The Owner's Bargains Shopping

The Owner has had a bit of a grumpy Sunday... I think it is a phase he is going through! He has had a row with the Sunday papers and I was a bit worried as Barney K9 pinched the middle section of his paper and took it off up the garden but The Owner has neither got to the middle of his paper yet or found the remains of the  missing pages up in the top of the garden.

 At about lunchtime and after he had opened himself a beer left over from yesterdays adventures, we went on a short patrol and finished up at the studio. Having walked through the door I was a little miffed to see The Owner through the windows open and grab his Sainsbugs bags. The frame of mind he was in this morning the Sainsbugs bags could easily have meant that he was going to Tesco's or Morrissons but as he left me and Barney K9 in the studio with the words "I'm off to Sainsbugs, you two will be better left here." in an unusual show of concern for our well being. 

He returned in a very unusually jovial frame of mind which means only one thing... he has found the bargain shelves well stocked. He struggled through the studio door laden with all kinds of goodies, including a fresh chicken and 'an exquisite Sancerre'. He also had another bag with wine bottles in I noticed and I can be fairly sure they will have been half price too. Having spent the remainder of the afternoon gainfully employed shouting at the computer we started our stroll home. For me, today has been remarkably blame free...so far. Barney K9 has to walk on a lead still but The Owner likes to give him a long lead. I don't need a lead (apart from the pub, pub rules), it's my breeding showing through I think you'll find! So we start the journey home with The Owner on one side of the road and Barney K9 on the other and the lead stretched between the two, and The Owner, laden with Sainsbugs bags loaded with the spoils from his foray to the shops. I was rather busy sniffing at stuff so was left a little behind and scampered up the road to catch them up a bit. This was the bit where my day turned a little awry to be honest. The Owner hadn't heard me arrive, it would seem, and as I leapt nimbly over Barney K9's long lead he flicked the lead a little. When I say 'a little' I really mean enough for me to jump straight into the lead which rather lead to the bag with all his wine bottles getting wrenched from his hands. Four bottles of wine to be precise, and all in pieces, and the lead still tangled around my legs meant there was no denying it, I had broken The Owners special offer wine bottles. Both Barney K9 and I had to sit and stay whilst The Owner cleared up the glass whilst casting some very disagreeable looks in my direction. I was anticipating short rations in the Bonio department this evening. So we eventually continued our journey homeward and that was when The Owner delivered the coup de grâce... on himself! Barney K9 decided it was a suitable opportunity to... well.....perform. The Owner noticed that he was performing a little too close to the lead so gave it a quick flick which neatly and deftly flicked Barney K9's recent deposit, caught in mid air, into The Owners bag with his bargain chicken in. Judging by the ferocity with which his bag of broken glass and all of his other shopping bags were thrown into the bins as we passed them I am guessing his chicken dish washed down with 'a fine Sancerre' may resemble more beans on toast washed down with a bottle of beer. An evening to keep a low profile I think. Me and Barney K9 will be behind the settee if anyone wants us.

The Fly and The Owners Toe

My newest buddy, Barney K9, has a problem with flies. The Owner has a problem with his big toe and as improbably as it sounds, the two are connected. It is the season of the big noisy flies here in the cottage. The ones that sound like a squadron of Hercules C130's flying round the house and make one heck of a mess when The Owner chases one with a rolled up newspaper and makes contact. The paper is unreadable afterwards, the room requires redecorating and The Owner has a kind of primeval radiance about him having hunted and caught his foe. Last night, after patrol, The Owner poured himself a glass of 'something particularly fine' and took his Sunday paper up to the upstairs living room and flopped down into his beanbag. I settled down in my rightful position, at his side, and Barney K9 settled at his feet. Soon, Barney K9 was snoring gently, The Owner was busy getting agitated about something in the paper and I was watching one of these C130 style flies noisily circling the room. It was a picture of blissful normality at the cottage. This fly made a couple of practice dive bombs at The Owner which elicited a mild grumble and irritated flick of his foot in its general direction whilst Barney K9 snoozed on. On its next bombing run it flew a little lower and The Owner flacked his foot in further irritation when all of a sudden Barney K9, still half asleep, launched forth in a magnificent display of K9 defensive instinct. However his instinct was slightly less in tune with his targeting as slobber and gnashers made contact with the first thing it could get to. The Owner leapt up and papers went everywhere, along with his glass and its contents, whilst clutching his toe in an exaggerated display of agony worthy of any premier league footballer. Barney K9 finished his waking up and seemed somewhat surprised to find The Owners foot in his mouth. 

