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…

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.

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.

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.

Good for something

My dad’s guilt over the desecration of my nether regions has worked to my advantage. This stupid cone prevents me from enjoying a good scratch on and around my ears. Dad has very kindly been helping me out and I spends time with him in the evening getting my ears, head and neck scratched. At least he is good for something. I don’t blame him really for my loss, it seems he was talked into it by mom who, as all females of every species do, wanted me snipped. She decided that I was a danger to the whole neighbourhood and took this drastic action to curtail me.

It’s been over a week now that I’ve been walking around with a cone on my head like an icecream terrier. Tomorrow I have my stitches out and thus the cone comes off.

No more bumping into doors because I have misjudged the gap; no more will the collies pull my tail to switch on the light because they say I look like a lamp; no more will they sneak up behind me and bark up my butt because I look like a megaphone. Or try to get me to howl and pretend it’s an air raid. I’ve had enough, just leave me alone!

An old skin over in the fields even made fun of me as I was playing with his dog. He said “Oh look, it’s His Master’s Voice.” I didn’t know what he was on about until I saw an advertisement for HMV music store. GRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

The stupid cone is mashed up anyway, it is scarred with collie teeth marks from where I’ve foresaken my rest and recuperation period and fought on despite the plastic handicap the cone represented.

Ah but….tomorrow everything changes. I will be free of this encumberance and if they think that depriving me of the chance to build an army of Border Terrier Badboys will somehow calm me down and make me a lapdog…oh dear oh dear – they are going to be mightily disappointed. My friends, the war has only intensified…hehehehe

There will never be peace, never! I will fight on until there is not another dog standing in my street or until the last beat of my heart has finally been silenced.

Vengeance will be mine sayeth Bones!

 

Bones x5

Just a quick entry. It’s getting harder to find time on dad’s computer as he’s always on it…..get a life dad!

Ok so your old pal Bones is heading across the fields at the bottom of the road with Chunky Jess and Skinny Alf. We’d been out for quite a while and it was getting time to head off home.

Suddenly, from around the corner came a skin we didn’t know, and with him was an entire pack of Bones! Five Border Terriers, all of them looked like me, although they were a bit younger. They saw us and charged all at the same time; I turned to Jess and Alf and said, “we might have our paws full with this lot,” but they were gone. The cowardly curs had taken one look at this fast approaching wave of fur and teeth and thought better of making a stand.

I was shocked they were running, “Where are you going?” I barked.

Alf looked back over his shoulder and yelled back, “One of you is bad enough!” He went up another gear and left Jess trailing behind as they raced to hide behind mom.

I couldn’t believe it, I looked back at this unruly border rabble as they approached. Each of them yapping “Fight me!” “No fight me!” “Don’t fight him, fight me!” I suddenly realised that I might need to find a better place to sort this lot out – I didn’t want to get surrounded. I needed to get my tail up against something solid so they couldn’t outflank me. I did the only thing I could, and that was make a tactical retreat – with these five lunatics in hot pursuit. I turned when I reached mom.

Eventually the skin and my mom were able to seperate the ensuing melee and we parted company. As we headed off home, Jess and Alf were barking: “see what you stupid terriers are like? You just don’t care do you?” Alf said.

“You don’t give us any peace, always wanting to fight, well now you’ve had a taste of your own medicine,” Jess added haughtily tossing her head.

“That’s not true,” I protested, “I’m not like that! And don’t bark at me like that…unless you want a fight?” I  jumped up and nipped her jowls, just to show her I’m not one to be messed with.

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.

Bones stuck in the mud

It’s embarrassing but seeing as you are my closest friends I will tell you, I know you won’t tell anyone else.

I was out in the fields with the lumbering Jess and faster than light Alf, we were having a rare old time running about, chasing each other and such like. At the edge of one of the fields is a little ditch; Alf, whose feet barely make contact with the ground as he streaks around, raced through it with me in hot pursuit. As I got to the bottom of the ditch I stopped for a breather. I was slightly confused when the opposite wall, no more than a slight incline, grew by a few inches. Then I realised: it isn’t going up, I’m going down – I was sinking! I tried to run but my feet had disappeared into the mire and my already short legs were shortening even more. I was stuck.

I was panicking a little, not an easy thing for a tough dog like me to admit. What if nobody had seen me go down here, I’d disappear forever in this nasty mud and nobody would be any the wiser. I strained to pull one of my front paws free, every muscle in my shoulder and across my chest taut with the effort, my face scrunched up as I tugged with all my might. With a gloop my front paw came free, but with all the effort I had only succeeded in driving my other 3 paws deeper. The mud was up to my belly and I was out of steam. This was serious, I was going to drown. I pushed down with my one free paw, trying desperately to gain some leverage but it just sank again. I had used up all my energy getting it free the first time, there was no way I could do it again, I gave it a go but there was nothing doing. I delved into my reserves but the tank was empty.

I couldn’t believe it, my end had come, the final moments as such a precious life was about to be extinguished. Not in battle like I expected, protecting my house, defending my friends, fighting the good fight against overwhelming odds; no, my life was about to be taken for nothing by this thick, clinging slop.

I thought about all the things I would miss: my friends, my favourite blanket, my toys, my mom taking me for walks, my dad telling me off but always having a treat in his pocket and a scratch behind my ear, falling asleep on his lap then being woken up because he’s cursing a football player or boxer on the tv. I’ll miss my big sister Jess and my big brother Alf. Heck I’ll even miss the stupid cats; in fact I promised the blue sky above that if I made it out of here I’d be nice to Raffles forever, wow things were desperate!

As I contemplated mortality my thoughts were interrupted by two shadows that blocked out the sun and the sound of laughter. Jess and Alf were laughing at my predicament, I was almost glad to see them. They were joined by mom who reached down and plucked me free from the jaws of death. When she put me down, I lay on my side panting both from exhaustion and relief. Mom said, “come on Bones, let’s get you home.”

When we got home it was straight in the bath for me. Dad wandered in and asked how I’d got in that state. When mom told him he burst out laughing! How could he be so heartless? I nearly died! You wait, I’ll get you for that dad.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold, well I bided my time until the next morning; dad was walking into the living room in his favourite old shorts that aren’t as cosy a fit as when he bought them. Sometimes he has to hitch them up a bit, he likes them though, he feels comfortable wearing them in the house when it’s warm. Dad’s hands were full carrying his breakfast bowl and mug of tea. He was just telling Jess to shift herself so he could get past when I jumped up and gave the hem of his shorts the slightest tug. As he hadn’t got a free hand he couldn’t pull them back up as they slowly but steadily headed south. His cry of alarm as his pink, shiney butt was revealed to the world sent us dogs into hysterics. He stumbled over to his chair like an arthritic penguin and although he cursed loudly enough that I’m sure I would have heard him in my muddy grave, we laughed even louder.

P.S. That bit about being nice to Raffles forever? Erm…..nah….hehehehe

 

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!