I’ve been tagged

I’ve been tagged by my friend Sage I’m not sure I know what I’m doing but I think it involves answering these questions then tagging some of my other friends; so here goes:

1)  Describe yourself in 7 words. Mad, bad and dangerous to know. Oh hang on that’s just 6…erm…ok cute too.

2) What keeps you up at night? My brother Alfie snores!

3) Who would you like to be? Are you kidding? There is nobody I’d like to be more than who I am – life is good being Bones.

4)  What are you wearing right now? Just the fur and my new collar, I got out of having to wear a coat this winter, ain’t gonna start now.

5)  What scares you? ahhhhhahahahahahahahaha – oh please, don’t make me laugh.

6) The best and worst of blogging. The best is meeting new friends and reading about their day. The worst is not being able to do more in case my dad finds out I’ve been using his precious computer.

7) The last website I visited. That would be http://sagechronicles.wordpress.com/

8) What is one thing I would change about myself. I’d be slightly more brilliant and slightly less modest. hehehehe

9) Slankets yes or no. Not sure what a slanket is, but if I can’t eat it or fight it then I’m not interested anyway.

10) Tell us something about the dog that tagged you. Sage is a really cool Kelpie from Oregon, I’m not sure where that is but it’s probably on the far side of the furthest field, maybe one day I’ll slip under the hedge over there and see if I can find Oregon.

Here are the sites I’ve tagged, they’re the first 8 that wished me happy birthday the other day. If they have been tagged already by someone else then they needn’t worry about it, and anyone I haven’t tagged well I’m sorry, can’t tag you all.

Confessions of an apple junkie

Marina Kanavaki

Bassa’s Blog

Fabulous Flo

Rumpydog

Bongo

Chancy the gardener

Pia Valentin Poetry

 

 

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A puppy no more

Yesterday was an amazing day for your little Bones. Mom was off work and she and dad were acting a little strange, nothing amazing about that – skins are strange. Anyway, I was minding my own business trying to decide what mischief to get into first when dad came in and put a lead on me. What’s he up to? I thought, its not walk time and he doesn’t usually take me anyway. I was taken outside and put in the car; ahh we must be going to the vets.

As it turned out it wasn’t the vets it was the pet supermarket, even better, I always get fuss and treats off the staff and nobody’s going to stick a needle in me – brilliant! We walked in and sure enough the man by the till started fussing me and scratching behind my ears; he asked my dad if it was ok to give me a treat, dad said “sure, just count your fingers afterwards.” Cheeky bugger! We strolled down the aisles, dad occasionally pulling me away from stuff I wanted to pull off the shelves, he called me a shoplifter – now I’m a pretty strong dog but I seriously doubt I could lift a shop! We got down to where the leads and collars are kept and he put a collar around my neck to try it for size. The one I had was ok, red leather with studs, but this one was something else: black leather with little silvery bones  on it and a silver bone pendant. It could have been made for me. “Can I have it dad, really?” Dad didn’t reply but carried on walking with it in his hand so that must be a yes. We stopped by the toys and dad looked down at me: “Which one do you like boy?” I was getting excited now and proved it by widdling up the stand which dad hissed at me for. Which toy? There were so many to choose from but I liked the look of a nylabone with bumps and ribbing that would be great to chew. I stopped by it and looked up:

– This one please dad.

– Which one Bones.

– This one, the nylabone.

– There’s plenty to choose from isn’t there lil’ man?

– There is indeed dad but I’ve chosen this one, please stop annoying me and take it down from there.

– Made your mind up?

– Are you taking the…

He reached out and took the nylabone that I was after, “how about this one?” Finally! We carried on and he got some other things which I was looking forward to getting hold of such as little marrowbone biscuits and some fantastic tripe sticks, then we went to pay.

After getting home he called the other dogs and mom into the kitchen, mom and dad were looking at me in a peculiar way, sort of grinning like professional fools. Soooo…..? Then all of a sudden they burst into a song, made me jump I can tell you. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR BONESEYYYYYYY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUU.” It’s my birthday? I didn’t know that, apparently I’m one year old. I stood on my hind legs and received the copious amounts of fuss I believed I was entitled to. Mom put my new collar around my neck and I felt so proud of it I thought I’d burst. I couldn’t wait to get down the fields and show my friends. Dad handed me my new toy which I ran out of the room with to go and play but then remembered there were tripe sticks so I spun around and went back. Sure enough the tripe sticks were ready to be served, they stink to high heaven but they are so tasty. They’d even got me a birthday card with one corner chewed off and a little poem about a puppy inside which dad read out to me; “do you mind dad? I’m in the middle of a tripe stick, anymore gushy stuff and I might be sick!”

