The Border on the border

I was watching the news on tv with my dad, I love doing that because he tends to shout at the screen more often, it’s so funny. So on the news it said that there is this thing going on between the two Koreas. The lads up in the North are getting cranky over the lads down in the South playing games with some American lads – did I get that right? So why won’t they let the Northerners play? What sort of game is it? I hope it involves a ball or tug rope.

Seriously though, I have got a toe on the geopolitical pulse. If my neighbour was messing about in his garden, banging on the fence, shouting insults and occasionally showing his bare backside atop the fence – wouldn’t I want to jump over said fence and sink my teeth in said bare backside? (I just want it known that this is a hypothetical scenario, my nieghbours are not the type of people who would show off their backsides, bare or not.)

All I am saying is: STOP WINDING THEM UP! They’re paranoid enough, they have a new boss who might not be politically astute and is possibly unused to diplomacy and, if truth be told, is a cartoonists dream. Scale down the war games and stop flying planes that are capable of dropping nuclear weapons so close to the border. The US spat their dummy out in the sixties and nearly pushed the button when the Soviets were going to place missiles in Cuba, they know what it is like to be threatened.

Ask yourself this: do you need me to go and sort this mess out? Do you really want this Border on that border?

By the way, anyone who reads my dad’s blog will know that one of his family has published a book on Amazon called Crystal Healing and the Human Energy Field by Marion McGeough from the British Academy of Reiki. Click that link today and you can still get it for free. All she asks in return is that you write a review for it on Amazon, tweet a link, like it on facebook, blog about it or reblog this post. Thanks.

Right that’s it my friends, I hear there’s trouble brewing in the living room between the collies so I’d better go sort it out. Peace.

Slimy slippers

image courtesy of shoesbymail.co.uk

My dad loves his slippers, especially when the weather isn’t all that warm. I used to try to steal them and run off but he would go a bit mental and threaten to warm my backside with them! Which, I suppose, isn’t too bad when the weather isn’t all that warm.

I have found a new game that I like to play now. When he isn’t wearing them and he isn’t looking I sneak up and lick the inside. I know that sounds disgusting, and trust me it doesn’t taste that good, but the look on his face when he puts his bare foot in his freshly slimed slippers is worth a hundred warmed backsides.

Busy Border

It seems that I am so busy these days I don’t have time to do anything; rush, rush, rush.

Yesterday we had some snow, not a great amount, I wasn’t digging my way from the front door to the end of the drive to go for a walk – although that would have been great fun – no, it was just a couple of inches, a light dusting you might call it. Now, as you know, I love it when it snows, we all do. Alfie and me run around like maniacs and Jess just wants to roll about in it. I like the cold on my paws and ploughing a furrow with my nose to see what’s hidden underneath.

There is a problem when it snows though. I have to spend ages re-marking my territory. This is not just in the back garden either, there is the fields, the bushes up the park and of course every lamppost and gatepost in the street. It seems that for the next day or two after the come comes I am permanently balanced on three legs. How I don’t run out of widdle I don’t know.

I gotta go there are one or two bushes and rocks out the back I need to sort out…

Merry Christmas

To all my friends I wish you a Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!

A gift from Mother Nature

I am not being cocky when I write this but the truth is plain to see: I am a perfect machine. Mother Nature has made me this way. Sometimes the old girl makes mistakes and we get aberrations like Jess and Alf, but usually she gets things right.

I have bright eyes that let me see for miles, even without them my nose is so sensitive that I can picture the world around me just from scent. My ears can pick up the slightest sound and my brain is instantly alert. My fur is thick and wirey, it keeps me warm in the harshest of conditions and protects me from brambles and suchlike. I have a deep, broad chest that contains a heart that is so strong that I have almost limitless stamina. My legs are short but incredibly strong. I can run as fast and as far and jump as high as an olympian thanks to my broad, powerful hindquarters.

Therefore I resent my dad saying things like: “Hasn’t Bones got a fat arse?”

Have you herd?

This morning we headed out across the fields for our morning run with mom. As you might have guessed, dad was still in his pit snoring his head off. Jess was sniffing every blade of grass, I was running around her legs trying to wind her up and Alf had gone off somewhere. Next thing I knew, Alf came barreling over to me, “Bones, there’s a big pack of giant dogs in the next field and I think they’re looking for trouble!” He panted.

“They’ve come to the right place then, leave this to me.” Off I went to the next field to have a look and see off this giant menace. When I got there, all psyched up for a mega scrap, I realised that as usual Alf was making fun of me; they weren’t dogs at all, they were cows. Someone in their wisdom had put a load of cows in one of our fields! This means from now on it is off limits to us – not fair, we were here first.

I trotted back and told Jess, “They aren’t dogs, they’re a bunch of cows.”

“Herd.” She said.

“Heard what?”

“Herd of cows.”

“Of course I’ve heard of cows!” She must think I’m stupid or something.

Where have you been Bones?

I can’t believe it has been so long since I tapped out the last entry into Bones’ Diary. I wonder if anyone has missed me? You were probably wondering why it has been so long? Mostly it is because my dad has been hogging the computer too much trying to write his book: “Me & Gus on the Roof of the World.” At the same time he is writing his own blog to promote it and tweeting or twittering or being a twit…whatever, it’s just annoying! I suppose I could use my mom’s netbook but the keys are too small and close together for my paws. What’s a dog to do?