Barney K9 took to his bed afterwards, I am unsure if that was just to keep out of The Owners way or whether he had picked up some lergy from The Owners foot. The Owner has been on the phone to the hospital demanding injections and has been into his emergency supply of bandages. He is now sporting a bandaged foot which will almost certainly mean a trip to the pub looking for sympathy from anyone daft enough to ask him what happened. He has now hacked a walking stick from the hedge and is looking for his keys. I hope he remembers which foot to hobble on for best effects when he gets to the pub.

Wincie Arachnoids Big Mistake

You understand how it is sometimes, if you listen to enough babble, you eventually start to understand the nonsense that is being babbled. It is that way with The Owner and I. So it is also with spiders, we live in an old cottage, so old in fact that I even wonder whether The Owner remembers it being built! It is not excessive but we do have more than a few little tiny spiders creeping around the place and The Owner spends his evenings chasing them with the ruddy Dyson with a kind of menacing smile about his face. Either that or it could be wind I guess. Anyway, there is this one spider, I call him Wincie, and he lives in the cupboard under the stairs and all night long he babbles on as he makes elaborate webs by shooting things out of his bottom. I have tried that too but I didn't manage to make a web. In fact it all got rather messy to be honest! Over recent weeks Wincie Arachnoid has been very busy in the cupboard and has babbled a lot, so I have gained some understanding of the language of spider. Last night he was particularly busy building webs outside of the cupboard and I immediately sensed trouble. Building a web across any door way was not good, but to build one across a doorway through which The Owner was likely to emerge at some point was not a good plan in my view. So I ignored Wincie Arachnoid's ramblings and settled down to sleep. in the wee small hours I could here disturbings upstairs which really did make them the wee small hours and down the stairs grumbled The Owner. This meant I was about to be disturbed having moved in the night and was laying across the bathroom door. Having not switched any lights on as normal he made his way across the living room towards the kitchen door..... and walked right into a spiders web! There was a great deal of roaring and grumbling as The Owner got more and more tangled up in the web left by Wincie Arachnoid. Over the top of this noise I could also hear Wincie Arachnoid squealing with delight "Wheee! I've caught a hoomun!!! I've caught a hoomun!!! As he descended from his hiding place on another length of stuff coming out of his bottom I could hear him squealing "Its dinner tonight!".

The Owner spent much of breakfast time cleaning Wincie Archnoid off the wall with his Mr Muscle and a cloth and little now remains of the drama of last night.

The Owner Has Been in The River

I have kept very quiet this week so far. It is for the best.

At the weekend The Owner and I went to see Owner's Dad and Diesel Dog Daughter. We set off early but we went a different way to normal. He seemed to know where we were going so I settled down for a kip in the back of the car. After a little while I opened one eye and noticed we were at a place called Warmonster, I think. At least that is what The Owner has been calling it ever since and then laughing very loudly, so it could very easily be one of his jokes I suspect. 

Well, when we got to Warmonster we pulled up outside this house and The Owner jumped out with great bonhomie and general good humour towards Young Lady Hoomun. I was evicted from my comfy corner in the back and The Owner started throwing great big concrete slabs in the back of the car. Well, he got five in and then stopped for a breather and I couldn't help but notice that his previous bonhomie was waning a little. Another five slabs and it had waned altogether and there were little beads of perspiration over his brow, so he closed the back door of the car and told his new found hoomun friend that he would return for the rest later. 

