Happy Mother's Day to all concerned.
Some people have roses named after them. Others have streets and avenues. Or even whole villages. My human also has a namesake. And it's an appropriate story to recall on Mother's Day.
Some years ago, while she was chatting to a brewery manager admiring his Jack Russell puppy the man told her that one of his dray horses had just foaled and if she was fond of small animals would she like to see the new arrival. Love to, she bubbled. Wobbly legs and downy fur added up to what my human considers 'absolutely gorgeous'.
She went all gooey and asked what the little animal was called. 'We haven't named her yet,' said the man. Then he had an idea. How about naming the newborn after her.. my human? No prizes for guessing the answer. She would, she told him be ‘enormously flattered and consider it a real honour'.
The foal should be fully grown now and possibly a mother herself, clomping along the highways and byways of Greater Manchester delivering barrell after barrel of beer to the brewery's many pubs in the region.
And my human? Enormously flattered to have a dray-horse named after her? Well... She always did walk like a cart-horse.
Oh no... forget I said that. She'll murder me if she reads this. Press the delete button. Quick... quick... gotta find it... help, someone.... where is it...?
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
SCOUSER IN KENT; The dog's blog
Been on a quick visit to see Joey (the Labrador, remember?). We chased each other and a ball around the garden of Carrot Cottage. Thinks he's so clever because he can fly right up in the air to catch it. But then I can jump up on all fours when I see my lead coming off the hanger by the door. All he ever does is sit there and wag his tail. We can all do that.
When he started showing off to my human, I raced him to the ball, caught it and hid it. He searched everywhere and still doesn't know where it is. No I'm not telling. I'll dig it up and torment him with it on my next visit. Yeah, I know I shouldn't be so horrible, but why does he always have to rise to the bait? I love him, really. Just don't believe in letting him know. A girl has to play hard to get, doesn't she? Keeps life interesting.
Finlay came home from school with an amazing model of Pingu that he made himself. Pingu's that daft-looking penguin on TV. Anthony's another Pingu fan. Myself, I prefer those gorgeous real-life white wolves you see prowling around the Arctic. On telly.
Finlay's really nifty with his fingers. You should see all the fantastic model aeroplanes he's made from kits (things in boxes, not kittens). He paints them and lines them up. They're brill. Michael and Oeda have given him his own little work-station in a corner of the dining room with a desk, a chair and a big strong light. He mixes up all his own paints too. Next we know, he'll be building himself a car. And that'll be great, because he might let me sit in the boot. I love doing that. Though I prefer sitting inside on the seats, not that anyone actually lets me do that. Do kit-cars have boots, anyone?
Mention of kits reminds me... little Loonie is getting to be a real big cat now. Nearly as big as Jimmy. And my tail still goes round in a circle when I see them both. Can't think why.
I can smell food... and I'm starving. Must be grub time. Gotta go. Byeeee
When he started showing off to my human, I raced him to the ball, caught it and hid it. He searched everywhere and still doesn't know where it is. No I'm not telling. I'll dig it up and torment him with it on my next visit. Yeah, I know I shouldn't be so horrible, but why does he always have to rise to the bait? I love him, really. Just don't believe in letting him know. A girl has to play hard to get, doesn't she? Keeps life interesting.
Finlay came home from school with an amazing model of Pingu that he made himself. Pingu's that daft-looking penguin on TV. Anthony's another Pingu fan. Myself, I prefer those gorgeous real-life white wolves you see prowling around the Arctic. On telly.
Finlay's really nifty with his fingers. You should see all the fantastic model aeroplanes he's made from kits (things in boxes, not kittens). He paints them and lines them up. They're brill. Michael and Oeda have given him his own little work-station in a corner of the dining room with a desk, a chair and a big strong light. He mixes up all his own paints too. Next we know, he'll be building himself a car. And that'll be great, because he might let me sit in the boot. I love doing that. Though I prefer sitting inside on the seats, not that anyone actually lets me do that. Do kit-cars have boots, anyone?
