Bones singin the blues

I don’t care what any tone deaf skin says – I am a great singer! My songs are tuneful and melodic, with a haunting sound that stays with you when you hear it.

This morning mom got up at the crack of dawn as usual, she has so far to travel to work, and took us for a walk across the fields. Jess refused to go, as she sometimes does because she’s a lazy lump and a bit grouchy in the morning. Me and Alf are always willing to go for a walk at any time so we set off.

It was really nice this morning, grass wet with dew, the sun beaming its warming rays down to us as if it was saying “Good Morning!” and the autumnal air so crisp you could snap it over your knee. Alfie shot off at his usual lighting pace, I was happy trailing behind because he cleared a path for me as he arrowed through the longer grass. Alfie stops every so often to make sure he can see mom and to make sure I’m ok; he’s my big brother so I don’t mind him being over protective, but I can take care of myself.

Eventually we arrived home wet and panting.  Mom had put me in my playpen after a good drink of water, where I usually stay until dad drags his lazy butt out of his pit. I like my playpen (or pigpen as dad calls it) because my favourite blanket is in there for me to curl up on and there are some great toys for me to chew. It’s actually a child’s playpen so there’s plenty of room in there. After a walk I curl up on the blanket and catch some zzzz’s. Dad likes me in there when he’s upstairs because it stops me chewing everything I can get my jaws around.

Now Jess decided she wanted a walk, she’s more of a brat than me and I’m a puppy! Mom said she would take her along the lane at the back of the houses, as she didn’t really have time to go across the fields until she got back from work. Alf was jumping up and down like a Jack in the Box, “Me too, me too, take me too!” So big softy mom said Alf could tag along, a second morning walk!?!?!? That’s not fair, I was just settling down for a snooze until I realised what was happening, but by then it was too late. They were gone, I was alone….well apart from him upstairs but he would be fast asleep. I don’t like being the only one, I wanted Alf to be there while I slept. I felt really sad.

I decided that because I felt so low, I should put my feelings into a song. A sad song that one day would be on the radio and a million tears would well up in a million sets of eyes, a million hearts would ache with there own loneliness as they knew how I felt. It went something like this:

yipyipyipyipyipyipwwwwwhhhhhhhhooooooooooooo yipyipyipyipyipyipwwwwwhhhhhhhhooooooooooooo

The yips soared high and the whoos dipped low and the whole world stopped to listen; to it’s simplicity, to its beauty, to its glorious harmonic grandeur. A banging on the ceiling suggested that dad had heard and was joining in with percussion. That’s it dad, feel the song in your soul! I heard him come across the landing like a low rumble of thunder and realised he was coming to duet with me, he was very welcome. This was going to be amazing! I wondered what he was going to bring, would he join in the yipwhoos or harmonise with his own lyrics? I sang louder as he burst into the room, waiting for him to take his cue.

What he added to the mix, wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT NOISE? SHUT UP DOG!!!!” His words hung in the air like smoke, even after he left the room and thundered back upstairs. I sat in the pen and pondered it all: hmm, he’ll have to work on his scales if he wants to be my baritone.

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Bob Monkhouse lives on

A few years before I was born there lived a skin called Bob Monkhouse. He was a comedian, tv presenter, gameshow host and actor. He died on 29th December 2003. You’re probably wondering why I mention him, as I never knew him. The reason is something I overheard my dad say – Bob Monkhouse changed his life.

It was quite by accident, it shouldn’t have even happened, total chance. Dad wasn’t a particular fan or anything, he liked him I think because he found Mr Monkhouse’s one-liners very funny but as dad is not a fan of gameshows at all, he never watched the show in question: “Wipeout” I believe it was called.

Dad had been working in Birmingham but had the day off, the day his life changed. He was a bit bored so he decided to watch tv that afternoon. He couldn’t find anything he wanted to watch so he was flicking through the channels and getting more and more bored, more and more agitated; there were things on his mind and the worry they were causing was getting him down. The problem with dad was he worried too much; he worried about money, about mom, about his family, about his cat, about the weather, about what people thought of him, about whether they thought about him at all…. he worried about not having anything in particular to worry about. He was a big bag of stress and I honestly think it was killing him.

He flicked the button on the remote control once more before his finger moved towards the off switch, and up popped the last minute or so of “wipeout”, Mr Monkhouse was just wrapping up the show in his usual style with the delivery of one of his famous one-liners. This time though it wasn’t a joke he told, it was a piece of advice and dad heard it and went rigid. He sat there as Mr Monkhouse’s face disappeared and the credits rolled, he sat there while tasters of upcoming programmes were shown, he sat there as the next show started. He didn’t see it, he didn’t hear it, none of it registered. All that was going on in his head was the implications of what Mr Monkhouse had said.

