A new theme for Bones’ Diary

I got up this morning feeling like it was time for a change. I’ve been writing this inane drivel – I mean lierary masterpieces of the modern era – for almost a whole year, ever since July 29th 2011 when I wrote “Bones’ Diary – THE BEGINNING”. There was a little post before that, but I don’t consider it to be the first one, the one where I said: “Hello world, I’m Bones.”

So I’ve changed the theme on my site. I really like it, reminds me of that time last year when dad took me on holiday to the beach by the biiiiiig pond. Thinking back to that makes me misty eyed, or at least it would if I weren’t as tough as old boot leather! hehehehe

Let me know what you think of my new look site, you know I love reading comments from my friends all around the world.

Even the Dog-Botherer’s getting involved. Support around the world has been phenomenal, just hope the skins see sense and spare our brother Lennox.
Please sign the petitions.

The Beautiful Game

Thank the heavens for Euro 2012. Dad gets even grumpier than usual during the summer when there is no football on; by the way for my American friends’ information, I’m talking about proper football, not the silly armoured behemouths who run around for 5 seconds before leaving the pitch to be wrapped in a blanket and given oxygen and, despite only one person in a team of 40 being allowed to kick the ball, they still call it football? Hmm, strange.

No this is proper football, what Pele once called “the beautiful game.”

Dad loves football, he used to have a season ticket to see his team. I know he misses those crazy days. It’s funny, mom can be talking to him about any subject you like and you can tell by the faraway look in his eyes he hasn’t heard a word she’s said because he’s thinking about football! hehehehe

Away from the league though, this summer he has the distraction of the European Championships. Yet watching England play can be as agonising as watching his club side.

I must admit, I’m a big fan of the game myself and I’ve been there sitting watching all the games on tv. Here’s a photo of me watching the England v Sweden match with my dad.




After a good start Sweden went 2-1 up and dad wore despair like a heavy cloak. His moods seem entangled with the fate of our national team. Each Swedish goal was like a knife that twisted into him. As his faithful dog I felt it too as the opposition scored:




As they attacked dad would sit further and further forward in his seat, Walcott hit one from the edge of the box “Go on…go on…go on….y…ye….YES!!! YEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!!! GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!!!!!!! GET IN THERE!!!!!” His arms aloft, his face contorted with joy. I was going just as mental as him:



We celebrated together, dad and Bones, Bones and dad. “Eng-er-land, Eng-er-land, Eng-er-land…..” We didn’t want to settle for a point though, not after drawing our first game against France. But then Walcott drives for the line, knocks it across, Wellbeck…. oh what a goal, what a cheeky little goal, what a beautiful goal. Bones and dad, dad and Bones raising the roof:




England win…..Ukraine next!

After the match I was spent, all that emotion takes it out of you:

I love football!

Support Lennox from Belfast

One of my best friends, Marina Kanavaki, sent me this link: http://our-compass.org/2012/06/13/please-write-to-save-lennox-sample-letter/

I hadn’t heard about this but apparently one of our furry brothers has been put on death row in Belfast and has been there for two years, just because they say he looks like a pitbull. They measured him and from those measurements they have ascertained that he is a dangerous dog and should be destroyed.

The dog in question, Lennox, has never attacked anyone, has never shown aggression and is not even a pitbull, he’s a labrador/american bulldog cross and he is a family pet; a pet that is so loved by his family, they are prepared to pay thousands of pounds in court fees to bring him home.

A petition to spare his life has been signed by many thousands around the world yet it is ignored by the courts. Here is the latest from the Belfast Telegraph where even Northern Ireland’s First Minister joins the masses calling for justice.

How can this go on? Measuring a dog to determine if it is dangerous? That’s ridiculous – what genius came up with that gem? This reminds me of the stain of social darwinism in the 19th and 20th centuries when white supremecists resorted to skull measurement to prove they were higher on the evolutionary ladder than other races.

I’m asking all my friends around the world to support Lennox and get the lawmakers to take a fresh look at revising or repealing the Dangerous Dogs Act 1991


Losing hope for humanity

http://m.birminghammail.net/ms/p/tmg/bhammail/sXr6Ew3mzA7jeYwLOTEbaHw/view.m?id=4596167&tid=638956&cat=Top_Stories I sit and scratch my head sometimes when I see stories like this. When someone reaches a point so low that they could consider suicide their only way out, that’s such a tragedy. But for moronic onlookers to encourage them to jump????!!!!!!?????? What has this society come to? Or have I slept through the tipping point where normal society broke down, when the rules of decency became outdated and ignored en masse? Why didn’t you wake me? If you have a God to pray to, please spare a thought for this poor soul. Put in a good word for him, eh?

