I’ve been rumbled!

I might not be quite as clever as I thought I was – Dad knows! Ok so that statement usually ends in “…very little”, but it appears something he has added to his limited knowledge is the existence of Bones’ Diary.

I thought I had been very careful about keeping it from him, you know how jealously he guards his laptop. I’m sure he’s thought about ringing it with barbed wire or actually glueing it to his lap, the miserable git! You can’t keep secrets forever, someday these things slip out and are made public. That can happen in a myriad of ways but this time it was the stinking, filthy cats who grassed me up – the dirty snitch moggy stoolie gobshites!!!!!!!

I only found out when I stumbled across my dad’s blog that he has set up to promote the book he is writing: “Me & Gus on the Roof of the World.” Some crazy stuff about a trip he made with his pal, they went from Nepal to China, across the Himalaya. A crazy thing to do in the first place but it got even crazier and turned into quite an exciting adventure from what I can gather.

Why he wanted to go that far away and face the dangers that he did seems quite beyond me, but then again it’s always good to find somewhere new to widdle.

Anyway, while I doubt his silly musings will be anywhere near as enjoyable as some of my literary masterpieces, can you do me a huge favour my friends? Can you pop across and have a look at his blog? http://dannybreslin.wordpress.com Who knows, you might enjoy it.

Kats, Kones and Karting.

Before I express my relief at having my lampshade removed, I want to tell you about the dangers of wearing one.

We were coming back from our afternoon walk on friday when we were attacked by a lunatic cat who had obviously decided that life wasn’t worth living and would end it all in spectacular fashion!

As we passed the entrance to a driveway, this stupid cat came flying out and dived into the middle of us; screeching, biting and clawing for all it was worth. Alf, who has proven himself quite a tasty little fighter when up against dogs, seemed unable to move and looked up at mom for direction. Jess clucked at the cat like a fat hen but was also unable to react. Meanwhile this feral furball had scratched her leg enough to make it bleed and nicked Alfie’s nose.

I went absolutely ballistic and fought back like I was struggling against Old Nick himself, but everytime I went to clamp down on this fleabag cat my cone was bouncing off it. The cat came back another couple of times but each attack was repelled by my cone hitting it as I tried to bite. If I hadn’t been wearing the stupid thing then they would have found nothing but a little collar with a bell on it – bye bye Twinkle or whatever stupid cat name it had been given.

The two collies who are double my size let themselves down in this one and ended up bleeding; I came out of it without a scratch. A lesson for all my dog pals: when the chips are down, go in 100% no matter what the odds, you are less likely to get hurt if you are not playing the role of the victim.

So anyway, now I am coneless I feel much better about myself. Nobody is laughing at me any more. Saturday morning we went to the vets in Tamworth, mom much prefers them to the local ones and I agree, I always get fuss and a treat down there and it’s not that far away. Snip snip and the stitches were gone along with the cone. Free at last, free at last.

Afterwards we went to the karting track just outside Tamworth. Yes it was dad’s annual karting day which regular readers of Bones’ Diary will remember I barked about last year. When we arrived dad took me out of the back of the car and we went in to meet the lads. A bit more fuss later and mom took me home.

Many hours later she went to pick him up. He arrived home in his annual karting stupor, his jacket worn in an “off the shoulder” look; one eye open and bottom lip jutting out in defiance. In an effort to stop him swearing she made him some food so at least his mouth would be full, keeping him quiet for a little while. Mom then went to bed leaving him to curse and wave his fist at Match of the Day on television, despite our favourite team winning, and tell us how much he loved us and how we were the best dogs in the world.

Ah well, it’s only once a year.

Like cats and Bones

It was a lazy sunday yesterday. Mom was upstairs, Jess was asleep on the sofa, Alf was on the windowsill guarding the house, me and dad were watching football on tv, I was getting my ear scratched so everything was good in the world. Alf yawned and turned to look at me, he obviously remembered that he hadn’t teased me for a while so he said, “How long has it been since you went upstairs to see Raffles?” I thought about it for a minute and replied that I wasn’t sure and enquired why he was asking. “Lost your bottle then?” Lost my bottle? Huh, don’t think so, I told him that I didn’t go up there because the gate at the bottom of the stairs was always shut and I couldn’t get past. “Not shut now” he grinned. ” Well why don’t you go up there then?” I asked, throwing it back at him. He sighed and rolled over onto his back, “I’m not the one who was barking about what I’d do to the cat in a fight, you were; but, if you’re scared….”