From that day on my dad remembered that advice and chose to live by it, I told you it changed his life because he stopped worrying about everything and let the world take care of itself. He is a happy man now thanks to Mr Bob Monkhouse. Dad doesn’t know if it was an old saying that he had never heard before or if Mr Monkhouse had made it up himself, but Bob had said it and Bob had saved him. This is what he said, I hope it helps and comforts anyone who needs it:

“Worrying is like paying interest on something you may never own.”

Bob Monkhouse (1928-2003) R.I.P.

Alf at the speed of light

Me and dad watched a documentary on tv called “Faster than the speed of light?” (you can watch it here). Apparently some scientists in Italy have recorded neutrinos arriving from CERN in Switzerland sooner than expected, basically 60 nanoseconds or so, give or take the shake of a lamb’s tail, faster than lightspeed.

I know what you’re thinking: Bones is a clever pup, knowing all this science stuff; I’ve got to be honest, I might as well be looking in a bush as my grandad used to say, I don’t have the first clue what this is all about, just what they were saying on tv.

Apparently some dude with big hair and a dodgey accent, back in the day, wrote this theory down that explained….well…everything! Part of it had something to do with him saying that nothing can exceed the speed of light which travels at 299 792 458 m / s which is pretty quick by anyone’s reckoning. Now the important thing to remember is – if this rule has been broken then it calls into question everything that we understand and believe about the physical universe! That is a bit heavy for the puppy brain to take in folks. That would make time travel possible…..which means I could go back in time and fight a dinosaur or something. Brilliant! Or maybe bite Hitler or Napoleon on the bum…..even better!!!!

Alfie told me that he can run faster than the speed of light; no way, he’s quick but not that quick. He said he could run to the bottom of the garden and back so fast I wouldn’t realise he was gone. I said “Prove it!” He said “There you go, do you want to see it again?” Wow, I really didn’t see him move.

He told me he doesn’t like to go that fast, I asked him why:

Alf: Because time slows down as you approach lightspeed.

Me: So?

Alf: So, you thick pup, I have to wait longer before I get my dinner.

Me: Hmm, makes sense I suppose.

Alf: There’s also the problem of stopping distance.

Me: How far is that?

Alf: About three and a half weeks….

I don’t understand why Alf and Jess seemed to find the whole thing so funny.

Walks with Alfie and Ellie

I have barked about Alfie having a girlfriend called Ellie in the past as you know, I would like to submit the following as evidence:

 

 

 

 

 

 

You’ll recognise me, I’m the one at the back who can’t keep up for laughing. The picture was taken just as I was singing my favourite rhyme: “Alfie and Ellie sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.” That one always annoys Alfie and if he keeps growling, I keep singing. He says the same thing about me and Riya, but we’re just friends – honest we are.

The balance of power

I have to hold my paws up and admit it, that hellcat Raffles is still the big noise upstairs. Emboldened by my coup the other day when I ate his food from his bowl right under his imperious nose, I decided to go upstairs as there were still rooms I had yet to investigate. As expected I reached the top without challenge and all was quiet on the landing, perhaps too quiet. I strolled into one of the bedrooms and had a sniff round, looking for mischief to get into. I wasn’t paying attention until I heard a frightening hiss behind me. I spun around and blocking my exit was His Evilness, ambush!!! It’s funny but he seemed alot bigger somehow. His green eyes were like slits as he regarded me like….well, like a huge cat would regard a small puppy who was about to get his eyes removed by said huge cat.
A low growl began emanating from the dark tunnel of a thoat I could imagine myself disappearing down and I started to wish I hadn’t eaten his dinner; I was on the alternative menu. I had to think and quickly: fight or flight? I looked around the room but he had me backed into a corner, there was no getting around him and to be honest the thought of running away was one that was alien to me, I’m a terrier for heaven’s sake! I will fight! The problem was, if I was to fight then I would need room to work with, I couldn’t go head on, he was too big and too strong and those claws would rip a hole in me. But there was no room, I was trapped and muscled into a corner by a bigger, heavier and stronger opponent who knew exactly how to beat me, what was I going to do? My mouth was that dry I couldn’t even shout for Alfie.
I could feel my tail slowly going down between my legs and an involuntary shudder wrack my body; Raffles saw it too and grinned. He had heard dad go out and knew there wouldn’t be a rescue from him. He finally decided the end had come for me and raised himself onto all four paws and arched his back, his masses of ginger fur stood on end which made him look even bigger. This was it. I stood as tall as I could and got ready, if I could just avoid the first strike of that gigantic paw and maybe clamp on somewhere, maybe…….but it was no good, whatever scenario I played out in my mind there was only one conclusion – I was finished. I wasn’t going to cry even though I admit I felt like it, I wasn’t going to give the ugly brute the satisfaction. I gathered myself and decided to charge – death or glory!
As the massive white paw raised above my head looked as though it was about to crash down and I tensed for my final suicidal rush a figure appeared in te doorway: an angel had appeared and would rescue me! Nearly, it was mom. “Ok you two, that’s enough. Come on Bones, back down stairs.” I have never seen a more disappointed expression on any face. Raffles was absolutely devastated, he had obviously worked out the perfect plan of ambush and thought nothing would stop him from having his revenge. I was growling and yelling at him, telling him it wasn’t over yet and I was going to get him and he didn’t know how lucky he was.
Mom took me downstairs and put me down in the kitchen, I went into the back garden and breathed deeply of the crisp october air. I smelled familiar neighbourhood smells and cocked my leg on my favourite rock. I have never felt more alive than in that moment.

