid flow. You know, the point where the pressure has lifted enough to no longer be painful, when The Owner appeared at the studio door and seemed to be quite agitated about something. It would seem that the black thing in the yard that I was using for my relief was in fact Motorbike Hoomuns helmet and apparently not for weeing on. I scuttled off and sat in the old pig sty where I could see the motorbike but was not immediately visible from it. Motorbike Hoomun returned and picked up his helmet, so I sunk a little lower in the straw, he put it on, I sunk lower. He took it off again... lower still...and looked at his helmet.... I can't get any lower, but I'll try. He took one of those girly wet-wipes out of his pocket and wiped his helmet over as he scanned the horizon for the culprit. The Owner was busying himself at drawers that he hasn't opened in years, so he could have his back to Motorbike Hoomun I suspect. Fortunately he didn't see me and even in his more argumentative moments I suspect that this was going to be one argument that The Owner wouldn't have won. 

Then, yesterday tea time Owners Daughter turned up. To see me obviously! Do you know why I like it when Owners Daughter turns up? We go in her car to a pub, that's why!! Cars are my favourite and pubs are even more my favouritest thing to visit. So she went to her car and opened the door. Well I could scarcely contain my excitement and leapt straight in. She wasn't impressed with my muddy pawprints on the seat... and said so.... loudly. So I jumped nimbly over the back.... hmm....the back seat was full of paintings. This was not going well! I think The Owner can repair most of them with some of his special duct tape. Seating arrangements formalised, she went to turn her car around. Now from where I was sitting the view was not all that clear, although I couldn't help but wonder if we were going just a little too close to the edge of the ditch..... yes, yes we were going too close to the edge! Everything came to a grinding halt followed by her favourite word. "Oops!" The Owner jumped out and took control and deftly removed her car from the ditch and spent the rest of the evening referring to himself as 'Superdad'. Much to the irritation of everyone in the pub as he told them all for the third or fourth time how he had saved the world from nuclear Armageddon at the very least. Today he is looking through the back of the wardrobe for something he can turn into a cape. I am just grateful he hasn't felt inspired to complete the outfit with a pair of tights with his underpants on the outside. I don't believe he has any of them without holes in so it is for the best I think.

My Visit to An Archaeology Dig

The Owner has developed a keen interest (as he tells everyone who is daft enough to listen) in archaeology. I have no real understanding of what archaeology is except that lots of strange hoomuns rush around in fields digging holes and unearthing things that someone else had broken and thrown away many years ago. They then rush around and get very excited and put the bits of rubbish in plastic bags and take them off somewhere. I assume they must be taking them to the recycling centre and disposing of them properly. This is what The Owner says he does with his stuff when anyone can hear him talking as he says it is his civic duty. I know that he often digs a hole and just buries his rubbish, presumably so that someone else, presumably an archaeologist hoomun, can then dig them all up again in years to come and get very excited about his discarded Shiphams fish paste jars. So I can see how this all works, I just don't see why. Well, yesterday a fine opportunity arose to satisfy my curiosity and desire to understand much of the hoomun condition. The Owner got in the car, I like cars, and announced to the world that we were going on an archaeology dig. It sounded impressive! When we got there The Owner joined in with all the other Archaeologist Hoomuns in getting very excited about some broken old pot, so I went on a quick patrol of the perimeter. Now I have noticed in the past that they get particularly excited when they find some old bones and they all get put in bags too and taken away, presumably to make into a nice soup for their supper when they get home. Now the bones I can understand the need to bury them for a while first, as they do improve with age. But in the course of my explorations I happened upon a hole in the ground and at the bottom of the hole was bones... loads of bones!! So I thought I would try and join in with the excitement and take one back to the Archaeologist Hoomuns tent for them. As I approached with the bone in my mouth an Archaeology Lady Hoomun who had breath that would descale a kettle at a thousand yards got very animated and started shouting "It's the Femur! It's the Femur!" Well my name isn't Femur, that I am aware. The Owner has never called me that anyway; he has called me many things but never Femur. She rushed over and snatched the bone from my jaws! Well there was no need to get possessive over it! There are many more in that hole over there, I thought, so I went to get another one. The Owner was instructed to go and "Get 'That Dog! and put it somewhere where it can't cause trouble". That Dog?!?! Expect repercussions! So I was put back in the car where I apparently can't cause any more trouble. Can't I? I wouldn't want to put too much money on that!

