Deodorant for dogs

Hiya folks, Bones here.

As you know, or may surmise, I’m a dedicated sniffer as most dogs are, but I’m confused about why skins spray stinky stuff called deodorant and perfume on themselves in an effort to cover their scent. Why would you want to mask your scent? It’s as interesting and as individual as ours.

Is it because you have a natural scent that is totally disgusting? It can’t be as bad as perfume and other fake scents you spray all over yourselves. It’s nasty, choking stuff.

Next question – why do the deodorants for men and women smell different? Male skins’ scents are nasty compared to that of the female, she has nice flowery smells. I think it’s because men are expected to smell bad. I can imagine the conversation in the deodorant factory lab, where they are trying to come up with new scents:

“What do you think of this one?”

“Phew, don’t smell like wild roses to me.”

“Ok, we’ll put ‘For Men’ on the label.”

“But it stinks bad!”

“Well, let’s market it as ‘Sport For Men’…..”

Why don’t they have deodorant for dogs? Well they do but it’s for deodorising a room rather than lifting our legs and spraying our pits. So basically, dogs have deodorant for where we’ve been while skins have it for where they’re going.

Exercise for dad

You skins don’t realise just how helpful a dog like myself can be. This morning dad was eating breakfast while watching some league cup highlights he’d recorded from last night, Alf was in his favourite place on the windowsill, guarding the house. Jess and I were locked in a battle to the death and we were loving every minute of it.

Eventually dad got a bit annoyed because we were making so much noise while he was watching football (but really because his team were knocked out of the competition) and he told us to behave; obviously we ignored him. He said we’d got until the count of 3 then he was going to get up. We looked at him for a second, stupid skin – dogs can’t count – then carried on fighting. “1….2….3 – right then!” He got out of his chair with a growl and Alf yelled “Get ’em dad!” Jess did her usual trick of sitting down and smiling sheepishly (shameful thing to do if you’re a sheepdog) and of course dad’s a big softy for that, but I tried to do a runner, hard to do when you’re laughing that hard but skins aren’t that quick and I was around him, under the coffee table and out the door before he could catch me.

I heard him heading back to his chair so I ran back into the living room. He turned and made a grab for my collar but again my superior reflexes kept me out of reach and I lapped the room while he shook his fist and threatenened to have my hide when he caught me, but dad you ain’t gonna catch me!

This time he was determined and followed me through the hall to the kitchen; if I go through the kitchen into the garden he’s got no chance…..ooops, back door’s shut. I turned around and there he was, towering over me like a huge towering thing. He lurched forward, “Gotcha, you little shite!” I went straight at him, feinted to the left then dodged right and I was past him. He turned and followed me into the hall again, his breath coming in gasps as he lumbered along behind me like an angry ogre.

I was already back in the living room again and gleefully lapping the coffee table like a furry olympian. Jess had hopped up onto the  settee, her and Alf yelling abuse at us both. Hapless dad filled the doorway, his eyes burning with hellfire, every sinew shaking. “BONES!!! STOP RIGHT THERE!” he thundered. Erm…

I paused only to see what his next move would be; he took a step forward and I shot around the back of the table once again. This was getting too easy, he was slowing down, if he slowed any more his engine would surely stall. I was getting too cocky by this point and darted towards him, intending to peel off at the last second. As I approached he started bending to grab my collar, the hand like a bulldozer’s shovel coming closer. I dipped a shoulder and went to change direction but disaster! The wood floor below me was too slippy and my paws couldn’t gain purchase. I was like Wile E. Coyote after running off a cliff: no matter how quickly my legs moved, I wasn’t going anywhere. The massive claw descended like a golden eagle’s taking a lamb and my collar was snared. Dad was breathing like Darth Vader with asthma by this time and I was still chuckling as I was led on the walk of shame back to my play pen.

Locked up now, I tried to look all sad and cute but I couldn’t hold it and just started laughing again. He wagged his finger at me but the words wouldn’t form between gasps for breath. He stumbled off to watch the rest of the football, he cast an icy glare at Jess and Alf and they were quiet – the creeps!

Dad should be grateful, that was probably the most exercise he’s had since…well….the last time he tried to catch me, I suppose. I’m only thinking of his health and well-being…….honest!  ; )

Sick puppy

I don’t know what I ate across the fields yesterday but I feel so rotten. I think I overdid it on the grass because I brought up a grassy knoll on the rug when I got home.

I didn’t eat my dinner yesterday, which mom was worried about because I love my food, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to fight the other two, I just sat there feeling sorry for myself. Jess came and nudged me with her nose to see if I was ok, but I just hadn’t got the energy to do anything.

