The Visit to The Opticians

I have discovered today what an optician is and I think tomorrow we need to discover a different one! Last week sometime, the electricity went off, and so when we wandered home after patrol, the cottage was dark and silent. All he had to do was to go and press the switch, but no, he starts to reminisce about his childhood and the three day week. I have yet to work out what a three day week is as ours around here are all seven days. Must be a the other side of Swindon! He decided that an evening "By the light of the fire and a few candles" would be a good way to spend the time. Now something I have noticed about hoomuns is that their eyesight is not so good in the dark as us K9's. He went round to the wood shed and after fumbling around a little and swearing a bit, he re-emerged with an armful of logs. Inside the cottage his eyesight had improved none and I could see he was about to tread on his reading glasses in the middle of the floor. I was right!! He did tread on his glasses in the middle of the floor! Sometimes I even surprise myself! This necessitated us making a trip today into town to the opticians. He can be so embarrassing sometimes, when he feels a certain sense of injustice. No one else thinks his injustices are unjust, only in his little world. After selecting a pair off the rack that weren't bent and twisted like his old ones he went to pay for them as Mummy Hoomun was sorting out some for her small boy (not to be confused with my Small Boy) and Optician Hoomun said they were free. The Owner's were not free! They were the cause of much holding head in hands and shouting "How much?!?!?" There then followed much shouting and arguing about how much he has paid in taxes and stuff and as a large crowd was gathering at the shop doorway to see what the noise was about I crept outside and awaited the end of the argument when he was asked to leave again. Rolling in badger poo is such a simple way of life, don't you think?

Thoughts on Gold Foil Stuck to Noses

I have been more than a little charitable to The Owner during his recent "Medical Problems". I am not drawing any conclusions from his experiences and his palpitations occurring shortly after the arrival of his new medical dictionary! There is also a section I have noticed at the back on K9 ailments, which he is reading at the moment, amidst periodic glances in my direction over the top of his glasses (more of which later I am sure), accompanied by the occasional episode of K9 manhandling as he prods and pokes his way to disproving a further life affecting K9 affliction. Look, I am healthy!!! OK?!?!?!? I will of course draw no inference from the fact that the K9 section is at the back! However, after this morning, my formerly charitable feeling of "bon homme" has evaporated. Last night, he was drinking beer from bottles with funny corks in which he delights in firing around the room whilst trying to see how many times he can bounce them off walls, ceilings and other furniture and still hit me on the rump. They also come with gold foil covers over the top. This morning after breakfast and early patrol I had a quick sniff around the living room carpet looking for any traces of Bonio chomps from last night, or other edible detritus left behind, when a piece of this gold foil got stuck to my wet nose. It could be thought of in the same terms as hoomuns wearing mittens and then getting a hair in their mouths. Paws and claws are just not good at getting rid of bits of gold foil stuck to damp noses! The Owner, predictably, has found the whole matter very amusing and keeps laughing loudly at me every time he sees me and, as the foil in question is sticking up at the front of my nose, and in permanent view from where I can see it, keeps asking whether I prefer a cross hair or traditional blade sight. I responded by finding some badger poo for one shoulder and something indescribable in the calf sheds for the other. I was then banished to the boot room until the hose had been dug out of the shed and the yard broom rescued from wherever Small Boy had left it. I was then washed down in rather too rough a manner for someone of my breeding. He has now stolen my comfy cushion and my duvet and both are in the washing machine. The poo I found has been a particularly good vintage and has resisted normal attempts at removal. I am choosing to draw no conclusion at the moment from the fact that he is calling me in an altogether too friendly fashion from the bathroom, after much sloshing of water in the bath. I will report later on the glasses situation.