Draining The Somerset Levels

Oh this weekend I have had such trouble with The Owner! Although to be fair he may have a different version of events for Saturday. I was in the garden, enjoying the sunshine, down in Dingly Dell as you ask, and seeing if I could assist the water flow through the stream there. It was a wet and muddy job but I felt a certain sense of purpose to the whole mornings work and I felt I may have been getting somewhere by digging down to make the stream deeper. Well, The Owner is always ranting at the BBC News about dredging being needed on the Somerset Levels to lower the water levels so I was quite proud to think I may have been helping the water on the Somerset Levels too. About lunchtime I noticed The Owner making rangements on the phone but I continued my mission unconcerned. I had moved on to the stream running down the side of the path to the cottage which wasn't quite so muddy. You notice how I used the past tense there? I was stirring it up a little, but it has to get worse before it gets better doesn't it? Well that's what The Owner says although in his case most of his projects get worse and then sort of lose their way and stay worse. But don't tell him I said that. The stream... I noticed The Owner wander down the path as I was hard at work and a car pulled up in the layby and The Owner opened the car door. Well he was clearly not intentionally going to leave me behind was he? I leapt out of the stream, forgoing the shake to remove excess water (I could do that in a minute once I had caught up with The Owner), and ran down the path and launched myself forth, passing The Owner as I entered the car and hopped nimbly over the back. Now I can pause to shake I thought. It seems that this car was a taxi and Taxi Hoomun was not impressed about something. He asked me to get out and left both The Owner and me at the side of the road. He did return later and gave The Owner a bill for valeting the inside of his taxi. Not sure why, but I was getting the distinct vibe that we may not be using that taxi company again for a while and that The Owner was somehow blaming me for the whole scenario. Hoomuns, huh?

My Valentine Parcel

Postman Maul made me sign for a parcel today! Yes, another parcel (that's what he said too, only he used another word as well that I pretended not to understand). In my Valentine parcel was a card... a valentine card... for me! Ok, it didn't actually say Valentine on the card anywhere, but it was a card and it was sent on Valentines day so in my book that counts. Oh yes, and The Owner too but he doesn't count, it was addressed to me. Little heart shaped biscuits for me and one Bonio shaped with Jack written on it... well ok, so I had a quick chomp and there is only the K left, but you get the idea don't you. There was also a pack of heart shaped chews for The Owner and the observant among you may have noticed a little tear in the side of the packet where his fat little fingers have already been in the side of it and winkled one out. There was also some cakes in there but he has squirrelled them away, out of my reach, before I can get anywhere near them... but I can wait.

My Latest Parcel

Yesterday I was really quite excited as Postman Maul delivered a parcel....addressed to me! Well, whenever I get a parcel there is usually something good inside.. like Bonios. But old mulligrubs, at the desk above me here, grabbed it quick and whisked it away and left it on the shelf where I can't reach. I spent most of my day watching the box, dreaming of the endless possibilities of what could possibly be inside it. It may have been from my anonymous fan known only as BH7 (must be a bloodhound I have concluded) as Bloodhound 7 always sends me parcels with treats in. So as the day wore on the puddle of dribble grew ever bigger as I contemplated the contents of the box. Come evening time we wandered home, a little earlier than normal and The Owner carried my parcel for me. The excitement was building until we got through the door when The Owner my parcel on the kitchen shelf and shut the door behind him as he went off out! Without me since you ask!!!!! I sat watching my parcel for what seemed like an age until he returned carrying bags of stuff from Sainsbugs. Yes, there were Bonios in the bag which would ordinarily be the cause of great excitement but I wanted what was in the parcel! Eventually, shopping put away and a large glass of sherry poured, he sat down with MY parcel. The excitement was mounting as he got out his trusty old pen knife and set to work finding a way into it for me. There was enough sticky tape to keep an ageing battleship afloat around it but eventually he found a way in. I was beside myself! And no I still don't quite understand what that means, but I was. And inside was.......... electrical switches! How do you eat one of them for heavens sake??? 

I consoled myself with the packing which wasn't quite what I had been imagining to be honest but it did have some giant bubble wrap. I like normal bubble wrap as it makes my tongue feel funny so I thought that giant bubble wrap would have been giant pleasure as I sank my teeth in to it. It went off with a giant pop in my mouth!!! That's what the giant stands for! It scared me so much a little bit of wind came out as I clambered on to The Owner's lap knocking his sherry over as I went. He was very quiet for the rest of the evening as he kept looking at the damp patch, formerly known as a glass of sherry, and sighing a lot and frowning at me a lot too. This morning he is getting very excited about a screw driver that he can't find, I think it best I leave him to it.