My World is not good

This has not been the most auspicious start to any of my days I have ever had. After the "theft" by The Owner of my comfy cushion last night and wilful destruction of the same by placing it in the washing machine with soap and smelly stuff and turning it on.

Then the subsequent discovery of not only his hat, which I had only slightly chewed, and his tatty old jacket, but several other little treats I had squirrelled away under there for my personal pleasure. He has of course also discovered without any doubt that it was me who thieved his chicken, left in the sun one evening to thaw out by way of certain "evidence" hidden under my cushion, which he waved accusingly under my nose. I took myself off to the boot room after all that. This morning, I took myself off for the early patrol and returned to be reminded that there was only bare floor where my cushion would normally be. It seemed a fitting replacement would be one of his cushions off the settee. You know, the ones made of velvet. As soon as he saw me, I was getting a strange vibe from him. Even more so when he unceremoniously evicted me from the cushion by whipping it out from under me like a magician with a table cloth. So I sat, on bare carpet, disconsolately watching the telly, when there was this article on the news about my nemesis. Ducks! And they were laughing at me as they swam about their pond. I think I may go and find a hedge to sit under somewhere.....

Never Right!

The Owner has an expression for moments when an apparent injustice has befallen him. In the dulcet tones of his west country accent he would utter with great gravitas, "Never right!" and I think this is one of just those occasions. Earlier, I had been on patrol, a quick trip round the paddock to see if my mate Adge the Badge was about.

It was probably a little early for him so I returned to the cottage. As I came scampering through the door into the boot room there stood The Owner, by the washing machine. Now I know that it is a matter of some consternation when The Owner gets too close to the washing machine outside of his monthly cycle but this was a matter of GREAT consternation! He stood there with this look of concern, bordering on irritation, upon his face as he waved his old hat around on his index finger. How did he ever find that?!?!? After I had a little chew on it one day, when I needed a little comforting, I hid it behind his old jacket underneath my comfy cushion. Now you would be forgiven, as I thought should I, for believing that it would be safe from discovery hidden under there. So how did he find it? I went scurrying off to find my comfy cushion and escape from the accusing look which was coming my way........ but it was gone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am finding the disappearance of my comfy cushion, the reappearance of his old hat (with added ventilation - K9 stylee) and the out of calender sequence rumblings of that washing machine in the corner of the kitchen may perhaps all be in some way connected! As I said; "Never right!".

Nettle Rash

Yesterday afternoon I was a little less than comfortable and this morning I have a little rash (in the gentleman's department seeing as you ask!). It was raining buckets yesterday morning here and I had the distinct feeling that The Owner was not going to be going out that door for the morning patrol very early.

Did I say distinct feeling? Should have read 'distinct wish'. You know where you are with rivers and ponds but when it is coming from the sky, water is an altogether unpleasant experience in my books. So, rain clouds empty, a lazy patrol was in order. We took off down towards the studio (See, he has even got me calling it that now) and I stopped at the end of the manor garden wall to spray a little of my own water. The paddock just beyond the gardens wall is usually empty these days so imagine my surprise when these brown calves, all ten of them, stuck there heads through the railings with a low bovine rumble right beside where I was weeing! Well I jumped (and who wouldn't) which is a dangerous thing to do in mid flow. Unfortunately in doing so I managed to dangle my gentleman's bits in the nettle patch! A most unpleasant experience and I admit I let out a little yelp, but despite my best efforts to wash it off, the stinging got worse. Even jumping in the pond brought little relief. I thought The Owner may have been suffering from the same problem at first as he was sat on the floor holding his belly with tears running down his cheek. But no! He was laughing at my misfortune to the point where he couldn't stand up! I am thinking his armpits need to be infested with the fleas of a thousand camels here! This morning the stinging has stopped and left me with more of a tingle and a rash which still has elicited little in the way of sympathy from The Owner. Weeing up posts etc. has been a delicate and careful affair this morning.

My Routine

I have developed a little routine of late and I am beginning to see why The Owner seems to enjoy it so much. Most mornings his routine for himself is to make a mug of tea, put two slices of bread in the toaster, retire to the sofa and absent mindedly munch on his buttered toast and then shower before dressing and then shuffling off down the road to the office - sorry, studio.

Well, of late my own routine has not been dissimilar! On a recent patrol round the calf sheds I happened upon something organic and I confess I was at something of a loss as to exactly what to do with it for the best, roll in it, or eat it. So, the other morning on an early patrol, I decided to get my shoulder in it and then rush back to the cottage to see The Owner who was munching absent mindedly on his toast. He immediately went a funny colour and ran out leaving his toast on the carpet. Not one to leave an opportunity like that unused I cleaned it up for him. He called me outside and set about me with the hosepipe, so I went to the studio with a full belly and a clean coat. A not unpleasant experience I thought. So every morning since, after my breakfast, I have made a quick patrol up to the calf sheds for a quick roll, back to the cottage to show The Owner, he predictably goes a funny colour and runs out. Two slices of toast? Rude not to! Then he lurks outside with the hosepipe, so I have my "Shower". Not sure what to do when I have used up all the organic matter in the calf sheds. May have to widen my patrol and find a reserve supply.

The Rook

Mornings for The Owner and me are a quite predictable transition from slumber to the outside world and work and other important stuff, apart from when I throw the odd curveball in; because I can.

