Sunday, November 1, 2015

Ghoulies, Ghosties & Things That Go Bang In The Night

Well it’s All Hallows Eve Chez Sid and Tony, the butler, has a birthday today so that tells you all you need to know about his proclivities! He’s all pumpkins, funny teeth, bats, capes and white-face make up, bit of a div if I’m really honest. The long and short of it is that the staff are going out to fill their bellies with posh nosh and leaving me to my own devices at home. Still, at least it gives me a bit of peace and quiet and I don’t have to do any of these ‘sit, stand, lie down’ tricks which I find very boring and I can do standing in my sleep if I really want to - the treats are merely an incidental and welcome side effect of my perfect performance. So off they go but before they leave I have to go through this pathetic charade of the external ablutions  out in the garden. I mean, I ask you, am I likely to despoil my small pen with wee, or worse, unnecessarily. I have had the odd accident but my bladder was much smaller then but, hey, we still have go through this palaver as though I’m still a pup. For goodness sake I’m nearly four months old, that’s almost two in humans years. Anyway, I’m mid-squat on the grass (there’s a strange compulsion to ‘raise a hind leg’ whispering in the back of my brain which is slightly disturbing, feels like I’m having a stroke, but I’m ignoring it for the time being) but I digress, I’m mid-squat when there’s a whooshing sound followed by a loud bang and before I know it the old survival mechanism has kicked in and I’m heading back to the sanctuary of the kitchen. Didn’t half give me a start but Lynda had a handy treat and those seem to have the capacity to induce rapid amnesia. The staff had a hurried conversation about The Event and it transpires that humans have a rather touching if somewhat childish affinity for sparkly things and things that go bang, a bit like the Native Americans had for shiny trinkets when the first settlers landed in America. (I know, it’s amazing what you can pick up from the TV while relaxing on the butler’s lap in the evenings. I’m soaking stuff up like a sponge. Sponges there’s another interesting subject and oh’ look - a squirrel.) It’s all very childish but the staff are worried lest I develop an over-sensitive reaction to ‘fireworks’ I believe they’re called. Not worried enough to stay home and cuddle me senseless though so they turn on the radio and bugger off for their posh blow-out. So now I’ve got two noises to be concerned about, inane Radio 2 drivel from some hyper-active babbler in between ‘music’ and potential aerial explosions which go off without warning. Honestly these humans, what do they use for brains? In the event there were a couple more pathetic pops but I seem to be able to cope with them through two layers of glass. The ‘music’ was far worse. Perhaps I can get them to leave Classic FM on in future though I despair for their sensitivity. They are a bit thick. Still it could be worse I was perusing the web and came across this...

... I trust someone will shoot me before I sink to this level. Oh the indignity.

Other than that life proceeds apace and I meet loads of new people on my daily exercise some quite pleased to see me others not so much. I keep meeting new dogs most of them considerably bigger than I am. I say bigger but, of course, I’m referring to height only. In terms of character and ego I’m difficult to match and most of these much taller dogs are a bit slow. I expect the nerve impulses have that much further to travel so everything just slows down. Mostly these guys are pretty civilised and either ignore me completely or give me a couple of cursory wags which is a bit patronising but, I suppose, only to be expected for the new kid on the block. I’m guessing they’re a bit threatened at so much charisma in so neat a package. We’ll see how it goes.

Back later with more news from the undergrowth - that folks is a description of my hunting ground not my diminutive self. Laters...

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