Parcel Shelves - What are they, What do they do? Discuss!

Perhaps I should first explain. When The Owner had a car, before he disappeared last year, I rode in the back. I like riding in the back, it's my favourite! He would normally open the tailgate and I would jump in, ok, there were one or two rapid changes of plan, when, half way through the jump, I would realise that the back of the car was already full of heaven knows what! In which case I would have to ride in the foot well on the passenger side at the front. But I like cars and that's the way I ride in them!

Now, back to the story in hand. I was sat in the garden watching a bee trying to land on my nose which as everyone knows is a particularly tiring activity, when a black car pulled up outside. I thought at first that The Owner had got a car again but no, it was Owners Sister! She got out of the car followed by a little spaniel thing that had far too many opinions than was good for him in my mind...........and a horse! She said it was a dog, called Millie, but if I explain that I could almost run underneath her without breaking stride you'll understand my reasons for believing her to be a horse. It was then that my little faux pas occurred. The car door was left open and ever hopeful of a little trip out somewhere....... anywhere really, so I hopped in! I thought I had better be a little nippy about it or else I may have been rumbled, so I jumped (in a very athletic manner I thought) from the front seat to the back seat and then without slowing, over the back seat to get into the boot.......... Now I have never come across a parcel shelf in a car before and I am guessing I may not come across that one again, judging by the way that what was left of it after The Owner helped me out of the car, was shovelled up and into the dustbin. Does anyone have a spare parcel shelf for a black car like the one The Owner used to drive? I may have a use for it!

My Cushion Returns

You will, I am sure, feel as relieved as I was that I eventually get my comfy cushion back from being ruined. Now you will be asking asking yourself as to exactly how or why it has taken him so long to return it to me after this ruinous process. He first stole it from me and then woke the washing machine up far too early in the month for what it has become accustomed to. It promptly had a hissy fit and pumped water all over the kitchen floor which he blamed me for as it was my hair that had blocked the filters. After his efforts at baling out the kitchen from soap and slightly hairy water and aided by two glasses of red wine he forgot about my cushion. I, however, was constantly reminded by the hardness of the floor! He was reminded when the smell of damp washing, left too long in the washing machine, came wafting through from the kitchen, so it had to be washed over again. This time he remembered to get it out of the machine but instead of just putting it in the tumble dryer so I could have it back again, he opted to dangle it over the fence to dry. It rained that night! Being made of foam it had absorbed most of the rain from the surrounding fields by morning and so had to go back in the machine again. Again placed on the fence to dry it attracted the unwelcome attentions of Pigeon, who landed on it and gave it the full benefit of his abilities in the "pooing on The Owner's car " department. Back in the washing machine again after an accusing stare was directed towards me (like I had anything to do with that!). This time it was put straight into the tumble dryer as I had thought it ought to have been right at the start. I don't like to mention that I was right all along, but I think I was! So this morning, after much ado about nothing, I was presented with my clean Comfy Cushion. Clean, that is, if you regard the smell of "spring blossom" as being clean. I am currently looking for a suitable something to roll in and then roll on the cushion to restore the equilibrium a little.

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!