Another day, another celebrity appearance.
Last Sunday, my forthcoming presence at the annual Pet Service at my local church was announced by way of an inducement for the general public to attend. Unfortunately, my attendance was announced before the appropriate booking forms had been completed. I was minded to protest, but feel it wise not to tangle with the ecclesiastical folk at present (at least, not until 21 October has safely passed), so I duly pitched up at the appointed time. Actually, my partner and I were a bit late, so I had to sit in between two cats. I struggled dogfully to contain myself, but the mogs were fairly inoffensive and I was able to acquit myself with dignity. I then left my pawtograph in the church record book for posterity. Job done.
I wish my dealings with the hedgepig were as straightforward. He continues to plague me. I saw the fat toerag eating the food my duplicitous partner put out for him the other night, and raced down the path, hoping to have the satisfaction of sinking my teeth into his foul, corpulent behind. Alas, he heard my approach and hauled his tubby ar*e under the gate, putting the wooden posts securely between us.
"Evening, numb-nuts." he said, as I skidded to a halt on the other side of the gate. I snarled at him, but he didn't even have the grace to look a little bit frightened. "How's life in the slow lane?"
"I told you to stay out of my garden." I muttered.
"Just a thought, meatbreath," he continued, "I've noticed that the meals you provide are either turkey or beef flavour. I do prefer the turkey. Could you see to it that I get more of that, please?" I just growled menacingly, showing him the sharp, glittering weapons concealed within my jaws. The impudent gitwizard went on, totally unaffected (which, alone, would be enough to annoy me intensely) by my mounting rage. "Also, the water bowl provided for me is a little too high. See that it's lowered for me, old boy."
"Anything else?" I asked, through gritted teeth.
"Now that you mention it, there is," he grinned, winking, and tiptoeing a bit closer. "Your type is generally only fit for servitude. I'd appreciate it if you could stand by me while I eat and serve me chilled champagne on request. Please don't stand too close while you pour, though. Your breath is rancid and makes my eyes water."
That was it.
"COME HERE!!" I bellowed at the fat fool, who merely snickered, provoking me further. "COME HERE NOW!!!" I hurled myself at the gate and felt the wooden fence and posts give way slightly against my mighty shoulders. The hedgepig abruptly stopped sniggering and scuttled into the hedgerow. I watched him receding into the darkness. He can wait for his battering - I will catch him one day. For now, I turned, lifted my leg and urinated over the remains of his supper. There is his champagne - a premier cru. Much good may it do him.
I sighed as I walked back up the path to my house. I had once thought to make a companion of the hedgepig, learning from him and teaching him much in return. But the old adage holds true: you cannot polish a turd.
And now - dum deedeedum deedumduuuummmm... FINALLY, I post my pictures from my favourite day of my holiday in Wales (from May. Ahem.). My partner says I should be ashamed of myself for leaving it so long. But I didn't want to post them before because I was so looking forward to sharing them that I knew that, once they were posted, I wouldn't have the posting of them to look forward to anymore. Does that make sense? But my partner says I should do it now or not at all. Here we go then:
Jasper's Holiday Diary - Day Four
This was the day appointed for the achievement of one of my chief aims in life: a ride in a boat. All too often boat companies boldly (and unfairly) announce "NO DOGS". But, on our arrival at our holiday cottage, whilst perusing some of the leaflets provided my partner found one entitled "Ramsey Island Cruises", which proclaimed that dogs were extremely welcome on their vessels - hurrah! We duly telephoned the company and made our booking. (This is the company's website: http://www.ramseyislandcruises.net/. They welcome dogs: support them if you are in the area).
On the appointed day, I could barely contain my excitement. We drove to the parking place and walked down to the lifeboat launch, which also served as the starting point for our trip. I was carried in my partner's arms down the lifeboat slipway and our hosts, three engaging young men (one of whom was the grandson of the gentleman who used to farm Ramsey Island) lifted me onto the boat, a noble little craft called the Coral Ann.
The trip was a delight from start to finish. The young men's commentary was interesting and they were able to answer any questions put to them with competence and humour. My partner was a little concerned that I might have been seasick, but I found my sea-legs almost straight away. Sailing was every bit as pleasurable as I had imagined. In fact the only member of my party (which included delightful three-year-old nephew Ewan) to feel a little unwell was my partner's sister-in-law Nicky. Although Nicky was in pup at the time (and still is) and to this we must attribute her queasiness, for Nicky is a game lass and not at all prone to being feeble.
I relished every turn of the waves, every new sight that enchanted me and the very sensation of travelling over the clean sea water. I wanted to sail off again as soon as the trip was done. Witness my joy:
Enjoying the view from my partner's side (she was paranoid about me trying to jump into the water. Happily, I managed to struggle free, hehehe.)
Contemplating a spot of piracy.
Captain Jasper takes the helm! (I look a bit sulky here because I've just realised that we're heading back to port).
Perhaps the highlight of the trip (along with seeing some dangerous sharp rocks called The Bitches) was the dialogue prompted by occasional sighting of a seal. (Apparently, the boys have a regular seal visitor to the boat. They call him Ron. Ron Seal. Hmmmm. But we didn't see him that day). My partner raised the fact that I have often dreamed of engaging in a 'Battle Royale' with a seal. She asked one of the boat's crew who they thought would win in the event of such a fight. The sailor looked me up and down and considered the matter carefully.
"The dog, probably." he said, "Although he'd come away pretty badly injured."
Yes! YES!! YESSSS!!! This was one of the happiest days of my life.
After the trip, we had a delightful picnic in a field and returned to the cottage. I was tired out by my nautical adventure and climbed the stairs to bed with my head filled with nothing but happy memories. I cannot recommend this little boat company and their trips highly enough; it would be a pleasure to return for another little cruise.
That's cheered me up. I'm not even annoyed by the hedgehog and his impudence anymore. Ah, memories - why do they ever fade?