Dad picked me up and I fell asleep on his lap. They were watching “The Walking Dead” on tv so when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a zombie shuffling towards me! I wasn’t scared even though I’d never seen a zombie before, I growled a warning to it and everyone laughed. I was still half-asleep, I didn’t know it was on tv! Give me a break, I’m ill.

This morning I feel a little better, I managed a bit of my breakfast but as soon as dad left the room, the disgusting whale Jess charged over and stuck her fat face in my bowl, I grabbed her ear and pulled and a fight ensued: I must be feeling better.

I’ll get some sleep and I should be fit for a walk this afternoon, I didn’t go out this morning because my belly was playing me up a bit. I’ll be fine later though, perhaps I should lay off eating everything I can get in my mouth for a while. On that subject, every evening my dad goes into the back garden on slug patrol. He makes sure there are no slugs or snails around that we might eat, he says he wants to protect us from someone called Lungworm; I don’t know who Lungworm is but he sounds like a bit of a nasty character, so keep your dogs safe and watch out for this guy Lungworm – check this link out for more info:

Why can’t Bones drive?

I realise I’ve been quiet over the last few days and I apologise but there’s been things happening. Yesterday it was mom’s birthday, she was ** years old….can you imagine that? ** years old? That’s like almost ***! Dad took her out somewhere, grumbling to himself as usual I suppose, but he’s always grumbling about something. I think he was a bit disappointed that some stuff ordered as a present hadn’t turned up, so he went out and got her some flowers. Haha, he must have looked so silly walking along holding flowers like a big girl!

On saturday dad went out for the day with his friends, a group of ne’er-do-wells and hooligans the like of which even the devil wouldn’t cast his net for. From what I can gather, one day every year is “Karting Day”,  a day that dad gets so excited about he hardly sleeps the night before. Apparently these ruffians get together and drive go-karts like maniacs around a track just outside Tamworth, then it’s off to the pub for a few beers, then to another pub for food (that’s the main reason I want to join in), before away back to the first pub where they get drunk, argue about the result of the race and sing raucously and tunelessly along with the jukebox.

Dad no longer takes part in the race like he used to, but turns up to watch anyway – he says its almost as much fun watching the others. He also doesn’t drink as much as when he was younger so he tries to take it easy, but the other dogs told me he always ends up getting picked up by mom and coming home with a silly grin on his face. This time was no different, he came in looking like he’d been pulled through a hedge, grinning from ear-to-ear. He gave us dogs loads and loads of fuss, telling us we were the best dogs in the world and he’d never let anything happen to us and do we know how much he loves us? I’ve never seen him after he’s been drinking before because it’s only twice a year he does it – karting day and the xmas party – but it was hilarious.

I hope when I’m old enough dad will take me with him, I could take a bowl for the beer and sing along with the lads. Alf said dogs can’t drive but I think he’s wrong, and I’m going to prove it just as soon as my paws can reach the pedals.


A couple more photos for the ladies…

It seems that every time I post a photo of myself I get called adorable and cute and sweet etc. Well as you know, I’m a very modest little dog, shy and retiring (NOT!!!!) but I wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone by not showing an occasional shot. I’m including an extra couple of pics of Alfie who doesn’t want to be left out; unfortunately Jess is a funny old mare who refuses to have her picture taken, probably break the camera anyway!









Great photos from Cesar Millan

Check out these amazing photos from Cesar Millan the dog whisperer’s website:

Altogether now……aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Back to where the legend began

I’m excited, dad has told me that in the next week or two he’s going to take me back to the place i was born, to visit my family; my other family…my canine family. I`ll get to see my real mommy and daddy and granny and great granny. Obviously i know my two brothers have gone to live in other places and i do still miss them, but seeing my parents again is just…just…WOW!!!!!!!!!! I cant wait. Dad said he promised the nice lady, who my family live with, that he’d take me to visit so she could see what a top dog I’ve become, she won’t be disappointed.
Its a shame that Jessie the elephant and Alfie the racing snake dont have a family to visit, but they`ve got me and each other and they’ve got mom and dad who love us all…oh and the cats, almost forgot about those two, cats are a complete waste of fur if you ask me.

Lazy dog sunday

After a hard morning’s fighting with the stinking hounds from hell known as Jessie and Alfie, plus two long and strenuous runs around the fields, there comes a time when a dog has to relax. Yesterday was a lazy sunday afternoon, dad was swearing at the football on tv, mom was upstairs keeping out of the way, she thinks football is rubbish but what do girls know?

