Thursday, 26 November 2009

Thursday 26 November 2009

Another very satisfying day at work with my partner.

I was even able to contribute to her workload by acting as her "Security Guard" when she went to the bank for her petty cash.  I was poised to attack all the way to the bank, but fell asleep whilst she was inside.  I only woke up when she returned with the cash and got back into our New Teal Megane.  I feel I did a good job.  As ever, though, I wasn't thanked for my efforts.  Ungrateful girl.

Further shades of the pre-Fizzy Ewan revealed themselves this afternoon.  Instead of a game of football, Ewan and I trotted a little way down the Bridleway that begins at the edge of my partner's workplace yard (and which provides the first entrance point into the woods), while Fizzy amused herself with one of her toys.  I was investigating some fresh traces of squirrel and pheasant when, out of the corner of my eye, I happened to glimpse what Ewan was up to further down the path and quickly became fully engrossed in watching him.

All traces of potential prey were cast from my mind as I watched Ewan first sniff at, and then urinate on, a small beech sapling at the side of the track.  Nothing unusual there, you may think, but do not forget that this is Ewan with whom we are dealing.  Immediately post-pee, he turned around to face the sapling, sat firmly down on the ground in front of it, and began to stare fixedly at the small tree.  I watched him for a minute or two; his gaze never wavered.  I couldn't resist it any longer, so I trotted up to him.
"Ewan.  What are you doing?"
"Shhh, Jasper!" he hissed.  "I'm waiting for the tree!"

Oh, dear G-d.  What fresh hell was this?

I sat down beside Ewan.
"What are you expecting it to do?"
"Has your head gone funny, Jasper?" asked Ewan, still not averting his eyes from the sapling.  "I'm waiting for it to grow, of course!"
"Ah. For any reason in particular?"
"I want to do a wee-wee on the top of a really BIG tree instead of on the roots.  Fizzy says that I can't because we can't climb up and it would be dangerous."
"Right.  With you so far..."
"Yes.  So I thought of a plan.  I have wee-weed on this little one and now I am going to watch it grow and it will grow really REALLY big and then I will get Fizzy and tell her that I HAVE wee-weed on the top of this big tree."  He glanced at me during this explanation, but quickly resumed his steadfast meditation at the end.  I wasn't entirely sure what to bark.
"Um.... Ewan..." I began, "How long are you expecting it to take for this tree to grow into a big one?"
"Not sure, exactly.  Probably not that long."
"Right."  I glanced behind us, to the other side of the Bridleway, where there stood several huge, many-limbed, majestic and beautiful beech trees.  "Ewan.  That tree behind us there..."
He looked at it.
"Oh yes.  I like that one.  That's exactly what I have in my mind."
"Er, yes.  But you know that that tree is probably around 300 years old?"
"Oh yes."
"Right.  So it has taken 300 years for that tree to grow so big and strong."
"Yes."
"And this sapling - "
"The one I have wee-weed on."
"Yes.  This sapling, on which you have wee-weed, is tiny."
"Tiny weeny."
"And it has probably taken around 5 to 10 years to grow just to this tiny size."
"Hee-hee!  Not long now, then!"
"Yes. Um... Ewan, look at the BIG tree again." He did. "That took 300 years to grow.  The little sapling is only 10 years old at most.  Look at them both VERY carefully.  How long do you think you are going to be sitting here, watching that little tree grow to the same size as the big tree?"

Ewan flicked his gaze several times between both trees and considered the matter carefully.
"Errrr.... err... twenty-three minutes...?"
"Almost - but not quite."
As I explained the true picture as gently as I could to poor, deluded, Ewan his expression moved from mildly crestfallen to utterly distraught.  His lip began to tremble and I sincerely pitied him as his dream was crushed.

Just then, a violent gust of wind shook the trees in the woods, blowing our ears about wildly.  I was struck - not by a falling twig - but with a flash of inspiration.  "EWAN!" I barked.  "You've DONE it!  Well done, mate!"
"What do you mean, Jasper?" he sniffed.
"Well, that gust of wind has just blown the droplets of your wee-wee from this sapling all the way up to the top branches of that really big tree!  Didn't you see it?  So, now, you can say that your wee-wee really IS at the top of that really big tree!  Brilliant, eh?!"
"Yes!  Yess!!!" he yipped, jumping up and down. "I really did it!"  He charged off back down the Bridleway towards the work-yard as fast as he could, calling "Fiiiiiiiizzzzzzzieeeeeeeee!  Fizzy! FIZZY!!!"
I smiled and shook my head as I retraced our paw-prints back along the path to my partner and comparative sanity.  Good old Ewan.

And now - apropos the grossly disrespectful drawing of me, which appeared on a work notice-board.  My partner retrieved it from the bowels of her computer.  I did not thank her.  For what it's worth:


Don't you even dare to smile.     Grrrrrowl.

Good night.
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