The Birthday Tea

Today is Friday and, perhaps predictably, we have been to the pub, "To celebrate your Birthday Jack!" he said. Am I missing something here? My Birthday, he gets the drink? The good news is that I managed to get him back home and past the pond without incident. Now, yesterday, we went to the studio. The Owner said to me, "Jack my boy, t's your birthday!" Well after past Birthdays I was immediately suspicious, I still remember the hangover! But, he offered me a dish of tea which I thought sounded a good idea. When Small Boy makes me tea I find it quite pleasant as an experience so I got quite excited and bounced around a lot. Well, three pints of tea was perhaps a little bit too much but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth do you? It was about an hour before the bladder became a little too uncomfortable, so The Owner let me out in to the paddock. Well I wee'd and I wee'd and I wee'd! The Owner was a little uncharitable, I felt, when he asked me if I wanted the Sunday papers to read whilst I was busy. When we got back to the cottage, Postman had delivered lots of chews and doggy chomps. Well, I had to sample a few didn't I? Not sure what was in one of them but it made me feel a bit funny and I finished up running from room to room. I couldn't help it!!!! The tally was; 2 pint glasses (full), a box of champagne flutes (now a box of bits), his favourite tea mug (no handle), his dinner plate (full), oh yes, and the table lamp (now without a lampshade). I am thinking that Birthdays may be overrated! I am going for a lie down!

More Wise Words from Jack Labrador

More wise sayings from Jack Labrador - Badger poo is a poo by any other name.

Wise Words from Jack Labrador

More wise sayings from Jack Labrador - A Bonio in the hand is worth.......well......eating really!

The Log Delivery

Yesterday, Bracknell Hoomun and Lady Bracknell Hoomun arrived and brought some logs for The Owner. When I say "some" logs, I mean a lorry load! It took them ages to unload them and carry them round the back and put them in the fuel shed. The fuel shed is now full beyond even The Owners head height right out to the door. I assisted with the process as you would expect, until Bracknell Hoomun nearly ran me over with his wheelbarrow and he seemed particularly vexed by having to load the barrow up again with what he dropped. I left The Owner alone as he seemed in a particularly bad mood as well, after he dropped one of his logs on his foot, just in case he found a way that it was my fault. I went instead and assisted Lady Bracknell Hoomun, mainly coz she had a pocketful of Markies and every time she got down off the lorry, I got one! This morning The Owner is wandering round the house looking for something. In the last few days we have had several deliveries of treats for me. My anonymous friend Blood Hound 7 sent me some treats through the post and then Andrew Plod Hoomun turned up looking for coffee and he brought me some treats, of which I was allowed only the one. Well this morning The Owner is looking for them to give me one for being a "Good Boy". Well, in hoomun terms, a "Good Boy" I am certainly not. But I have to report that treats do somehow taste better when you just find them when you are not supposed to. I think the peace and air of fraternity in the cottage may be shattered when he discovers the empty packet in the boot room. I hope he finds it soon so we can get that bit over and done with for the day coz I just know I will be in trouble when he does. It's raining hard outside so I can't escape to the farm so it may be a long day.

Oh No, Dog Dancing!!!

I was sat there this morning with The Owner, the start of a peaceful Saturday morning, I thought. Our Saturday mornings are seldom out of the ordinary and seldom ever rushed as he watches Breakfast News on the BBC. He is too much of a snob to watch anything else and to be honest I don't mind as I watch Mike Bushell the sports presenter do strange things in the name of unusual sports which usually confounds any theories I may have been forming about the hoomun condition during the previous week. This morning I sat there and saw him start his report and pulled up a corner of my comfy cushion that I hadn't dribbled on or covered in other unidentifiable stains to watch his hoomun sporting antics. I could not believe what I saw!! Dancing Dogs!!!!! After watching this, for the next ten minutes The Owner was fidgeting in a way that I understand only too well, a plan is forming in his mind! I would be making myself scarce for a while as these kind of plans usually are at my expense. I went up the garden and found the spot behind the barbie, true there was little sun and the wind was a bit chilly but it was safer than remaining indoors with The Owner when he is plotting ways of getting himself into the spotlight again.