Mention of kits reminds me... little Loonie is getting to be a real big cat now. Nearly as big as Jimmy. And my tail still goes round in a circle when I see them both. Can't think why.
I can smell food... and I'm starving. Must be grub time. Gotta go. Byeeee
SCOUSER IN KENT; THE DOG'S BLOG
Friday, February 1
Ye gods, is it a month since my last blog?
Yep, it's me again, Tilly-Mint.
My human has been monopolising the computer sending e-mails out to everyone promoting her latest book. Wouldn't let me near it (the computer, I mean, not the book... though, that too, I suppose).
Then when she did leave the machine - and me - to go off chatting to the media, I seized my opportunity, galloped upstairs and into the room where she keeps the computer. All excited, I leaped up onto her desk and logged in. Then, waddya know... I forgot my password. How stupid is that?
After much head and bottom-scratching I decided I wasn't going to let a blooming machine beat me. So I got myself a new password. It's a really filthy one. A word known only to dogs, so my human wouldn't understand it even if she did ever come across it. But that's not going to happen because she'll never get to know it, right?
She's out again this morning and doesn't even know I'm hammering away here at the keyboard. Us dogs are far more clever than you humans think. Or should that be 'we dogs..?' Never was any good at grammar. Takes me all my time to spell. But then what do you expect? We don't spend years and years sitting at a school desk. Street cred, that's what we have. It makes us much more savvy. And I can tell you one thing for sure. I've been round the block a few times so I know.
Yeah, right, maybe animals can't write books like you two-legged clever clogs, though some do. Remember the Downing Street cat... and Roy Hattersley's Buster? Now there's one dog I'd really like to meet. Maybe one day...
Oh no, I think I can hear melady's key in the door. So I'll have to log off and take up my position at the bottom of the stairs, eyes shut, pretending to have been asleep all the time she was out. Gotta dash. See you later. Byeeee
Ye gods, is it a month since my last blog?
Yep, it's me again, Tilly-Mint.
My human has been monopolising the computer sending e-mails out to everyone promoting her latest book. Wouldn't let me near it (the computer, I mean, not the book... though, that too, I suppose).
Then when she did leave the machine - and me - to go off chatting to the media, I seized my opportunity, galloped upstairs and into the room where she keeps the computer. All excited, I leaped up onto her desk and logged in. Then, waddya know... I forgot my password. How stupid is that?
After much head and bottom-scratching I decided I wasn't going to let a blooming machine beat me. So I got myself a new password. It's a really filthy one. A word known only to dogs, so my human wouldn't understand it even if she did ever come across it. But that's not going to happen because she'll never get to know it, right?
She's out again this morning and doesn't even know I'm hammering away here at the keyboard. Us dogs are far more clever than you humans think. Or should that be 'we dogs..?' Never was any good at grammar. Takes me all my time to spell. But then what do you expect? We don't spend years and years sitting at a school desk. Street cred, that's what we have. It makes us much more savvy. And I can tell you one thing for sure. I've been round the block a few times so I know.
Yeah, right, maybe animals can't write books like you two-legged clever clogs, though some do. Remember the Downing Street cat... and Roy Hattersley's Buster? Now there's one dog I'd really like to meet. Maybe one day...
Oh no, I think I can hear melady's key in the door. So I'll have to log off and take up my position at the bottom of the stairs, eyes shut, pretending to have been asleep all the time she was out. Gotta dash. See you later. Byeeee
Friday, January 4, 2008
Scouser in Kent
THE DOG'S BLOG, continued.
Friday, January 4.
Happy New Year, all. Do hope you got some lovely bones and chewies in your stockings. Yup, I did. And Bronson's present to me was a cake... no, not the sort my human would bake if she knew how (even the birds refuse what she cooks!). This was a squeaky toy that I'm having great fun tossing in the air and flying up to catch it before it lands. I'm good at flying. Been copying the birds.