One year old, it seems like such a huge amount of time that I can’t even comprehend what it must be like to be as ancient as Jess. Does this mean I’m no londer a puppy? I should start being more responsible, better behaved, stop looking for fights, stop chewing furniture…..or maybe I’ll save all that for when I’m two. hehehehe

 

The best toy of all

I’ve always enjoyed attacking my dad, not in a nasty way of course, just jumping on his slippers or pulling the bottom of his trouser legs. Anyway my repeated attacks coupled with regular wear and tear from his huge clodhopper feet meant that my mom went out and bought him new slippers. “There’s nothing wrong with my slippers” whined my ever-complaining dad, “They’re comfortable.” Mom looked down at them and sighed, “They could walk on their own by now!”

Later that day she came back with his new slippers and he reluctantly put them on, “Do they fit ok?” mom enquired. “I suppose,” mumbled dad, although you could tell he liked them straight away. “Give me your old ones and I’ll throw them in the dustbin where they belong.” Dad handed her one slipper, “where’s the other one?” she demanded. Dad looked around then back at her, “It’s gone, I’ll look for it later.” Off mom went to dispose of the toxic footwear.

When she left the room dad reached into the back of his waistband and pulled out the other old slipper; I was sat down at his feet looking up at him after my initial sniff told me I didn’t particularly like these new slippers, he grinned down at me and said, “saved this for you boy” and threw it across the room. CHAAAAAAARGE!!!!!! I grabbed the slipper and took it straight out into the garden, I lapped the garden a couple of times then came back in through the kitchen, into the hall and started lapping the coffee table. Alf was on the windowsill and woke up to shout encouragement. Jess made a grab for my prize but she’s so slow she came nowhere near it. I stopped running and shook it and shook it, growling through clenched teeth. I tossed it into the air and it landed on my head, so I shook it some more.

Dad was sat down watching TV so I took the slipper to him and we had a tug-of war, after a a couple of minutes he got it off me but I was already turned and into my stride by the time he threw it. I took it back to him and we played tug again. Just then mom came into the room and caught us playing with the supposedly lost slipper, we both stopped and looked round at her: “Boys!” she said with an air of exasperation and left the room, Jess hauled her big butt off the floor and followed mom, looking back at us trying to recreate the same expression. Me and dad watched them go, looked at each other then started wrestling with the slipper again.

Do we all look so insane when we swim?

PhotoBotos.com

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“Ruff Water” – Los Angeles, CA – Seth Casteel – Featured Photographer

Ok, today’s post might be a bit late because these photos have been circulating around the internet like crazy and crashing Seth’s webpage with boatloads of hits. He has a dozen or so photos that will make you smile even if you are a cat person.   So after you get a taste of the really unique images below head on over to his website at www.littlefriendsphoto.com for the full course.  By the way,  Seth isn’t just a talented photographer, but he is a really cool guy also.  He volunteer’s his talents to take photos of shelter pets increasing their chances of adoption. Great work Seth!  His company is based out of LA and Chicago, but is available nationwide.  To keep tabs on his latest plans keep in touch with him at www.facebook.com/LittleFriendsPhoto.

Now that you…

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STOP – wait a minute Mr Postman!

For many years postmen around the world have complained about being the victims of dog bites, now I know why – because they BLOODY WELL DESERVE IT!!!!

I waited very patiently yesterday for the postman to arrive with what promised to be a bumper batch of valentine cards for the world’s hottest Border Terrier (what do you mean “who’s that?” It’s me!). I heard Alf call out from the  windowsill guard post that the postman was approaching so I skipped into the hallway; I sat back from below the letterbox, I didn’t want to be crushed by the avalanche of cards I was expecting. The letterbox opened and onto the floor fell one envelope clearly marked with the name of an electricity company. I was a little surprised but waited for the rest of the delivery, “He must be struggling to get them all out of his bag,” I confided in Jess as she lumbered past on the way to have her latest sleep. “Whatever,” she mumbled yawning. He’s taking his time though, “Come on postie,” I called out.

“He’s gone,” said Alf.

“Yeah right, he’s just outside, it must be a load of cards, that’s all.” I carried on watching the letterbox.

“He’s two doors down now Bones.” Alf must be lying.

But the letterbox didn’t open again. Dad came past and picked up the electricity bill just as I had resolved to chew it up, he scratched my ear. “You ok boy?” He asked me, obviously as worried as I was about the lack of envelopes addressed to Bones. I looked up at him and said “Dad I think the postman has made a mistake, I was expecting at least 500 valentines cards and none of them have arrived, do me a favour and catch him up, see if he’s got them at the bottom of his bag?” I don’t think he understood me as he said “good lad” and disappeared into the kitchen, following the now snoring Jess. Stupid skins.

I went into the living room to talk to Alfie, “What do you reckon happened Alf? How could he have made such a mistake?”

“No mistake stumpy, there just weren’t any cards for you.”

“Don’t be daft, course there were. Why wouldn’t there be?”

“Cos you’ve got a face like a monkey?” By this time Alf had rolled onto his back and was laughing his thick head off. He soon stopped laughing when , with a growl, I clamped onto his leg.

