Scientist proves cats are criminals

The pioneering work of one brilliant scientist has at last isolated the gene that decides if a person is going to become a criminal, and found that it is a feline gene!

Professor Eman Puedam

The world of micro-biology has been rocked today by the news that a gene, believed previously to only be present in the DNA of cats, is the cause of all bad behaviour in humans. Professor Eman Puedam Fellow of the University of Brigadoon in Scotland (occasionally) said, “…cats and only cats are to blame for all the evil in the world. And they smell.” The British Prime Minister David Cameron called for calm as the nation took to the streets today to protest against these furry crooks; he said “I will of course look into these claims and if there is a case to be answered by cats and indeed cat-lovers, then answer it they shall.” He told the assembled press that anyone earning under the threshold of £26,000 p.a would not be allowed to keep a cat and would probably be imprisoned anyway for the good of the country.

In Washington, President Obama has announced that there is undeniable evidence that cats are being bred in Iran and exported to Hezbollah and others for use against Israel. He promised reprocussions if the UN cat inspectors are not allowed access to the cat breeding facilities in any country, in accordance with the guidelines set out in the Feline Non-Proliferation Treaty.

 

Meanwhile Vladimir Putin, who is widely suspected of once owning a cat while he was head of the KGB, has said that Russia will use their security council veto to prevent sanctions being imposed for alleged violations of international cat laws. The Chinese have, as yet, not made any comment but are believed to be monitoring the situation.

Bones’ apology and retraction

In the last blog on Bonesdiary you may have misread my words and thought that I described collies as ugly, this was something that was commented upon by my great friends the collies of the meadow. I would like to set the record straight if you don’t mind:

I don’t think collies are ugly, in fact I think they are a very beautiful breed, Lassie was a prime example. I have campaigned for the return to British television of the great show “One Man and his Dog” which is exclusively about border collies rounding up sheep; I only wish I was that talented. In fact you might remember, from an earlier post, that the first time I met a sheep I thought a cloud had grown legs!

I was referring to the ugly mugs on the less than purebred collie Xs that I live with. Chubby Jess being crossed with a blue whale and Skinny Alf being crossed with a racing snake. Neither of these morons could herd sheep: the poor sheep wouldn’t be able to keep up with Alf and Jess is so lazy she’d be better off herding tortoises.

See what I mean?
(I do love them both though, but don’t tell them eh? hehehehehehehe)

Can I walk with Bones?

Alf is going stir crazy and it serves him right. You read previously on Bones Diary about Alf and his poorly paw? Well, the vet advised that he only have short walks around the block for a few days and not go to the fields, this is torture for Alf who loves running more than anything. He shouldn’t have hurt it in the first place, it’s his own silly fault. But he has to follow the vet’s orders or it won’t get better.

I love it though, as I leave with mom to go across the fields he is in the window watching us with a sad expression on his ugly mug, I strut jauntily with my tail wagging and a huge grin on my face; just as we walk out of the drive and into the street I can’t resist looking back at him, the more distraught he looks the more I laugh, then I put my nose in the air, flick my tail like the cat Milly does and off I trot. I know it’s cruel but he’d do it to me if the roles were reversed.

When we get back he sits there all moody as I tell him that I’ve been running with his girlfriend Ellie, even if we haven’t seen her I still tell him that we have and that she hasn’t even noticed he’s not there. The truth is, she always looks for him and gets sad that he hasn’t turned up for a walk.

His paw is looking alot better and he should be coming out with us in the next day or two so my cruel fun will be at an end; you might think that Bones was well out of order but it’s payback for all the jokes and pranks he plays on me, payback for all the times the collies have ganged up on me in fights, thinking they can bully the baby of the family, something they quite often regret when I take it up a gear and go feral on them. They say every dog has his day, well this dog has had quite a few and counting!

 

Lazy Bones not putting the effort in

My friends, I wish to offer a complete Bones Diary apology to you all. I haven’t written anything all week; ok I’ve been a little bit busy what with all the chewing, sniffing and fighting I have to get through each day, but there is no excuse for my recent laziness when it come s to writing Bones Diary.

That done with, lets think what’s been happening since my last post. Right, well, Alf had to go to the vet, he hurt his paw. He has a habit of running into the kitchen and jumping up onto Jessies cage. It’s not usually a problem because there is a cover on it, but this time the cover was drawn back slightly and his left front paw caught on the bars. He let out a yelp and jumped back down; I rushed into the kitchen to see what had happened and found him holding his paw up, it was bleeding a little but it was nothing major. I grabbed his collar and led him into the living room while dad came down from upstairs to see what had happened.

It was only a nick and stopped bleeding almost immediately, mom cleaned it for him and he sat there feeling sorry for himself licking at it. He felt even more sorry for himself when me and Chubby Jess went for a walk without him because mom didn’t want dirt getting in it. Hehehehe see ya Alfie boy!

The next day he was growling at us if we went too near him, Jess went for a sniff to see if he was ok and he snapped at her! You should have seen her face, it was a picture! Her gums were showing as she got angry at him. I yelled “Chill out Cujo” to him but he didn’t find it funny. Dad had a look at him and asked for his paw which Alfie offered, he won’t snap at dad but he has a go at us? Dad said it was a bit angry looking, red and a little swollen so mom took him to see the vet. He hates going to the vet and barked the place down; I don’t know why he doesn’t like it, all the vets that work there are really nice and give you loads of fuss, plus we get a treat as a poorly present. One of the vets, a nice Polish lady, called me “Poochie”, not something I was happy with, I toild her next time she’d lose a finger, but she’s so nice to me I forgive her.

