Slimy slippers

image courtesy of shoesbymail.co.uk

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…

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.

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.

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.

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!

 

What have you done dad?

image

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!