Jess and Alf had finally given up and I was victorious again. I tried to keep awake and watch the footy with dad but it all got too much and in the end I drifted off. Dad took some photos of us on his phone which I’ll share with you:

You can only get a pic of Jess if she's asleep.

Come on Alf, one last scrap?

I'll just close my eyes for a minute...zzzzz

I’m really upset, I mean really, really sad. I thought skins were a dog’s best friend but apparently I was wrong.

I was checking in on my friend in Karachi called Marshy, I hadn’t been to visit his mom’s blog for a while so I had a quick look this morning. The last post on there was from August 26th and I wanted to share it because it made me angry and upset; I wonder why this is allowed to continue. There is a video clip on it from Bulgaria where they are mistreating a dog by putting it in a twisted rope and making it spin. It’s horrible. I want to bite all of them.

I’m sorry this post isn’t my usual happy, bouncey stuff but this has put me in a bad mood.

Bones’ schedule

For those of you who are wondering what a regular day is like for your favorite Border Terrier I’ve written the following:

5am Only on a weekday do I get up this early because this is what time mom gets up for work. I sleep in an indoor kennel, which is a cage and I love it because it’s warm and comfortable. Dad put a blanket over it so it’s like a cave, somewhere that’s all mine. Jess has one of her own in the kitchen, although it’s alot bigger than mine because she’s a huge troll. Alf doesn’t like indoor kennels and prefers to sleep on the sofa.

Mom releases the beasts and me into the garden for our first widdle of the day. When she’s dressed we head out for our morning walk. Sometimes Jess refuses to come with us if it even looks like rain, she goes back to bed – her loss. We head down to the fields and run around like maniacs. When we get home I go back into my playpen until dad gets up.

8am Dad finally drags his lazy butt out of his pit and lets me back out into the garden with the dopey dogs after copious amounts of fuss. He goes to his computer after breakfast and that’s the last we hear from him until lunch. We run around the garden or crash out on the kitchen floor or have a fight, every dog for themselves. There’s two big bowls of water and plenty of toys so we’re happy.

12.30pm We get a treat each and more fuss and perhaps a ball game in the garden. He puts me back in my kennel for a sleep. The other dogs usually sleep in the afternoon too.

2.30pm Dad lets us out into the garden again and we run around for a bit.

4pm Mom is usually back from work by now, we always know which car is hers by the sound of the engine, Alf and me start barking and dad yells “shut up”. Mom gets changed and we’re off across the fields again. Other dogs get their walks around this time so we all meet up and go running in a pack while the skins walk together and moan about stuff that isn’t really all that important.

If it’s a warm day we go charging into the pond. Alf runs like he’s in the dog olympics and dives like a mad salmon into the water, with his girlfriend Ellie usually with him, swimming around. Jess paddles and sometimes sits in the shallows like she’s cooling her immense backside. I love a good paddle and splash and have just tried my first little swim, which was absolutely fantastic, I’ll swim everytime from now on.

6pm is feeding time! We all eat in different rooms because we try to steal food from each other’s bowls. Have you ever noticed how much better food tastes when you’re eating from someone else’s bowl? This always causes a ruck so we’re kept apart. After eating we go into the garden for ablu…..ablutio…..poos and widdles.

6.30pm The skins sit down to eat, I get put in my playpen because I try to steal food from them. Skins are strange like that, I’ve told them they are very welcome to try and take food from my bowl, but they don’t seem interested.

After they eat the skins like to watch TV together, Alf and Jess stretch out and have a doze, I go to dad for fuss or mainly to chew his slipper/sleeve/hand/ear. Eventually he gets tired and puts me in my cage so I can watch TV with them without being “a little bleeder” as dad says.

9pm Mom goes off to bed if its a week night and dad watches a film or some sport he’s recorded. He likes watching rugby and cricket, but most of all he loves watching football and boxing. When he watches football he gets a bit excited and sometimes shouts at the TV; he often questions the parentage of the referee, which is hardly any of his business! It’s worse when he watches boxing, he holds his hands up in a guard and throws punches, saying things like “…keep your right up when you jab….combinations, combinations…..go downstairs….” I don’t know what he’s talking about but it is soooo funny to watch. He ends up more tired than the fighters.

10-11pm I go out for a last widdle before bed time. Jess disappears into her cage and dad pulls the blanket down so it’s nice and cosy for her. Alf jumps on the sofa and shuts his eyes almost straight away and then dad puts me away in my cage. I’m glad I’m back in my cage, I feel warm and comfortable and I am so tired. I’m looking forward to going for a walk in the morning, maybe I’ll see Riya in the afternoon. It’s going to be another great day tomorrow, I just know it. So tired now, I go to sleep and dream of long grass and muddy puddles.