I started walking towards the bottom of the stairs, absolutely bristling with rage. Jess had woken up and heard the last part of the conversation and she told me not to be stupid, and grumbled at Alf for winding me up. Alf was laughing until I got to the stairs and went up a couple of steps, he said “come on Bones, I was just pulling your tail.” I wasn’t listening, I just wanted to show him that I wasn’t scared. Dad was oblivious to all this as he watched the match, I was sort of hoping that he’d tell me to come back down but he was engrossed. Ah well, I’ve started now, best paw forward as they say.

I climbed to the last but one step and looked around the landing, I could hear mom in one of the rooms moving about but apart from that all was quiet. I climbed the last step and listened again – nothing. I could smell cat in the air but there was no sign of them. I walked into a bedroom and looked to see if they were there but I couldn’t see them, perhaps they were asleep somewhere. I decided to have a wander round the bed and into the bathroom, then go back to their bowls and eat their food; there’s no way Alf could call me scared then, I’d show him.

I got to the other side of the bed and saw no sign of the cats although I could smell them even stronger now; as it turns out, if I’d looked up I would have seen two pairs of eyes looking down on me from the bed. As I reached the bathroom and walked in I heard a soft thump behind me, I jumped and spun around. It was the skinny cat Milly, she was sat down with her tail swishing behind her, just regarding me curiously like I was a museum piece. “Curiosity killed the cat,” I said mockingly. Just then a shadow fell over both of us and with a much louder thump, he stood before me, big and menacing. I’d been ambushed and my escape route was blocked, now I was a little scared.

Raffles’ green eyes glinted with evil triumph, he had me cornered again, like he did when I was a puppy. The thing is I’m not a puppy anymore, I’m almost as big as him now, my muscles hard, my body hewn from rock, polished in mock battle with the dogs downstairs and my friends over the fields. Raffles thought he was in for an easy afternoon, a quick and decisive knockout… Raffles was in for one hell of a shock.

He hissed at me, the wind ruffling my fur, the smell of fetid fish breath assailing my nostrils, I growled back and bared my teeth, I was ready. He looked a little shocked that I wasn’t cowering, he wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him, but he soon gathered himself and stepped forward. Perhaps expecting me to step back, he was surprised when I lurched at him and snapped; although he swayed out of reach he automatically swung his mighty paw to counter my attack. All I saw was a flash of pure white then stars as this huge paw crashed into the side of my head, knocking me sideways and off balance. He swung his left to finish me but I ducked under it and headbutted his fat, white stomach which was exposed as he sat on his haunches and swung haymakers. He almost tumbled back but regained his balance and, with a speed that belies his size, caught me with a rapid three punch combination, I thought I saw angels dancing above me for a second, wow he hits hard! The cat paused for a second to admire his work before launching a massive right paw in a downward arc that was meant to be the coup de gras, I saw a flash of wicked claw but the momentary pause was all I needed to gather my wits. I weaved to the right and the paw came crashing down next to me, I was aware of a distant rumbling sound as I rose up on my hind legs and brought both my paws down on top of his head in such quick succession it almost sounded simultaneous – booboom. I went to clamp onto his ear, if I had he would have lost it because there was no way I was going to let go; he moved his head at the last second and my mouth landed on the back of his broad shoulders, I tried to sink my teeth into his neck but all I got was a mouthful of thick ginger fur. He swung his head and I lost my grip as I was slammed against the wall.

The rumbling got louder and nearer but I wasn’t thinking about that, I was growling at him and he hissed at me again; I charged, determined to get my teeth into him, but I was met with a blow to the top of my head that was made all the harder by my forward momentum. His claws hit me full on the crown but my fur in wirey and thick and it didn’t pierce the skin thankfully. The punch shook me but the force of the collision must have travelled up through Raffles’ leg because he stepped back. We looked at each other, both breathing hard; this was it, the crunch, the final showdown, only one of us was coming out of this bathroom alive and we both knew it. His eyes narrowed to slits and he seemed to grow as his fur stood on end, his sharp claws dug into the carpet. I tensed, evey sinew and muscle quivering, a growl growing in my throat: ” Let’s dance cat!” The rumbling stopped as mom came into view. The cats scarpered up and over the bed as mom reached down and picked me up, I was twisting and yelling, trying to get her to put me down, “I want to finish it! I want that cat!”

By the time she carried me downstairs my anger was spent. She made sure the gate was properly closed as, still a little shaken, I trotted into the living room. Alf was wide-eyed, “What happened Bones?” He gasped. I shrugged. Jess was a bit upset, “He was a stupid, foolish, reckless little boy is what happened.” I ignored her. Dad was still sitting with his feet up watching football. I jumped up and resumed my previous position next to him my heart still pounding in my chest. His big hand came over and scratched me behind my ear again, “Got it out your system boy?” He asked. “Yeah” I replied, “I think I have.”