Maybe I could put in my letter to Santa that I want my own PC (puppy computer), and that if he brings me one I promise to be a good little dog. Which brings me to the other reason I haven’t had much time to write: I’ve been a bit of a bad lad. I developed a taste for furniture design and busied myself the other day reshaping the sofa; it’s not difficult, anyone can do it – a little chunk here and a little chunk there. Dad didn’t seem impressed with my artistry and went a little crazy, “You little ******* you’ve eaten the sofa!” Obviously I hadn’t eaten it, even chubby Jess couldn’t get that down her neck, I’d spat the pieces of foam on the floor.

He went out with mom for a couple of hours and when they returned he announced that they’d been and ordered a new one; he turned to me and thanked me for my efforts and said he was so pleased he had to pay all that money out. “My pleasure dad, would you like to consult on my redesign of the new one?” I don’t know if he understood that or it was the big smile on my face that he saw but he pointed a threatening finger at me and hissed,”Bones, if you even look at the new sofa I will beat you to death with your own freshly severed tail!” Hmm, a bit harsh methinks.

I’ve been keeping my head down recently, staying out of his way and behaving as best I can. That’s partly the reason I haven’t been on his computer, I don’t want to antagonise him. He’ll forget about it eventually and I can set about my next project, an armchair that I consider a tad overstuffed.

 

Scum of the earth

Dad came home angrier than I had seen him ever. He wasn’t ranting and raving but his face was stiff. It was a bit scarey, I was trying to think what I might have done to get him like this but for once it wasn’t my fault.

From what I can gather from overheard conversation, my dad’s aunt, who is pushing 90 or something like that, has had visitors. Dad was informed by one of her neighbours that some unsavoury looking skins had been up on her roof. Dad told her not to have anything to do with them if they came back and if there was a problem with the roof he’d get his friend to go up there because he is a proper roofer.

Sometimes auntie doesn’t listen to my dad so he told his sister to talk to her. When dad went down to visit his aunt on saturday the police were there talking to his sister. Apparently these skins had come back, had gone back on the roof, done next to nothing to correct a problem with the ridge tiles that didn’t exist in the first place, then charged her £1,100!!!! Not only did she get ripped off for all that money, they went into her house and had the cheek to steal and eat chocolate from her fridge!

One of the neighbours had taken the registration of their van but when the policeman called it in, there was no record of ownership, no tax and no insurance records. Basically they are long gone.

I urge all my friends who read this to be vigilant, please take extra care of your elderly neighbours because there are alot of bad skins out there who were born without morals or conscience and think nothing of preying on the vulnerable.

The new Jerusalem

It’s Saturday morning. Your pal Bones and the two collies were lounging about, having a nice lazy day.

Mom took us out just after 6 this morning for a run across the fields. It was still dark when we left but we didn’t mind because the air was fresh and crisp, the dew on the long grass soaked us as we ran along through it. There was nobody about and it felt like we were the only dogs in the whole world and the fields were ours. We had so much fun we woke up the sun and it peered sleepily over the hedge at the bottom of the field to see what we were doing before dragging it’s lazy butt into the sky.

We’ve earned our rest after such exertions.

Mom took us out early because she had to drive to Birmingham where she teaches Reiki. Dad was still in his filthy pit when she left so we had blessed peace and quiet, if only for a while.

Eventually the ogre awoke and after some lumbering around up there, a few loud yawns and the screech of a cat whose tail had been trodden on, he made his way down the stairs.

He fussed us each in turn. I pretended to be asleep so he wouldn’t make me go outside for a widdle but he wasn’t fooled. The other dogs filed out dutifully on command, the creeps, but when I didn’t move, my eyes clenched shut, he merely lifted me in the air and tucked me under his arm. As we marched to the back door I struggled and tried to get my teeth into him but it was to no avail and I was dumped in the garden.

He toasted some bagels, but they were not the ones I like. he went for the cinnamon and raisin whereas I prefer the plain with cream cheese, he’ll do anything not to share his breakfast! At least he gave us a treat each when we trooped back in.

He ate his breakfast while watching a documentary on tv, boring history stuff. We retook our previous positions on various items of furniture and started dozing again.

When the programme he was watching had finished and he had emptyed his mug, he decided that what we really wanted to hear was a song – he was wrong! Undeterred by a lack of audience attention he started singing Jerusalem, one of my favourite hymns… in fact it’s not up against much competition, I’m not a hymn singing dog to be perfectly honest. Anyway, not only was the song ruined in my ears by his dreadful singing, if it can be called singing, but the big fool decided to make up his own version and at the same time insult the three of us! So annoyingly loudly, and irritatingly off-key, he belts out:

“And did those dogs, in ancient times, smell quite as bad as these bloody three?”

Jess jumped off the chair in a huff and went into the kitchen, Alf stood on the windowsill and barked ear-shatteringly loud, telling dad to stop singing. I just put my paws over my ears and waited for the din to cease. William Blake turned in his grave.

Skins with tails?

So what’s next? Us walking them?

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/video/mood-brain-controlled-tails-humans-112009597.html

I’m not sure if this is the brightest or the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. Read the above and decide for yourself, leave me a comment and let me know what you think.