Ordinarily it goes much along the line of The Owner coming grumbling down the stairs and putting the kettle and his toast on, letting me out, feeding me and then taking his tea and toast into the living room to watch the breakfast news whilst I go out for my early morning patrol. When I get back he is sat there either snoozing or watching something which has caught his attention and I settle down on the carpet for a snooze myself, until he is ready for his shower and then on to work. Today it had followed much the same routine until I heard a rook land on the chimney and his mild squawks came wafting down the chimney. I did no more than raise an eyebrow and then carry on snoozing when suddenly the stupid bird lost its balance and fell down the chimney! We then had The Owner rushing around the living room chasing a rook who was very intent on not being helped and had a lot to say on the matter. There was soot and feathers flying everywhere, as well as most of The Owner's ornaments, photos and books! Eventually The Owner managed to herd the rook out through the front door in a move that would have been worthy of One Man & His Dog, only without the whistles and the "Come by's!" After Rook's repatriation to the great outdoors The Owner returned and stood beside me, a little more awake than he was only moments before, and surveyed the carnage in the living room. It gave me a certain sense of pleasure to think that this was one big "Ooops!" moment that I was in no way responsible for, even in The Owners somewhat distorted version of reality!

People Fallling Over

Well I must apologise for not reporting on this yesterday but The Owner was hogging the computer all day writing about it all in his memoirs. I mean, who would want to read about a middle aged, slightly rotund bloke with a crusty old barbour jacket and a dog? So, on Sunday it appeared to be a day of falling over. Not through the usual liberal consumption of drink but, well, let me explain.

Sunday morning was spent with a conspicuous lack of the promised activity i.e. hoovering, mowing, changing of beds etc. until just after lunch when he jumps out of the chair and grabs my lead. Now the only place I wear my lead is in the pub (pub rules) so I got really excited and ran round and around until I nearly knocked him over. Which did illicit a sort of growl from The Owner, so off we went to the pub. About half way up there I had been put on my lead because he reckoned I was sniffing too many posts and stuff. Then The Owner suddenly threw himself to the ground! I thought he must have wanted to play so I jumped on him and tried to stick my nose into many places that normally cause him to laugh but on this occasion he just grumbled as it turned out he had tripped over on a pothole. Since then he has been making plans to sue the council, the police, central government and Robert Mugabe. I'm not sure what he thinks Robert Mugabe had to do with it as I don't think he lives around here. After a few drinks, and eager to find a reason to get another drink after time has been called, he started to talk to Bar Maid. Eventually Bar Maid got fed up with talking to him as well and said she must be going and stood up to go. With that she threw herself to the floor as well. I couldn't see any potholes in the pub floor! The Owner jumps up and throws himself to the floor "To help her in her hour of need!" Well I thought they were all playing a game which looked kinda fun so I threw myself on top of the pair of them but it wasn't appreciated. Land Lord took me to one side whilst The Owner made her comfortable and held her hand a lot. Ambulance Man turned up and complained loudly about dogs hairs on his uniform so Kitchen Yoof was told to take me outside. I didn't think it was worth being banished! When a big ambulance turned up with flashing blue lights they also complained about dog hairs so I contented myself with weeing up their tyres. I've never been in an ambulance before but judging by the fuss they all made I don't think I am going to be invited to any time soon.

Cat in the Pond

Sometimes you just notice things which you realise you should have known all along and yesterday was one of those days. I realised that cats don't float! I also realised that although when I, a K9, get wet through, it reveals my muscular figure as my wet coat clings to my rippling shoulders and thighs, a cat just looks kinda ridiculous.

Yesterday The Owner took me to see Owners Dad which happens altogether too infrequently. I say this not out of any necessary affection but because whenever I have gone there, Owners Dads Cat has offered me rich pickings from the remnants of barbecues or biscuits when he has overreacted to my appearance. So on this occasion, a barbecue not being one of the things on offer, I opted to lay in the conservatory nearest to a plate full of digestives which The Owner was devouring with great delight and frankly, to the exclusion of Owners Dad, despite his protests on the matter. Owners Dads Cat, who I shall refer to here as just Cat, left our little ensemble and went up the garden and laid in the sun under a funny little red tree beside the pond. In one of the neighbouring gardens Blackbird (and I don't think it is the same one as we have in the cottage garden as he spoke with a different accent) was venting forth on the presence of both a cat and a dog. "Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, cat, cat, cat,cat,cat,catcatcatcat!" he shouted at the world as he took off from his perch on some apparent suicide mission over the top of the fence and swooped low over the pond and straight past Cat. Cat decided it would be good to vary his diet from the usual frogs and slow worms together with "on demand" dried food and include a little blackbird. So he lept forth from under the tree with claws drawn and missed Blackbird completely and it was at this point that Cat realised the flaw in his plan. He was three feet in the air, over the pond, and with no visible or practical means of support. I also have now realised that cats generally can make some very strange noises! Unlike myself when I get unexpectedly wet, I leap energetically from the pond to try and give the impression that I meant to do it, Cat just looks like The Owner trying to get out of the bath after using too much bath oil. I am sorry to admit that I am beginning to understand the pleasure in laughing at other animals misfortune and can see why The Owner seems to enjoy it so much.