We hadn't been gone very far before there was a huge bang at the back of the car, dried mud seemed to fall off the car and everything lurched to a precarious standstill. The Owner was looking a bit peekie at this point as he fumbled around trying to make a call on a recalcitrant mobile phone. The phone was having none of it and we finished up in a phone box. Now we have a phone box in the village, but ours is full of books and I am forbidden from going in there, so this was all a bit new for me. I am forming the opinion that phone box doors are there only to try and cut you in half when you are least expecting it. 

The Owner's day appeared to be getting worse but fortunately none of it was my fault and indeed I was enjoying the role of pacifier and confidante as he ruffled my ears whilst he tried to work out what to do next. He said to me "We need to get these slabs off, Jack." Helloooo! Where is the 'we' suddenly arriving from in this scenario?? Then, inspiration struck, which unsurprisingly involved a pub! No more than 20 empty Bonio boxes laid end to end along the road and there just happened to be a pub, so he drove the car to the pub and went inside. He told the landlady hoomun, with a look so pitiful on his face that even I nearly felt sorry for him, that he really needed help and could he leave these slabs in her car park. So whilst I sat on the The Owners seat and watched, he unloaded all the slabs and the car looked a great deal better for it. 

It was a warm and sunny day and through the pub garden ran a clear bright stream with tables and chairs dotted around the grass on either side of it and I was not at all disappointed when The Owner noticed and said "Come on Jack, I think we deserve a pint!" By 'we' he meant 'he', or at least 'he' would be getting the pint and I would be allowed to sit and watch, but it was a nice day and I was enjoying the time not being in trouble. We sat there watching the ducks on the little river, the sun was warm on my face and The Owner found someone new to talk to who was blonde and female (need I say more), so he was feeling a little better about earlier troubles. After half an hour of pleasantness all round The Owner got up off the grass beside the river where we had been sitting, and bid the lady hoomun a good day saying "We need to get the car back home now." Had I mentioned that I was on a lead? Well I was, I was on my best pub lead, which is a bit longer than my normal lead and the excitement of being back on our way again was perhaps a bit too much. I jumped up quick and bounced around a lot, I went once around The Owner and his new lady hoomun friend and made for the car at great pace. This was the part where the day took a downward turn to be honest. I felt a bit of a tug on the end of the lead and when I turned around I could see that The Owner and his new Lady Hoomun Friend were a lot closer together than they appeared to want to be.....with my lead wrapped around their feet.... which seemed to have caused them both to topple into the stream. Lady Hoomun seemed a little displeased, to the point where I must conclude she is not really normal, as she doesn't seem to enjoy jumping in rivers. The Owner emerged from the depths of the river with long strips of river weed draped around his shoulders like a super hero's cape and a face like thunder. I got the distinct feeling that all the K9/Hoomun bonding that had gone on earlier was evaporating quickly and his mornings troubles were all somehow my fault. So, as I said earlier, it was best I kept a low profile before the Crimean crisis somehow became my fault too.

My Good Mood this Morning - and the Bacon

You know how some mornings you wake up feeling excited? You have no idea why, you just feel good about something? To be fair, it is not a feeling I have witnessed too often in The Owner and one that this morning he seems unlikely to share with me either. But this morning I awoke feeling gooooood! 

