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?

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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.

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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.

What have you done dad?

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Dad told me it was a big day for me, a special day. He was treating me, yeah some treat.

He put me in the car and off we went. 10 minutes later we pull up at this place I’d never been to before. It had Dogsbodies written on the window, I thought my number was up! This is where they shoot dogs and pile up their bodies?

Dad took me inside, I was a bit wary but I doubted dad would let me down. A skin inside greeted us and dad introduced me, “This is Bones,” he said. I puffed my chest out and looked up at him – yeah that’s right, you heard him, I’m Bones. dad handed over the lead and said goodbye before leaving back out the way we had come in. I tried to follow but the skin held me back. Dad turned and told me to behave myself; that would be a first, I thought to myself.

With that the door closed and he was gone. I was alone with a stranger in a strange place. This was not good. He led me through another door and all of a sudden I was confronted by other skins with dogs I didn’t know on tables, the skins were scrubbing and brushing and cutting off their fur. A torture chamber!

I growled and took a step back, warning them not to come near me but a springer spaniel told me it was ok and nobody was trying to hurt me. I told him “Bones hands out the hurt,” but I admit to being a little scared. I decided the best thing to do was make this place my own and started widdling up every available space. From then on everyone knew that this was now Bones’ turf – don’t mess!!!!

The skin lifted me onto one of the tables. Friends it was horrible! I was scrubbed and made to smell like a tart’s handbag, my ears were cleaned, my claws were clipped and my fur was torn from my body. Two and a half hours this lasted, two and a half hours of hell.

When they had finished they phoned my dad. He pulled up outside and came in. When he saw me he started laughing, “They’ve taken years off you Bones, you look like a pup again.” I can’t afford to lose years, I’m only 18 months old. He paid the skin for humiliating me and put me in the car. “I can’t believe how cute you look,” said dad. Get stuffed dad,” I replied.

We got home, the stinking collies had been worried about me when dad had come home previously minus your pal Bones. Now they didn’t recognise me when I walked in and rushed over to sniff me and push me with their noses. When they realised it was actually me they started laughing too, “who’s a pretty boy then?” Said Alf, I’m not a parrot for crying out loud! I growled at them and walked away. I looked back just as dad was taking the above picture, thanks a bunch dad, thanks a bloody bunch!

On the subject of the olympics

Just found this brilliant picture of Andy Murray’s border terriers wearing his medals. Well deserved my friends -you know what they say: “Behind every good skin is an even better dog!” Hmm, or did I just imagine someone said that?

Anyway check out the story: http://uk.eurosport.yahoo.com/blogs/londonspy/murray-dogs-wear-olympic-medals-040059424.html

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.