Alfie the hero

There coms a time in every dog’s life where you have to stand up and be counted, otherwise the world can just sort of roll over you, leave you flat. Self respect gone. All of us face a moment like this and who we are is determined by how we face it. The other day was Alfie’s moment.
There’s big dog lives near us and sometimes comes down to the fields where we run. He’s a very large German Shepherd, bigger than all of us and likes to show it; he’s a bully.
On a few occasions he’s been nasty to Alf who has shyed away, this GSD is twice the size of Alf and easily double his weight, as I’ve told you before, Alfie is a skinny lad. Jess has growled at him to leave Alfie alone once or twice but even she knows to keep her distance. Poor Alf puts his tail between his legs and hides behind mom.
I haven’t seen this dog around for a while because he seems to prefer walking in the nearby park, in fact I haven’t seen him over the fields since I was a puppy, knee high to a high knee. Anyway, the other day we’re ust entering the fields and this big lump is there. He spotted me first and thought that I’d be an easy victim, being only a little fella. He came bounding towards me, barking his head off that he was going to turn me inside out blahblahblah; well, my friends , as you know Bones does not back down – ever! I started trotting towards him, a low murmur starting in my throat. Let’s just see what he’s got.
Next thing I knew, there was a black blur in the corner of my eye and the most menacing growl I’ve ever heard. Alf ran at this monster and jumped on him! His sharp white teeth biting down on the monster’s back, a crazed look in his eye. Before you could say “Jack the giant killer” the monster was off across the field not looking all that monstrous any longer, with Alf snapping at his tail.
When we got home, I lay down next to Alfie, my big brother, and listened to his breathing as he drifted off to sleep, it wasn’t long before I joined him there.
True courage isn’t about not being scared, its about knowing you’re scared but facing up to it anyway. It’s about looking the demon in the eye and saying “or what?” My big brother Alfie will always be my hero, even though he was scared of the monster, there was no way he was going to let it get me. (I didn’t really need help, I think I could have took him, but don’t tell Alf that!)

Moving story

I heard a funny story which I wanted to share with you. It concerns my dad from a time before I was born, even before Jess was born, when he and mom were buying their first home together.
They had been living in a rented place in Birmingham but apparently although the flat itself was nice and it was by a small boating lake so the view was great, it was in the middle of a rather rough neighbourhood. Following a few shootings and stabbings in the streets around them, dad said “c’mon, time we moved.”
They went to Tamworth which was where my dad was brought up and bought a nice little flat together. Mom decided she didn’t like the existing decor so she decided to paint it magnolia. The previous owners said they would leave their sofa behind so she had somewhere to sit while decorating; very kind of them. When the decorating was finished they decided to throw out this big old leather sofa and buy new furniture. It was then they realised why the previous owners had left it behind: it was too big to fit through the door! Dad tried turning it one way then another but it was not getting through. Eventually he told mom he was going to phone his friend to help him.
That afternoon mom had gone out and dad’s friend Gus arrived in his van. Gus mocked dad for not being able to do it himself. Dad told him that if he was so clever he’d have no problem getting it out. Gus turned it one way then another but it was not going through the door. It was way too big to go through the window too. Gus scratched his head, “How did they get it in here?” Dad wondered if they had actually built the complex around the sofa, “maybe it’s always been here.”
Gus is a roofer by trade so he has an array of tools on his van. He left the flat with a determined stride and returned with a still saw – a circular saw with a petrol motor used to cut roof tiles, bricks, concrete whatever. Gus pulled the cord and it roared into life, he roared too: “Right then, now it’s having it” This had become personal, Gus would not be defied by furniture! Dad asked if this was a good idea but it was too late.
As the saw ripped through the sofa the stuffing caught fire, thick smoke began filling the room at such an alarming rate that dad could no longer see Gus, but he could hear him laughing manically over the noise of the screaming saw. The acrid smoke was choking dad as he stumbled blindly across the living room looking for the window. He was worried that the new neighbours would be soon calling the fire brigade.
Eventually the smoke cleared and Gus stood there triumphantly holding the still smouldering sofa arm, “There, simple when you know what you’re doing,” he declared. They wrestled the remains of the sofa outside and threw water over it to make sure the building would be safe before returning to the living room. It was then they realised that the saw had a leak and oil had sprayed up the freshly painted living room wall…..!