Not a bang but a whimper

I must admit that I am glad I started doing this blog, I love all the comments from my new friends all around the world. I also really enjoy reading other blogs, there is so much talent out there.

Although I have quite a few people following my blog, I would like to get more; could any of you more experienced bloggers offer a poor pup like me tips on expanding my readership? I would be most grateful for any help you can pass on. I imagined word of my talent would spread like nits in a classroom and tens of thousands of loyal Bones followers would be hanging on to my every bark. It hasn’t worked out like that yet, but I’ll keep tapping away.

Bones is king of the hill

There, I’ve done it just like I said I would, have no doubt – Bones is pure drum n bass !!!!!!!!!

Yesterday I climbed the stairs all the way to the top. Raffles turned up just as I reached the landing, you should have seen his stupid cat face, it was so funny. He hissed and spat at me but I just turned my back to him, flicked my tail like I’ve seen Milly do it and strolled into the bedroom. He was furious but there was nothing he could do because dad was there and said, “forget it Raff.” He wanted to take a swipe at me but knew he couldn’t get me without a fight, and by that time dad would split it up and tell us both off.

He followed me around the bed hissing like it was going to make a difference to me. I went into the bathroom to take a look, I still can’t believe they use litter trays, how lazy not to go outside to do their business? I didn’t particularly like the smell of the dirty cats so I went for a wander to look at the other rooms. By this time Raffles was on the bed getting ready to jump on me, I’m sure if he had then I would be as flat as a furry pancake. Milly had come out of another room to see what the noise was about, she didn’t look too happy to see me either; I was in severe danger of getting double-teamed here. I heard Alf come to the bottom of the stairs and start growling, he knew what was going on and headed up the stairs in a hurry to perform some kind of rescue mission, which is brave because he is afraid of Raffles. Just when it was about to turn into a major incident dad stepped in and picked me up. He took me down stairs and told Alfie, who was halfway to the top, to get back down too. The cats sat at the top of the stairs glaring down, how dare that little puppy come into our kingdom?

BUT! It doesn’t end there. Oh no…..as soon as dad went back to his desk, and the cats dispersed, I set off again up the wooden hill. The windbag cats weren’t going to stop me, I’m not scared of them. I got to the top and Raffles was sitting there in absolute stunned silence, he couldn’t believe that I’d try it again. He was sat by their food bowls making a low whiney/growly sound in his throat. I ignored him and walked up to the cat bowls and ate the lot! IN YOUR FACE FAT RAFFLES!!!!!!

The dumb cat just had no idea what to do, he wouldn’t have looked more shocked than if I’d gone up and cocked my leg on him…..now there was an idea……but dad noticed me there again, rushed over, grabbed me and took me back downstairs just as Raffles shook himself out of his stupor, I reckon another 5 seconds and the battle would have commenced.

Dad gave me a stern telling off but I wasn’t bothered or listening – I had been there and done it, I had conquered Everest, I had been to the moon and back, I had turned base metal into gold – I had shown Raffles who was king of the hill and he could kiss my furry rump! I was sure the other dogs would look at me in awe like some kind of hero, but Alfie growled at me not to be so stupid again and Jess rolled her eyes and called me an idiot as they both walked away.

They’re soooooo jealous.