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.

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.

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!

 

Two stones lighter

It is a dark day for all of dogdom. The mighty Bones is mighty no more.

You may have noticed the stupid lampshade picture from my post yesterday. There is a reason I have to wear it – I have been butchered, operated upon without my consent, attacked, disfigured, disembowled. What they have done is tantamount to vandalism and they have deprived not only me, but the whole world.

The first I knew of the dastardly plan was when mom said I was going to the see the vet. I was pleased, I always get spoiled rotten when I go there, fuss and treats from the nice skins. The worst I endure is a needle in the ruff or that little stick up my butt to tell if I’m hot or not – what’s the point? Everyone knows that Bones is cool! I was a little bit concerned that I hadn’t had any breakfast, I complained but mom wasn’t listening.

We got there and we waited to be seen. There was another dog there and we made friends, sniffing happily until we were called in. I was taken into the back room where they stuck a needle in my leg, it was just a scratch but wow did it make me feel sleepy. Next thing I knew, I was waking up with that stupid funnel attached to my collar and a pinching feeling below my belly. I felt really woozy and drunk, I reckon I must have looked like dad when he come in from his christmas party.

Mom turned up and took me home, I slept all the way in the car. When I got there the collies came to have a sniff, mom told them they had to leave me alone because I needed to rest. Jess turned to Alf and told him he was right, I’d been snipped! I didn’t know what that meant and I didn’t care, I felt really rough and just wanted to sleep.

Later they told me what had happed, they had to explain to me what castrated meant. I was devastated. Dad came back and couldn’t look me in the eye, he hadn’t wanted it to happen and had held it off as long as possible. Mom had convinced him that it for the best but it still didn’t lie easy with him, he felt like he was letting me down. Boys stuff, y’know?

So there you have it, or at least I had it but no more. Has Bones lost his mojo? Will I be the same border bad boy as I ever was? Time will tell. All I will say is that as soon as my lampshade comes off there will be some righteous retribution on a biblical scale!!!

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 v the zombies

When I was a puppy, for those of you that remember that far back, I told you about falling asleep and waking up to be confronted by my first zombie. It wasn’t a real one of course, it was on tv: mom and dad were watching “The Walking Dead”. But I didn’t know and I woke up to see a close up shot of this undead thing staring at me with lifeless eyes. You’ll remember I growled a warning to it which made my family laugh and me a bit embarrassed. Zombies don’t exist, they’re just figments of the imagination of skins like George A. Romero and Mark Tufo…..aren’t they

Ok, well check this story out. In a place called Miami a skin was shot by police as he chewed the face off some other skin. Both of them were in the nip (pardon the pun), that means naked by the way if you’re not familiar with the slang.

The report says that the police told him to behave himself but he growled at them and carried on chewing, eating his nose and eyeballs! yeeeeuch!!! Then they shot him but it didn’t stop him so they carried on shooting until he was killed; what are the odds on the kill shot having to be to the head? Remember the only way to put them down permanently is to destroy the brain or seperate the head from the neck.

This is it, this is how it always starts. The beginning of the zombie apocalypse, be ready, be prepared: you skins are about to lose your place as the dominant species, top of the food chain. I’m going to sit in the front window and guard the house – Bones is prepared, are you?

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

 

Bones will save the world!

I’m not what you call a paranoid dog but some things I read give me a bit of an itch, a little voice at the back of my underused brain that says: “There’s something not quite right here…” I’m not the sort of dog that is into conspiracy theories, most of them are a bit out there if you know what I mean, although I occasionally look into deep geopolitics (I know, I surprise myself sometimes), I think I’m just a cynical mutt.

This caught my eye this morning: Earth In Crisis As Wildlife Numbers Plummet and straight away I thought “ah, another load of sensationalist garbage.” But then that itch started again, something’s very wrong. I get this feeling that the environmentalists are the biggest threat to the skins on this planet, little snippets surface with some very famous and influential people going on about over-population, that is a very, very scarey concept; what do you do about over-population? De-populate.

Bill Gates is one of the loudest voices out there, the Gates foundation is busily vaccinating millions in Africa against polio. In this short video clip he talks about reducing the population. The vaccinations themselves are not doing what it says on the tin. He’s not a very nice skin if this is true and I’ll leave you to make up your own mind on that.

Al Gore, the champion of global warming, might have been telling a few fibs, read the evidence and decide for yourself.

That loveable rogue Prince Philip The Duke of Edinburgh has stated that if he is reincarnated he wants to return as a deadly virus, I feel sorry for the corgis.

Now I’m not denying that there is a problem with pollution, global warming or climate change or any of the other things that you skins are worried about; all I am suggesting is that there might be some very nasty people who think nothing of doing the most despicable acts imaginable to take advantage of situations. Perhaps there are too many people on this planet but who gets to decide who lives and who dies? What is the criteria that means you get to join the line on the left or the line on the right? Race? Creed? Colour? Credit rating?

I ask one thing, read both sides of the story and make your mind up, you’ve got a search engine, have a look.