I don’t know why I didn’t get any cards, maybe the postman is incompetent, maybe it’s a conspiracy and the postman threw them away because all postmen hate dogs, or maybe nobody loves me afterall.

No such thing as monsters

I found this video clip and thought you might like it. It supposedly shows the legendary Icelandic beastie called the Lagarfljotsormurinn or Lagarfljots Worm, their version of the Loch Ness Monster. Check it out…

Now I’m not one to scare easy, Border Terriers are big-hearted little fellas, but this looks a bit creepy. I think maybe if it does exist and this is real video footage of a monster then it should stay in Iceland for its own good, because if it turns up in our pond down the fields then it’s “‘avin’ it” as they say around here. I’m the one and only little monster in this town pal!!!!

Let me know if any of you have local tales of monsters in your area; indeed if you have a monster problem that needs sorting out then let me know – have teeth, will travel.

Wake up dad

Some of you will remember the conversation that me and dad had, which I blogged about previously in Bones’ Diary under the headline Break Down in Communication ,which illustrated how utterly incapable skins are of understanding what we are trying to convey. Well I’d like to follow that with another conversation this morning.

It was still dark and mom had gone out to work, she had to go out early so we didn’t get a walk this morning so I was a little grumpy, even though she’d promised us an extra long walk later. The immense Jess was crashed out in her cage, snoring in a very un-ladylike manner; the slightly built Alf was on the settee, also asleep and probably dreaming about his girlfriend Ellie. I was in my playpen at the bottom of the stairs, curled up on my favourite blanket and just dozing off when I felt like someone was watching me. I opened one eye and couldn’t see anyone there so I lifted my head and looked all around, but still nothing. I laid my head back down but like an itch you can’t scratch, I could still feel eyes on me. I stood up and looked up the stairs and sure enough there was the skinny cat Milly staring at me. I growled low in my throat as I told her it was rude to stare but she didn’t respond. That damned cat has never said a word to me since I came to live here, she thinks she is so superior! I don’t lke anyone staring at me, I’m just funny like that, it’s an uncomfortable feeling.

Milly was really starting to annoy me, I said “If you don’t pack it in I’m going to tell dad, still no reaction. Then an evil and ugly face pushed its way through the bannisters and Raffles started looking at me too. I couldn’t believe it: two stupid cats? Now it’s bad enough with Milly staring at me but she’s never really done anything across me, but you all know I’ve got a less than cordial relationship with the evil one.

I was getting angry now, “You got something to say cat, come down here and say it!” I growled. No reaction. “Right, that’s it – I’m telling dad!” They looked at each other and I thought I saw Raffles grin.

“Dad.” There was no reply from upstairs, “Dad?” He must be still asleep. I’d better shout louder: dad,dad,dad,dad,dad,dad,dad,dad,DAD,DAD,DAD,DAD,DAD,DAD,DAD,DADDADDADDADDADDADDADDAD………DAD!!!!!!!!!

There was a sudden bellow from above like a bull that had come home from a hard day and found his dinner was not on the table. A rumble like distant thunder, as if the mighty Thor himself was about to make a grand entrance. “Oh dear cats you’re in trouble now”, but the cats had disappeared from the top of the stairs, they were nowhere to be seen. A dark figure loomed at the top of the stairs and started down speaking in some strange language that I didn’t really understand most of even though I recognised some of the words like “you little….” and “what the…” but the rest it was alien to me. I said to Alf, whose head popped up  from behind the arm of the settee and just as quickly popped back down again, “He’s going to sort those cats out once and for all.”

Dad reached the bottom of the stairs and looked down at me, “What’s wrong with you?” I sat down and smiled back up at him.

Bones: Ah, I’m glad you heard me, please tell those cats to stop staring at me, it’s very rude.

Dad: What do you want?

Bones: I want you to sort the cats out if you don’t mind, a simple telling off will do for Millie but you can be severe as you like with Raffles.

Dad: Do you want a widdle?

Bones: Well perhaps later but for now I’d rather watch the cats get punished.

Dad (opening the gate of my playpen): Didn’t your mom let you out before she left?

Bones: Of course but that’s not the point, the point is what are you going to do about those cats?

Dad: Look Bones, don’t mess me about, do you want to go in the garden or what?

Bones: Why would I want to go in the garden? I want justice!

I sat there looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to go and shout at the cats for their insolence, but dad just sighed and hung his head for a few seconds before shutting the gate to my playpen and starting back up the stairs. “Go get ’em dad,” I yelled with glee; he stopped and turned to look back at me, “I hear you once more and I’m going to cut your sodding tail off, now shut up!”

I couldn’t believe it, he took the cats side over me? And what would I do without a tail? I’d only be half a dog! I lay down on my favourite blanket and felt sorry for myself. An hour later he came down the stairs again and I turned my back on him. He came up behind me and picked me up, giving me a big hug and a good scratch behind the ear. All forgiven now, I’m sure he wouldn’t really cut my tail off; the fact remains though that I will have to deal with the cats on my own; I’m just the dog for the job!