Slumber

bed-clipart-dog-5You would not believe what I had to put up with last night, Readers.  It was Saturday night and Young Lad stayed up to watch Match of the Day with He – I find Match of the Day dreadfully dull and rather samey, so I retired early.  Thus it was that when Young Lad came up to bed I was heavily asleep on his pillows which meant Young Lad couldn’t get into bed.  Young Lad dithered around in his pyjamas for ages, asking me nicely to move and suggesting that I go further down the bed so that he could get into his own bed and go to sleep.  I refused.  

A couple of times Young Lad raised his voice slightly and said “come on Russell, please,” but I was having none of it.   It served him right for staying up for Match of the Day if you ask me.  I was completely exhausted and disinclined to move further down Young Lad’s bed – I was extremely comfortable where I had settled.

Young Lad continued dithering around, wondering what to do next, when of course She had to get involved.  This does annoy me intensely.  A hand was firmly shoved under my bottom and I was shouted at to “MOVE IT!!” but I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour, Friends, and threw my entire weight against the bed.  I simply will not put up with this aggressive attitude towards me.  It became a battle of wills, and the harder She pushed, the harder I moved my solid weight against her and She could not shift me.  In the end it took the combined strength of She and Lad to barge me a few centimetres along the bed so that Young Lad could squeeze in so long as he lay right on the edge.  I had to reluctantly accept this situation but I should not have to put up with such treatment.

I’ve had two marvellous walks today down at the river and across the fields – a beautiful autumnal day and really quite mild.  This morning we marched up over Top Field at an alarming rate, due to the lack of exercise for She during the week.  Our march was slowed down a little by the number of molehills that were around – I feel the need to cock my leg on every molehill I see and they had been busy last night.  This really did slow us down and I was moaned at.  I got my own back by having a comfort break high up the field in the very long grass, once She had stomped right back down by the gate.  I had pretended that I was looking at something in the field so She went on a long way ahead, and this meant that She had a long way to tramp back up to find it, and of course because it was in the long grass covered by beautiful autumnal leaves, my comfort break was nowhere to be seen.  It was excellent fun.

Then blow me down, this afternoon we went out again!  Young Lad and He had gone to the cinema, so some more exercise was thought important and off we went again.  This time there were absolutely loads of my friends down there too.  Dear, dear Chuck was over the other side of the field, and feeling quite frisky I ran like the wind to meet him.  Chuck didn’t seem very impressed with my efforts and didn’t want to play, so I decided to head up towards the housing estate instead as I could smell the remnants of roast dinners.  Of course the whistle was blown shrilly and I was summoned back .  Chuck’s Pack Leader said I had very good recall, which was nice of him, but then noticed me snatch my reward from her hand so viciously that I nearly removed two fingers.  Chuck’s Pack Leader then gave her a lesson in how to give one’s dog a treat WITHOUT them snatching, and it was all a ridiculous rigmarole involving turning your hand backwards and closed with the treat inside it, and not letting one’s dog have it until they have calmed down.

Honestly how silly.  I played along with this infantile game for a while and took the treat gently.  Next time I’ll bite harder than ever.

TWICE over this weekend while I’ve been out, people have said “oh look it’s a Beagle, Beagles are gorgeous” which has then been bad-temperedly refuted by She.  Quite why She has to besmirch the good name of my breed at every opportunity, I do not know, and it gets right on my nerves.  There they are, these nice people smiling at me and stroking my soft ears, and all the while hearing about raiding bldy bins, stealing bldy food, ripping up the bldy recycling blah blah blah.  And don’t forget the bldy rolling in fox poo and the bldy anal glands.  Just let them think Beagles are nice, for the love of God!  Would it hurt so much?

My dear friend Ebony is in trouble, as she has been stealing from the kitchen again. This time Ebony has managed half a pack each of Brazil nuts, peanuts and raisins.  To be fair this is quite a healthy feast as the oil in nuts is very good for you, but I’m not convinced things are going to digest very well.

On that note, I found some bright pink spaghetti on the pavement the other night – I believe it was Halloween, as I can’t think of any other reasons that anyone would dye spaghetti bright pink.  I ate it.  It was nice.  Pippa’s Pack Leader dobbed me in, of course, as she was worried the bright pink spaghetti might come through in its original state, and didn’t want any worry that I had some sort of psychedelic tapeworm.  It didn’t.

Lad had a very late night on Friday at a party and consequently failed to wake up until lunchtime today.  He wandered down into the kitchen looking for something to eat a mere half an hour before Sunday lunch was being served – there was a lot of arguing about what he could/couldn’t eat at this point.  Lad settled on a Babybel cheese and a Hartley’s pot of  raspberry jelly.  Neither of which were in the list of suggestions given to him.  Luckily Lad managed to eat his big Sunday lunch as well, and I had a great time in the dishwasher.

Young Lad has completed three pieces of homework this weekend and is exhausted.  He had just about enough energy to sit through a juvenile film at the cinema this afternoon with He, but really this counts as a busy day for Young Lad.  I might even let him get into his own bed tonight.

Well another week is about to start Friends, and I will be shipped off here, there and everywhere. In fact I’m going to dear Pippa’s house tomorrow which will be excellent, but I will pull a sad face just to make a point to my own family.

Bye for now,

Russell

Author: boredbeagle

Slightly stocky beagle who lives with a family. This is She, He, Lad and Young Lad. And Gingercat. Generally doesn't get enough attention and so writes this blog to let everyone know what his life is like. You need to start from page one (First Attempt).. Go on, it's worth the effort.

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