Volume Control

snoring Last night they had to keep turning up the volume on the telly, Readers, as I was snoring so loudly that nobody could hear it.  I was moaned at for this, of course.  It doesn’t seem to occur to them that I was exhausted and needed to rest – oh no, finding it tricky to hear something on Prison Break is far more important.  The volume went up to 18 at one point when my breathing became too much – this woke me up.

Why was I so tired, I hear you ask?  Well. At dear, dear Ebony’s house yesterday I had to walk all the way from Ebony’s bed to the armchair, and then to the sofa.  This was extremely tiring and I had no choice but to sleep heavily on each piece of furniture.  It really was too much.  We’d already had a long walk in the morning – thankfully very uneventful after the events of earlier in the week.  Don’t forget I am looking very slim at the moment, so  clearly all the exercise and insufficient food is taking it out of me.

How I was looking forward to it being Friday night and therefore Slovenly Pizza night.  I’m appalled to say that someone had donned pyjamas before 6.30pm last night – I know! – and there we were, on the sofa with a cuddly fleece and plates of pizza.  (Although someone had scrambled egg on toast as it had less calories, but I was far more interested in the pizza.  I need all the calories I can get.)  Instead of it being a lovely relaxing evening, there was all the moaning about my noise and irritable turning up the volume every two minutes.

Lad was out at the gym during all this, which takes an awful lot of effort at the end of a long week; well done, Lad.  Lad came back mid-evening and shut himself in the other room with a pizza and the Xbox.  This made for a very nice evening for Lad.  I would have enjoyed this too, but wasn’t allowed in there.

I’ve been very well-behaved the last few days, Friends, after the incident in the field with Ebony. I’ve been at dear Ebony’s house every day as Pippa’s Pack Leader is away.  I think Ebony and her family have thoroughly enjoyed having me there for four days and aren’t fed up with me at all.  I did steal a large broccoli stem from the back porch once home on Thursday, which didn’t do a lot for the room fragrance that evening, and my anal glands did leak a bit the other night, but other than that I’ve been an angel.  It won’t last.

I do wonder about Young Lad sometimes.  She asked him what he is cooking in Food Tech next week, and Young Lad said it is sausage rolls; however he is going to make chicken rolls, as he doesn’t like the pastry.  There was a lengthy silence after this proclamation at the dinner table while everyone tried and failed to follow his logic.  Young Lad had it gently explained to him that there will still be a need for pastry in order to make chicken sausage rolls as otherwise he will just be making, er, chicken.  Young Lad didn’t seem convinced.

Then, Readers, Young Lad started telling us about some work he had written that day.  The teacher had asked them to write about a famous person who has shown resilience.  I was thinking proudly oh I hope he wrote about Malala, or Nelson Mandela, or someone like that.  Young Lad in fact wrote about someone called Chris Colman, the manager of Middlesborough football club, who showed great resilience when his team were on the brink of relegation.  I’m not convinced this was what the teacher had in mind but feel sure Young Lad will get a good mark.

As I write I am furiously licking Young Lad’s clothes as he has just been eating some peanuts and seems to have dropped salt every where.  The action of me licking his clothes is tickling Young Lad and making him squirm around – I do wish he would sit still.

I had a nice long walk this morning, Friends, down to the river and along into Far Field.  I was put on the lead several times just in case there was anything unpleasant in which I might roll as they’ve all had enough of bathing me.  There was an unfamiliar dog on a lead – with one of those silly pink coats on – and I imagine the dog was embarrassed about its silly coat as it launched itself at me when I walked past and tried to kill me.  This was unnecessary and annoying.  Further on we met an elderly spaniel and I was so wound up by the recent attack that I tried to kill the elderly spaniel.  It was all very confusing.

There was a fisherman by the river so I let rip at him, to serve him right for sitting so still and silently.  Such intimidation!  Well he didn’t intimidate me, I can tell you.  I thought about nicking something from his bait box but someone shouted “DON’T YOU DARE!!” in a hideous fishwife voice, so I didn’t. 

Grandma rang this evening, and said that one of her friends has just read my book and couldn’t put it down.  This friend also had the audacity to question whether some of the events have been “made up.”  You know, and I know, that not one single event has been fabricated.  She says She wishes  much of it was a figment of her imagination, but it really isn’t. I’ve instructed Grandma to put her friend right on this matter forthwith.

Well, Readers, I’m looking forward to a lie-in tomorrow morning as the ruddy alarm clock doesn’t need to go off at 6am.  There will be some rushing around however as Young Lad has a football match, so there will  be stressy shouting when shinpads/waterbottles/shorts have suddenly disappeared at the last minute but I will try to ignore them.  There was a time that I was taken to football matches – back in the day when Lad played – but these days there are signs saying No Dogs by the playing fields.  I find this hurtful and disrespectful especially near any playing fields that have a burger van nearby.  I used to love the burger van pitches in particular.

Golly I really am exhausted again.  Time for another sleep.

See you soon,



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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: