It’s been quite a week, Readers. Various things have happened and they weren’t all my fault. Some of them might have been a brief error of judgement on my part but then don’t we all have those? I will come on to this later.
I was originally going to call this blog entry “Savoy There” due to the amount of fuss that was made when I chewed up a savoy cabbage over the lounge floor. Regular Readers will know that I’ve had trouble with my anal glands lately and I thought some roughage would be a very good idea – in fact I was expecting praise for this healthy and sensible decision. But no. I couldn’t quite consume the whole savoy cabbage – try eating one raw and you’ll see what I mean – so the extra tough bits I had to spit out over the carpet. When She came in from work I was shouted at and told to get in my bed, as I had made such a ‘mess’ – for heaven’s sake it was one small pile of leaves – and it’s not my fault that She had borrowed the Carpet Washer Thing from work the previous weekend and shampooed the carpets. The thing is, Friends, that nobody in my house eats savoy cabbage and it had been purchased on a pure whim, so really I did them a favour by not letting it go to waste. This was totally unappreciated as usual.
Last weekend, Readers, was unusual. I have been dragged for an awful lot of extra walks during Lockdown as you know, including several into town so that we can combine exercise with supporting local takeaway coffee shops. This is important for the economy. Then I am dragged up through the flooded fields as well and it really is too much. Last Sunday we started off on our usual walk into town, which was quite pleasant as it was a beautiful day, stopped for coffee and then a rash decision was made to walk home a ‘more scenic’ way. Two hours later, Friends, I crawled over the doorstep barely able to walk – there hadn’t been a flooded field in sight (I’m now appreciating the soft terrain these provide) and instead the entire two hours had been walked on pavement or paths. No amount of telling me that I’d had a good pedicure and how nice my claws now looked made up for the sheer exhaustion of pounding pavements for so long. Quite how this counted as an essential journey I have no idea, but what I do know is that I slept solidly in my chair all afternoon and hardly even looked up when roast chicken Sunday lunch was served.
And so we come to Tuesday last week. She came in from a long day at work in a foul mood as the car had failed its MOT, whatever that is , and was going to cost a ‘lot of bldy money’ to put right. The garage had given She a courtesy car so that She didn’t have to spend the night at work, but the way things turned out She might wish that She had. Anyway, the courtesy car was a ‘bldy nightmare’ to drive as first gear was nowhere to be found or some such drama, and the mood was tense. Add to this the fact that the washing machine has started leaking due to the seal coming off the metal circle (I suspect this has been caused by Lad’s huge designer trainers going round on spin cycle ) and you can see how things were. Regular Readers will know the never-ending trauma of White Goods malfunctioning in this house.
So the evening didn’t start well. Things did cheer up considerably thanks to dinner and my New Buddy coming to visit, but then events took a Serious Turn For The Worse. My ears have been sore and itchy again lately, as I have yet another ear infection – it’s either that or my backside every week, they take it in turns – and I sat on the sofa clawing at them violently. She found this irritating as it interfered with peaceful TV watching after a VERY vexing day, but thankfully my New Buddy is far more sympathetic and said ‘poor Russell. ‘
Now, Readers, you know that I simply will not tolerate anyone putting drops in my ears, eyes or anywhere else. Having learned from experience, She gave my ears a half-hearted wipe with the ear drops on a cotton pad, but this is simply not sufficient to reach a deep-rooted infection. And so She made an ill-judged move to fetch my muzzle and force it over my head. Look, my ears were hurting. She gave me a chewy treat to try and placate me first, which simply over-excited me. Then a Hannibal Lecter type huge black rubber muzzle was dragged over my face and poked me in the eye. I did what any self-respecting dog would have done, Readers – I made my feelings clear. With my teeth.
It was a very short snap and I didn’t hang on or anything, but I managed to sink my teeth in very deeply to a fleshy part of She’s hand. I knew immediately that I had done a bad thing and ran to my armchair where I looked ashamed of myself for the next two days. But dear Lord, Readers, the drama that ensued.
You know how we do like a medical crisis in my house. Well, blood poured from the puncture wounds (all over the lounge carpet which as we all know has been recently shampooed) and She made a dash for the kitchen sink to bleed into. Once there shock took over and without being ably propped up by my New Buddy, She would have ended up on the kitchen floor which was as filthy as ever and not a good surface for Open Wounds. Readers, I stayed in my chair and listened to all the fussing and snivelling; thank God for my New Buddy who stays calm in a crisis and is also an excellent first aider – really my New Buddy is a dab hand with a steri strip or ten – and to be fair I think that being bitten by me has highlighted the fact that we don’t have a first aid kit in this house. What sort of parenting is that?
In all honesty, once the bleeding had stopped I think the crying could have ceased as well but no, that kept up all evening. She and my New Buddy gave me lots of very stern looks and nobody spoke to me for the rest of the evening – neither was I allowed to sleep on She’s bed for the next two nights. I was relegated to Young Lad’s room.
It’s not easy for me to admit any imperfections in my nature or behaviour, but I will hold my paws up to this one. It was a nasty bite and my Pack Leader didn’t really deserve it as She was trying to help me.
Obviously now there have been several days of milking this injury for all it’s worth and needing lots of ‘help’ with things. I am hoping that She and my New Buddy will have forgiven me before too long as I can’t really remember what I did wrong now. There is some talk of ‘training’ but I will ignore this.
Young Lad had Food Tech last week Readers, but of course he is doing Home Learning due to Lockdown so the Food Tech Practical had to be done at home again. Imagine She’s joy when it turned out to be home-made pasta. Thus it was that after a long day at work, eggs and special expensive flour were beaten together and rolled out as thinly as possible to make tagliatelle. In fact they weren’t rolled out anywhere near thinly enough and ended up slow-worm thickness rather than ribbons. It wasn’t the best in all honesty.
Lad continues to study hard and send irrelevant text messages to She at work. This is rather endearing I would think. There is now the excitement of a family quiz over Zoom once a week which involves quite a lot of shrieking and arguing over whether fig rolls count as biscuits. Don’t ask.
There is also now the bi-weekly entertainment of She taking a Covid test at home – Young Lad and I are a little fed up with all the gagging noises and retching and are wondering if swabbing can be done with less exhibitionism.
Friends, snow is forecast for tomorrow. A lot. This will give us all something to talk about other than coronavirus and Lockdown and should cheer everyone up immensely.
Take care, Friends,