The Clean White Shirt

Yesterday I was impressed with my own quick thinking. Lightning reactions I had! Decisions were made in the blink of an eye! Why is it though that decisions made like that always seem to have such far reaching, yet unforeseen, consequences? Yesterday morning The Owner was up early and was flitting around the cottage in his domestic duties pinny. You really don't want to know what else he was wearing! He was busy doing his best to vacuum all the dust up, only for it to be deposited somewhere else by that demonic Dyson The more I see of it the more I am convinced that it is of the devil and that I was always right to be very wary of it. With all the dust now removed from the floor and placed deftly on the dining table by that ruddy Dyson, The Owner turned his attention to the bath. He came down a while later wearing his work meeting trousers and his posh new jacket that I have already caused to have to go to see Dry Cleaner Hoomuns and then started pacing from room to room and outside and around the garden. He gives me such a headache when he is like that! After a while a very large car pulled up outside which I could see had room for a K9 in the back, but The Owner jumped in and left me in the garden! I was not impressed about that and even tried my forlorn look to no avail. Some time later he returned full of bonhomie (and wine) and came through the gate. So I ran swiftly to greet him, my immediate attention was grabbed by the scent of another K9 about his person as I approached and, quick as a flash I ran straight past him and ran quickly round the middy puddle formerly known as his parking space in front of the cottage. He was unaware of my cunning plan, he thought I was doing my silly run to greet him! Back through the gate.... target acquired! Clean new white shirt beneath his jacket..... paws primed.... and launch! Bulls eye!!!! I thought the mud looked so good, contrasting wonderfully with the white of his shirt. He didn't seem pleased at all with me all afternoon and yesterday evening and the same silent treatment has continued today with just the one Bonio all day today. He is still sighing a lot every time he looks at me, even today. Not sure at the moment how long he is going to keep this up. It could be a quiet evening today as well. There he goes again, past the boot room door and yes there was another sigh. Hoomuns!!!!

Going Out!

We went out earlier today. Me and The Owner. I like going out, although it does seem to matter what The Owner is up to or what he is thinking as to how much I might enjoy it. So this morning we went out, me, The Owner and his mate in his mates bus thing. I like going out in The Owners mates bus as it has lots of places for me to sit. I can sit right in the back amongst his bags of bits, or I can sit on the seats in the middle. That is good fun too, as my hair gets in the car seats and then he is in trouble with his Lady Hoomun and his Hoomanettes. And then there is my absolute favourite place to sit, on the front seat coz I can sit there and lick the windscreen which is kinda fun as it makes my tongue feel funny. Although Owners Mate does complain loudly about it making a mess on the windscreen but I forgive him when he gives me a Bonio. You may remember my visitors last week, Photographer Hoomun and Lady Reporter Hoomun? Well, our mission for today has been to go around every newsagent in the area and buy loads of copies of the paper so that he can show everyone he knows when he was in the paper. The Owners Mate's Bus Thing was full of papers on the way back so I had to sit in the best spot of all, on the front seat and..... more windscreens to lick. They are my favourite! I think I am going to be aloud to sleep in the house tonight, the boot room is full of newspapers!

A "Dump of Snow"

It is a quiet start to a Saturday morning here at the cottage. The Owner is sitting with his second large mug of tea watching the news and hasn't even shouted at the presenters yet! I believe he is setting himself up to count the number of birds on his bird table for the annual RSPB bird count. Not sure why, last year there wasn't one bird landed on the bird table. I know this to be true as I was sat underneath it watching intently! But I have just heard a report on the breakfast news which I feel I need to disassociate myself from. Our snow has largely gone overnight but there are many pictures of cars getting stuck in the snow and Reporter Hoomun has just announced there was a large dump in the snow last night and I would just like to point out that I was in no way responsible!!! I confined my activities in the dumping department to the top of the garden and after a quick sniff scratched some dead leaves over it so that The Owner doesn't know it is there until he has trod in it.

On Reporters and Photographers

This week I have had visitors! (And lots of Bonios of course.) First there was this young lady hoomun who I think The Owner referred to as Lady Reporter Hoomun. She was mere putty in the hands of one so experienced in the art of Bonio extraction as I. The tally was running at three in half an hour! The Owner pretended not to mind at all, although he was quite clearly counting them up because he short-changed me a bit in the evening Bonio department. The Owner liked her as she laughed at all his jokes, whether she understood them or not and there are few who would do that for him. Most smile and say "Right....." and then he has to explain them by which time they are not funny any more. Then the next day Photographer Hoomun arrived with a camera which had the longest lens ever! Honestly, if he stood it on end it would have been tall enough for even Monkey Dog Thing to have cocked his leg on it! He also gave me a Bonio out of my Bonio bucket so he went straight up in my estimation. Then came the problem! He wanted to take pictures of The Owner and got out this very posh bag which was filled with lots of little bags with interesting camera type things in... and sandwiches... which were very interesting! The Owner was told to go and sit on a big log whilst Photographer Hoomun took lots of pictures so I had a quick sniff at the bag where he left it on the ground outside the studio door. Photographer Hoomun said "Oi, Gerroff!" to me. I pretended not to understand the insult this time round. Well you always give the benefit of the doubt the first time round don't you? In case they have no understanding of my obvious breeding. He followed it by addressing The Owner with "Can you get THAT dog sat in front of you and behaving himself?" That was war! I sat with The Owner as requested for a few pictures, then Photographer Hoomun said to The Owner, "Can we get his best side? Does he have a best side?". That's Ok, I can wait... The Owner started regaling him with all his stories about how he was a photographer many years ago, (which he made up as he went along) so whilst he was distracted I went to his bag, helped myself to his packet of sandwiches and wee'd in his bag. He didn't notice, when he threw his bag in his car, the stream of wee dribbling out of the bottom of his bag. But I guess he will later! :)

The Owners Journey to Work (and I still don't like the snow!).

Oh joy of joys! Let joyousness abound! It's been snowing overnight! Morning patrol was as far as the first post big enough that I could wee up and then straight back indoors for breakfast. Eventually I guess it had to happen, The Owner puts his crusty old Barbour jacket on and his boots, thermal gloves and extra socks inside his boots ready to go outside. What do I get?? A pat on the head! As if that makes it any better!!! I did, reluctantly, venture outside the front door and The Owner was nowhere to be seen. Then there was a big thud on the top of my head as the first snowball hit me. It's going to be one of those days I can tell! So I ran for the gate, just to avoid the heap of snowballs The Owner had already made and got laying in a heap at his feet and which I have the strangest feeling have my name on them. Arriving at the gate, rapidly, I discover that the brakes aren't working properly either this morning, so I slid on my back straight into it. Oh the mirth and hilarity I had to endure over that one! The tables were turned slightly when we got out on to the road as the soles of his boots weren't built for snow any more and he had left his new patrol boots at the office. He did stay upright....just! But that was more by luck than judgement I fear. Imagine the scene... two precarious steps forward and then wave both arms about as if impersonating a windmill whilst he regains his balance. Two more steps and then more windmill waving as he grabs the branches overhanging the hedge for support, which break away in his hand. Then more windmill waving whilst he gets his feet onto the heap of snow that formally was known as the grass bank, where he rests for a while. Then two more steps etc. I left him to it and slid and slithered my own way to the studio and sat in the dry by the firewood store whilst I awaited his lengthy arrival. I am looking forward to going home time as it happens, when hopefully he will be lighting the fire. In the meantime I will be curled up on a duvet behind the electric fire and under the desk if anyone wants me. And no I don't need a wee! Just in case anyone has any bright ideas on such matters.

I Don't Like Snow!!!!!!!!!!!

I am having an harrumph! (Is it "a" harrumph or "an" harrumph? Spell check doesn't seem to have an opinion about it. Unlike almost everything else I write!) The Owner is at the studio and has just made a mug of tea for himself, which means Bonios. But then insists that I want to go out and have a wee!!! Well I think I'll be the judge of that one!

Small Boy and Friends Visit

Sundays, as I have mentioned oft times before, are very predictable and ordered in the cottage. Last Sunday was not expected to be very different, as far as I was aware. I am accustomed to snooze happily in the boot room until The Owner comes grumbling down the stairs, when I try and gauge the mood he may be in from the volume of his grumbling. I do this just to match my eagerness to greet him in an appropriate fashion to his mood. I didn't hear the customary grumbling the other side of the boot room door, but I could hear movement in the kitchen. Now this could have meant that The Owner had fallen asleep on the sofa again and he, The Owner, would likely have a stiff neck and so full volume bouncing would be required to snap him out of any self pity. I heard the latch and the door cracked open a little bit, so I burst forth in a frenzy of greetings......... Where the hell did he come from???? Small Boy was stood there!!!!! Behind him was Driver Yoof!!!!! I was expecting to see Text Yoof and Toni Yoofette too but they were nowhere to be seen. But there was another figure who I have now come to know as Headbanger Yoof, mainly as he is a little taller than the rest and spent most of his day banging his head on doors and other stuff around the cottage which are way above where I need to worry about. I was unable to find The Owner though! It was a Sunday, so I became very concerned that he may have gone walkabout again but I noticed his boots were still there as Small Boy, Driver Yoof and Headbanger Yoof took me off for an early patrol. So he can't be far. We returned to the cottage, after Small Boy had found something new to do with a rope swing by swinging very high and then somehow breaking the rope and flying a very long way through the air and landing in a big heap on the ground. It looked great fun and everyone laughed loudly, but I noticed he only did it the once. When we got back, my breakfast was in my dish and fresh water in the other one and The Owner was sat reading his paper and drinking a big mug of steaming tea.... and grumbling a lot. So no change there then. Small Boy brought a large lump of rock in to the house from the car and gave it to The Owner, which I was a little surprised about as when ever I bring any little treasures into the cottage The Owner usually has an opinion on the matter. But he seemed genuinely pleased with this very large treasure and started taking pictures. Everyone then got in to Driver Yoof's car and we all went to Divine Cafe for breakfast. I have to sit in the car of course, which was where I had my first little incident and knocked over a bottle of coke, all over the car seat. I have to admit there was quite a lot of it and it did froth quite a lot, which was quite interesting. It happened to be on the seat that The Owner was to sit on too and from a K9 perspective it was funny watching him squirm as his trousers became more and more uncomfortable. Small Boy and his friends spent the rest of the day pointing at his wet bum and sniggering, as Yoofs do, I have noticed. Fortunately I believe I may have got away with that one.