Alf’s ok now but he’s still banned from going down the fields for a few days. He’s only allowed a short walk around the block so he’s a bit grumpy, now with Jess being an old grumpy drawers I’ve got two of them moaning. What’s a dog to do to get some peace?

Bones not mentioned?

Well, I must say I am disgusted! That Cesar Millan thinks he’s the bees knees or something. I was looking at his website just to see what loony ideas he has about training us, it makes me laugh when the “dog botherer” comes out with this rubbish, he doesn’t realise it is us training them to give us treats hehehehe. Anyway I was looking at cesar’s way and noticed the dog awards for 2011 – ah recognition I truly deserve – but when I clicked on it I found to my horror that I wasn’t even mentioned! I know that you’re all reeling from your screens in shock after reading that but I’m not making it up, check it out for yourselves here. I’ve never been this insulted since I found out the film “The Lovely Bones” wasn’t my short but amazing life story.

Where was Bassa, Bongo or BOngO, Sage, Chancy, Flo, Rumpy, Angel and Chaos or any of my other friends who ooze talent? (sorry if you didn’t get a mention but time is tight, I don’t want dad catching me on his computer). Now I can understand Chubby Jess and Skinny Alf not getting a mention as they are stupid and pointless but forgetting MY contribution to canine advancement is almost criminal. If Cesar Millan is such a big noise I challenge him to try and make me “sit” – I’d have his throat out! I’d make him cry on tv in front of both his viewers…. I’m not bitter but you’d better watch out Millan, your days are numbered!!!

Bones on high

Its about time: that fake tree is gone and Bones’ racetrack is officially open for 2012. Free at last, free at last. I’ve been lapping at a tremendous rate and I think I’m back up around my pre-christmas times already. One added element that I’m quite pleased with is one of the chairs blew over in the garden during the recent high winds and dad hasn’t righted it yet, so it has created an extra obstacle. I find that if I go into it fast enough and dip my shoulder at just the right time, I can slingshot off it and head for the kitchen door; I am launching myself over the step from a bit further back now so I don’t lose momentum and don’t break my stride, like a hairy hurdler. I remember when I was that small I had to be lifted over that step.

After my run I’ve started getting up onto the windowsill where Alf likes to guard the house; now I’m a big lad I think  it’s only fair for me to help with home security and keep a watchful eye on the street. I climb up from the arm of the sofa and behind the curtain, problem is I can’t get back down. The curtain swings back and I can’t see the arm to step back down on. Alf jumps down but my legs are stumpy compared to his, so it’s a bit of a long drop. Dad tells me off when I get up there, he thinks I’m crazy enough to try jumping down but forget that. He comes and picks me up and puts me on the ground but its not long before I’m back up there; if I’m getting down then I’ll choose when.

Skinny Alf told me that dad doesn’t want me to jump because I could break all my legs and if that happens the vet will cut them all off and feed them to stray cats, then I’ll have to go on a cart when it’s time for a walk. I hope that’s not true, if I haven’t got any legs, how will I have a scratch?

Happy new year

I’ve been so lazy over the festive period that I have only posted a couple of times on Bonesdiary, sorry about that my friends. This morning mom has gone back to work, I bet when she left the house she wished she’d stayed in bed – it is hammering down with rain and the wind is blowing like it wants to move Britain that bit closer to the European mainland.

We didn’t get a walk this morning but I’m sure there will be one later; me and skinny Alf are up for it no mattrer what the weather but I doubt we’ll get her majesty chubby Jess out of the house, she’s not what you’d call an all-weather dog.

I didn’t enjoy new year’s eve, I was already tucked up in bed by midnight and only dad was still awake, it’s not a big celebration in our house. Dad had only drank a pint of shandy and mom had some fruit juice then went to bed about 10pm, she has to get up early to give Jess her insulin so she gets tired in the evening and never stops up late. Dad complains that people wish each other “Happy New Year” but don’t give a damn if the other person has a good year or not, he thinks people should be caring towards others all year round, not just pretend for 10 seconds or so on one night a year. Plus he can’t stand that song everyone sings – is it “old lads whine” or something like that? He doesn’t know what a lang is, or an ayne for that matter and he thinks Robert Burns should never have been published because nobody has a clue what he’s on about. Chill out dad!

Where was I? Oh yeah, so we’re all asleep at midnight and suddenly there’s the most almighty BANG!!!! Then another and another, it carried on and on like it was an artillery barrage, I thought it’ll be the infantry coming in next. Alf went and hunkered down behind dad’s chair and Jess got really terrified, like she used to when she was younger so I’m told. The noise didn’t bother me but I was worried about Jess, dad let me out of my cage and I  went running up to Jess and licked her face: “It’s ok Jessie, it’s just fireworks, it can’t hurt you.” Jess was wild-eyed and frantic,” I don’t like it – make it stop!” It was horrible to see her so scared like that. Eventually the noise faded but Jess was still upset, mom had come downstairs and Jess sat with her, panting and occasionally looking round the room fearfully like she was expecting more bangs at any minute.

Dad took Alfie outside for a widdle and I tagged along just to make sure he was ok. When we went into the garden we could hear alot of shouting from up the road, there was a fight going on. Some drunken bum was screaming about how he was going to knock some other drunken bum out, the other was screaming he was going to kill him, women were just screaming in general. Me and dad stood and listened for a while, then he looked down at me with a sad smile and said “Happy new year Bones” and went back in the house.