For an old dog I think I'm pretty fit because when it's time for me to go out I leap in the air with excitement and everyone thinks its funny that I can jump so high with all four feet off the floor.
Cod liver oil is what keeps me so fit and well-toned. I have it mixed with my lunch every day and I luuuurve it.
We had a house guest during the week between Christmas and New Year. Joey, the labrador. Everything was fine until about nine o'clock on New Year's Eve when the first of the bangs started and I noticed him quivering in the corner, shaking and drooling with his big floppy ears pinned back. Fireworks don't bother me in the least, but I thought Joey was going to have a nervous breakdown before the night was out. Do dogs have nervous breakdowns? I ignored him (no time for wimps) but my human (Monica) fuss around him and that made him even worse. So she shut all the doors, windows and curtains and gave the pair of us wall-to-wall Wagner. Full blast. Honestly, folks, I don't know which was worse, the fireworks or the music. I felt sorry for the neighbours but when she went to apologise they said they didn't hear it. I reckon they're just being polite. They're lovely, Audrey and Phillip. Always say hello to me and stroke my ears when they see me.
Then there's Sally, the Dobermann Pinscher (that how you spell it?) who lives two doors away. In the summer we chat to each other across the garden wall. Our humans say they'd love to know what we're saying. Well, doggy gossip is private and none of their business so they can just carry on wanting.
I do miss the Scouse accent, though. Still. And I don't come across it much down here. There was one little dog called Duffy, whose owner was a Liverpudlian but sadly Duffy isn't around any more. I liked her and I miss her. I get all nostalgic for those nasal tones.
Hey... what's this I see out the window? Who's the big hairy monster coming out of the house on the corner? Have we a new dog on the block or is he just visiting? Gotta go...this needs investigating. Byeee...
Friday, January 4.
Happy New Year, all. Do hope you got some lovely bones and chewies in your stockings. Yup, I did. And Bronson's present to me was a cake... no, not the sort my human would bake if she knew how (even the birds refuse what she cooks!). This was a squeaky toy that I'm having great fun tossing in the air and flying up to catch it before it lands. I'm good at flying. Been copying the birds.
For an old dog I think I'm pretty fit because when it's time for me to go out I leap in the air with excitement and everyone thinks its funny that I can jump so high with all four feet off the floor.
Cod liver oil is what keeps me so fit and well-toned. I have it mixed with my lunch every day and I luuuurve it.
We had a house guest during the week between Christmas and New Year. Joey, the labrador. Everything was fine until about nine o'clock on New Year's Eve when the first of the bangs started and I noticed him quivering in the corner, shaking and drooling with his big floppy ears pinned back. Fireworks don't bother me in the least, but I thought Joey was going to have a nervous breakdown before the night was out. Do dogs have nervous breakdowns? I ignored him (no time for wimps) but my human (Monica) fuss around him and that made him even worse. So she shut all the doors, windows and curtains and gave the pair of us wall-to-wall Wagner. Full blast. Honestly, folks, I don't know which was worse, the fireworks or the music. I felt sorry for the neighbours but when she went to apologise they said they didn't hear it. I reckon they're just being polite. They're lovely, Audrey and Phillip. Always say hello to me and stroke my ears when they see me.
Then there's Sally, the Dobermann Pinscher (that how you spell it?) who lives two doors away. In the summer we chat to each other across the garden wall. Our humans say they'd love to know what we're saying. Well, doggy gossip is private and none of their business so they can just carry on wanting.
I do miss the Scouse accent, though. Still. And I don't come across it much down here. There was one little dog called Duffy, whose owner was a Liverpudlian but sadly Duffy isn't around any more. I liked her and I miss her. I get all nostalgic for those nasal tones.
Hey... what's this I see out the window? Who's the big hairy monster coming out of the house on the corner? Have we a new dog on the block or is he just visiting? Gotta go...this needs investigating. Byeee...
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