Difficult Days

In this photo, Friends, you can see me trying to relax on the garden sofa after an exceptionally hard day. I can’t remember what I’d been doing, but I’m sure it was exhausting. Most days in my life are. But at least it is warm enough to have dragged the cushions out of the shed and slung them on the garden sofa. This bodes well – maybe summer is around the corner.

I have no idea how long it is since I last wrote my blog, Readers, but I do know that several of you have commented on the absence of my thoughts for so long. I’m so sorry. It’s not my fault – Pack Leader has been ridiculously preoccupied with other things and has given Gingercat, Young Lad and I scant attention. It’s a wonder we’re still alive. There has been the usual wittering on about ‘workload’ and ‘doing stuff on the laptop’ all evening, and then at the weekends we are generally at New Buddy’s house. Our own house rarely has a hoover run round it these days, and the whole place is filthy. Don’t look in the corners if you ever pop round – it’s embarrassing. Last night She had to try and catch a very large black spider that was running around Young Lad’s bedroom floor – even the spider looked appalled at the squalor we live in and decided to go round to the neighbours’ house. But hark – what’s that I heard earlier this evening? Yes indeed, it was the forgotten tones of the vacuum cleaner – this only happened because it is tipping down with rain and cricket practice has been cancelled. Otherwise no cleaning would have been done YET AGAIN.

It’s amazing what you can do when cricket training is cancelled. The dishwasher has been emptied, sheets changed, and the ground floor hoovered. Plus Young Lad was cooked a proper meal of steak and creamy mashed potato etc – instead of the usual shoddy fare he is given. Young Lad has taken to cooking his own meals lately, and seems to live by the motto, “when in doubt, cook egg on toast.” I quite agree with him. Though I would advise a large amount of bacon with it.

There is a lot to catch up on. Young Lad is watching Masterchef, and all is peaceful so I’ll fill you in as much as I can. Gingercat has been re-named GingerTwat by New Buddy which I feel is a little harsh, but he really is quite annoying. Gingercat, that is, not New Buddy. New Buddy can walk on water as far as I’m concerned. Gingercat, however, is now even worse at remembering that he’s just been fed, and yowls loudly after every meal, wandering around and asking for his dinner. He has a hideously loud, raucous yowl now which smacks of a cat that has lost the plot. He is sitting in MY chair as I write, which is bang out of order, so I have no choice but to sprawl along the sofa. Honestly.

I am having a lot of trouble with my hip and am not as mobile as I once was. Pack Leader says I probably have arthritis and need to see the Evil Vet for a bldy expensive Xray – but of course She hasn’t had time to take me. There is a small window of opportunity tomorrow evening between meetings, Young Lad’s Maths tutor, and the gym. It’s good to know my needs are prioritised like this. I really do struggle with walking, especially in the evenings and I look sad as I hobble along. Friends, I am getting old. It happens to the best of us . Mind you, when New Buddy shouts, “biscuit” and chucks one out in his garden, I go gamboling out after it like a spring lamb. New Buddy thinks my arthritis is selective. There wasn’t much stiffness in my hip the other weekend when they cooked a barbecue, either. Strange. But I do need to see the Evil Vet as the natural remedy tablets I’m taking aren’t really doing enough, so I need proper drugs. And a bldy expensive Xray. And my anal glands drained again. And a pedicure. Pack Leader is checking her bank account. I don’t know why she’s bothering -there is never anything in there.

Now , you all know how much I adore New Buddy and New Buddy The Younger. They treat me like a prince, rightly so, and give me so much love and attention. I always behave impeccably at New Buddy’s house as I have so much respect for him. Well. I used to always behave impeccably. Last weekend I forgot myself and thought I was back at home, reverting to the abysmal attitude I show here.

New Buddy and She had popped out to look at a car (how dull). I was really annoyed as I like to spend my Saturday mornings going into town to the cafe to meet my fans. I was somewhat irritated to find they went out without me. So I managed to drag a huge black bin liner of rubbish round the garden, rip it open and eat loads of stuff that was inside. This included some out of date, putrid raw burgers. I stuffed them down like a mad thing, then immediately vomited them back up all over New Buddy’ garden. Undeterred, I went into the kitchen and found the big bag of my food. I chewed my way into it, and ate around seven or eight dinners in one go.

All I will say of the next twenty four hours is that I looked very poorly. My stomach was the size and shape of a giant barrel, and my eyes were glassy and glazed. Apparently I looked completely stoned, whatever that means. The smells from my backside and the comfort breaks all over the lawn for the rest of the weekend were something to behold. New Buddy even had to get up early to escape from his bedroom due to the noxious gas. Pack Leader was so worried about me on Saturday night that She debated whether to take me to the Emergency Evil Vet instead of going next door for drinks with friends, but a glass or two of bubbly won.

Eventually, after fasting for a couple of days, I recovered. I would do it all over again in the blink of an eye, Friends.

Lad appeared home late one night recently. As usual he hadn’t told anyone he was coming home, and everyone was asleep in bed, when he let himself in at half past midnight. I didn’t even look up from my bed. What’s the point? She was very cross with me yet again and said I’m a rubbish guard dog, and we could have been murdered in our beds, but it’s only ever Lad! And we know full well he heads straight for the kitchen and the sandwich toaster. Lad headed off to university again the next afternoon – I know, it barely seems worth it – but he and I had a lovely day together before he left. He even took me for a short walk. I love Lad. He is very misunderstood. I wonder when he’ll pop back again.

I loved my trip in the camper van during the Easter holidays – we only had one night away and I feel I need longer so that I can wind down properly. I will suggest this.

She had to buy a car at the weekend, as She’s old one cost £500 a couple of weeks ago for repairs, and there are loads of other things going wrong with it. I’ve never liked it, Friends, and could have told She it was a bad buy. Anyway, armed with her advisor and mechanic (New Buddy) She found a better car. It is all black, and lovely and clean and valeted inside. The first time I was to be in the boot, sheets were draped everywhere to stop my white hair covering the boot with fluff. This took a lot of careful planning and securing. I took no notice and ran (yes ran) round to the passenger door, jumping on the front seats and sat on the driver’s seat. White fur went all over the immaculate interior. I found it very funny. She didn’t.

Funnily enough, Young Lad has just cooked himself egg on toast again. Well done, Young Lad.

Well, the cricket season is upon us and we have managed two training sessions before rain interfered. I have thoroughly enjoyed rushing round the boundary eating bird poo all evening. It is an annual tradition that I look forward to so much. Young Lad has his first match next Tuesday evening, and a whole summer of cricketing evenings stretches before us. I can’t wait. There will be lots of baking in the kitchen, and lots of cake mixture dripping down the cupboard doors for me to lick. Happy, happy days Friends.

Hope you are all well.

See you soon,

Russell

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