As the first light was filling the back passage where I sleep and Blackbird was on the shed roof outside giving it large, I heard the familiar creek of the floorboards above me as that behemoth known to many as 'The Owner' began to stir from his nights slumber. I hear him move across the upstairs living room and then start his descent of the stairs 1 - 2 - 3 - 456 Bugger!! This was going to be a bad day again, he has found the uneven step and is now in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. He eventually recovered enough to get himself to the kitchen and is walking with a limp, which I expect him to be milking for all it's worth with everyone he sees today. The routine, as normal, is for The Owner to let me out to do what K9's with breeding do best in the morning; go for a wee. Whilst he goes and puts the kettle on and makes unspeakable trouser trump noises I rush outside with great excitement looking for the first thing high enough to wee on. The first thing that I saw was a heap of bags, delivered for some DIY project for the weekend. I have now been educated! Bags of cement do not fare so well when wee'd upon it seems and The Owner was making the point very loudly. Education for the morning completed, and my breakfast eaten, I rush in to the rest of the cottage to see what The Owner is up to. The Owner's breakfast (very large bacon sandwich with extra rashers) was perched on the arm of his armchair and he was back out in the kitchen pouring his mug of English Breakfast tea. I also heard him take a Bonio out of my big Bonio box which was a cause of even more good feeling this morning. When K9's are feeling good and they hear Bonio buckets being opened they tend to jump around a lot, and I was doing well at it I thought. Unfortunately my tail made contact with his plate... which fell to the floor. Bacon went one way and bread the other. Well I thought I would help and clear it all up quickly..... The Owner doesn't appear to have any more bacon and seems to be having a strop about the whole matter. I think I'll be in the calf sheds this morning, laying in the sun, whilst I sleep off my bacon. I do seem to have a thirst now too, but I may not go back for water from my dish for an hour or two, just to be safe.

Magic in a Boot Room

Well, last night was a very strange affair and involved several new experiences for me which unsettled me rather a lot. The Owner jumped up in the middle of the afternoon, a practice normally only hastened by someone offering to buy him beer, grabbed his keys and said "Come on Jack we are going to see Granddad!" By 'Granddad' he means Owners Dad, but I am now used to that little ruse. So we jumped in the car and went a very long way, but nowhere near Swindon I was pleased to note. Although what was to follow was the kind of thing I have come to expect in Swindon. We arrived at a big place near where Owners Dad lives, I did recognise it, and The Owner put me on my posh lead and waved a cautionary finger at me and gave the usual list of things I am not allowed to do. No burping, farting, peeing up door posts, pooing on the carpets, robbing old ladies of their biscuits.... frankly the list seemed endless and I had got other things on my mind once he had mentioned robbing old ladies of their biscuits. Just inside the door sat an old lady who looked at me and said "So sorry dear, I have just eaten my last biscuit." Well I could see straight away that she was not going to be my friend. Then The Owner took one of MY Bonios out of his pocket and gave it to her! Well why would she have been wanting one of MY Bonios??? So, with a swift flick of the tail and a slob of the tongue we managed to return that to its rightful owner. With a stern look in my direction The Owner took me off towards these very shiny doors. I sat there for a while admiring myself in the reflection when suddenly the doors opened with no help from anyone and it was barely bigger than a boot room inside!! I walked in with The Owner in a very cautious manner because I was sure I had seen that floor move. I saw floors that move on a bus one day and that didn't fill me with a great deal of confidence either. The doors shut behind us and we were trapped inside when suddenly my tummy went upside down and I felt particularly strange. I think that was when the magic happened. When we went in that boot room there was a red carpet outside and an old lady sat at a seat with dribble on her hand. Moments later the doors opened again and the carpet was blue and the old lady had mysteriously disappeared!!! I never did see her again and I did check behind the cupboard she was sat beside. I will tell you more later, I think I heard Tesco Hoomun Yoof pull up in his van. I know there is going to be Bonies in one of those boxes and I am anxious that The Owner doesn't get any bright ideas that he is going to give them to some old lady in a gesture of largesse again today.

The Glass of Wine and the Wobbly Leg

I would just like to make it known here that my K9 belly button, through which I derived much of my very obvious breeding, is now only for my pleasure and general storage of fluff! Should it happen that The Owner decides to tickle the said K9 belly button, then he should expect me to react in a manner that involves the old K9 leg twitch thing going on in a particularly effusive manner. Should it happen that the said effusive K9 leg twitching might possibly make contact with The Owners full wine glass left casually on the carpet beside where he was sat at the time, and within range of my twitching leg, it is hardly my fault! Just saying.....