We carried on watching the game, Bones and dad, dad and Bones. He looked at me and said “Don’t do that again, ok?” Course not dad…. ; )

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!


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.

Break down in communication

For such a young pup, I believe I speak in a very easy to understand manner, my pronunciation of barks, growls, howls and yelps is second to none. Yet skins, who think they invented language and communication, can’t understand what I’m telling them. Oh you got these self-styled experts who say this means this and that means that, but I’ve watched some of these programs with my dad and you can tell the dogs involved are only doing what they’re told because someone is slipping them treats, obviously they’ll do what the skin wants if they are being bribed – we’re suckers for treats! But they don’t really understand what we’re actually saying, we know what skins are saying but choose to ignore them until they produce our treats.

Ok, here’s an example: the other day I was in the back garden on patrol when I saw a cat I didn’t know, cheekily sat on top of the shed. I yelled at him to clear off, which he quite wisely did. Next minute the back door opens and dad’s there. Here is the conversation:

Dad: What’s all the noise about?

Bones: There was a cat on the roof of the shed.

Dad: What are you barking for lil’ man?

Bones: I just told you, there was a cat on the roof of the shed.

Dad: Did you see something?

Bones: Yes! A cat on the roof of the shed.

Dad: What was it boy?


Dad: Come on in now.

Bones: No, I’d better stay on guard in case that cat comes back.

Dad: Are you coming in or what?

Bones: No, I told you I’m staying out here, that cat could be nearby.

Dad: Come on in then Bones.

Bones: Are you deaf or just plain stupid? I can’t come in yet, if I abandon my post then that cat could come back, you know the one I mentioned that was sitting on the roof of the shed? I cannot allow that to happen, so mind your own business and let me get on with mine, OK?

Dad: Want a treat?

Bones: Coming dad.

All Bones wants for xmas

Skinny Alf and Chubby Jess have been telling me how excited they are about christmas celebrations which are approaching fast. They said that mom will be putting a tree in the house; I said there’s no dirt in the house to put it in, they’d be better off sticking it in the garden. They said it was a special kind of  tree, this one wasn’t real: “what? Like an illusion?” They rolled their eyes as if I was being thick, “Bones, don’t be silly it’s a tree but a fake one.” “Uh? What’s the point of a fake tree,” I wondered. “They can’t have a real one because the needles fall on the floor and you’d get them in your paws and up your nose and you’d eat them because that’s what you are like.” Jess told me haughtily. “Needles? Trees grow leaves not needles!” I yelped in horror, imagining a tree full of syringes like mom uses to give Jess her insulin. They looked at each other then back at me, Alf burst out laughing but Jess just groaned.

I worry about this needle tree, if I’m going to cock my leg up it then there is a strong possibility I could do myself some real damage!

From all the information I’ve been able to gather, it seems that christmas is a time for tearing brightly coloured paper and running around with bits of sticky tape on your fur. You get presents, I love presents. Mom and dad went out on sunday morning and came back with the bags they get from the pet superstore. They wouldn’t let us see what they had bought so I’m surmising that we’ve definately got presents coming. I saw a big thing that they carried in which I was excited about but its not for me, Alf told me it was for the cats to sharpen their claws on; I really don’t think that’s a good idea. If the evil Raffles sharpens his claws, guess whose hide they end up in?

If Bones ruled the world

My very good friend Bongo commented on my last post on Bones’ Diary that it would be alot more peaceful if dogs ruled the world, I replied there would be no more cats. But this set me to thinking: what if dogs did rule the world? Apart from skins on leads and cats in prison, how would things be different? When you read this please click on comments and add your ideas to this debate, this could be the start of something big – a canine renais….rennaiss….something big anyway.

I heard a song once that a skin called Tony Bennett sang called “If I Ruled the World”:

If I ruled the world, ev’ry day would be the first day of spring Every heart would have a new song to sing And we’d sing of the joy every morning would bring
If I ruled the world, ev’ry man would be as free as a bird, Ev’ry voice would be a voice to be heard Take my word we would treasure each day that occurred
My world would be a beautiful place Where we would weave such wonderful dreams                                                                            My world would wear a smile on its face Like the man in the moon has when the moon beams

If I ruled the world every man would say the world was his friend There’d be happiness that no man could end,                       No my friend, not if I ruled the world

Every head would be held up high There’d be sunshine in everyone’s sky If the day ever dawned when I ruled the world

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.

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.