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.
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.
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.
