Sunday 17 October 2010

In a rare departure for all things concerned with my "Little Jasper" - I am afraid that they just weren't big enough.  Hehehe...

I refer, of course, to the napkins forced upon me by my partner who - for some unknown reason - took exception to me downloading fresh wee-mails into our bed.  The tiny napkins were donated to one of my partner's colleagues, whose wife is anticipating the birth of a child any day now.  I thought that was it... until a second pack of larger-sized napkins arrived.  Bah!  These ones were patterned with some gaudy cartoon "bees".  I wondered why humans decorate their napkins in such a fashion - perhaps it harks back to the primitive cave paintings of pre-historic times...?  At the end of the day, however, the items to which I refer are merely nothing but (forgive my crudeness) p*ss-pouches; so why go to the trouble of decorating them with cute imagery?  It's beyond me...

Unhappily, this second type of napkin fitted me very well.  However, I soon realised that a complex system of squirming and kicking resulted in the failure of the napkin to seal itself properly, thus enabling me to swiftly remove it myself when my partner wasn't looking.   I was extremely pleased with my powers of reasoning.

Alas, my wee-mails betrayed me.  Just a few nights ago, whilst my partner was recovering from a particularly unpleasant viral fever, she suddenly awoke in the night to find me widdling not only within the bed but also all over her hand.  That night's napkin lay neatly folded and dry at the end of the bed, where I had carefully placed it after removal.  To say that my partner was not amused would be to grossly understate the matter.  She attempted to re-position the napkin.  I bucked and kicked like an irritable Spanish donkey confronted with a load of ignorant tourists from Florida.  Eventually, my exasperated (and slightly damp) partner threw the napkin at me and put me from the room.  Attempting re-entry, I found that the door had been barricaded shut.

So I went downstairs and, just to spite my partner, pee-ed all over my armchair.  That taught her!

Actually, it didn't.  She was very VERY cross.  Now, when she is next due to be paid, she is going to buy the special canine napkin system for nights, from which I will not be able to release myself.  In the meantime, her mother has supplied a rubbery-plastic sheet to put under my side of the bed.  I was minded to attack it, but then my partner's mother informed me that this is the very sheet that my partner slept upon when she, herself, was a newborn.  My partner said that somewhere, lost deep in the very dark recesses of her psyche, she can remember the feel of the sheet and what it was to lie upon it.  I find that it is not uncomfortable, so for this reason, and its historical importance, I will tolerate it.

Right then.  The kittens.  I am delighted to be able to report that they have ALL, each one, found good homes.  Though not before a little mystery swirled about their sweet infant selves.  At the first attempt, two of the three kittens were captured and re-homed.  One went to a friend of one of my partner's colleagues.  The other went to another colleague who occupies the desk adjacent to my partner's.  He named the kitten 'Oscar' and is very pleased with him - apparently, wild little Oscar had got the hang of his litter tray and was purring and sitting on laps after a mere 48 hours or so.

We were somewhat mystified, then, the following day when on entering the work-yard two kittens were sitting on the haystack, blinking back at us in the early morning sunshine!

Everyone had a theory as to what might have happened.  Well - apart, as may be supposed - from Ewan, who got as far as the word "cheese" before he had to go and have a lie-down.  Ultimately, the various photographs taken of the kittens in situ were examined more closely and this provided our answer.  The late queen had not delivered, as had been thought, three kittens - she had given birth to four.  Upon her death, the bravest and most hardy kitten had been regularly sallying forth to procure food for his weaker litter-mates.  That is why, during the daylight hours, we had only ever seen three kittens together - although there had always been four.  Four very lucky kittens, now safe and warm in their own houses, thanks to the diligence and care of my partner's colleague.  I am glad that this story, like the heart-warming tale of the Chilean miners, has had a happy ending.

Barking of happy tales (or, indeed, tails) - I must explain, if I can, the continued absence of the next instalment of my biographical series "The Evolution of Jasper".  Be assured, that the episode is well under-way.  It's just that I was in my element when detailing the exploits of my friends - Kipper, Rex, Rats, etc. - in the dogs' rescue home, and now those reminiscences are over...  In addition, despite the fact that it will soon (this week, in fact) be ten years since I came to live with my partner - TEN YEARS!!! - I am still deeply ashamed of my behaviour in those early days.  Oh!  The things I said and did...

If you thought you have read accounts of my naughtiness in previous blog entries, then NOTHING will prepare you for the relation of my shameful conduct when I was a young pup in turmoil - the things I said and did in order to punish my partner-to-be... the young lady and her family who had adopted me... I cringe now, in merely alluding to it.  It has been many, many years since my partner forgave my inconsiderate actions.  Whilst she is clear with me that she understands why I behaved as I did and has ceased to blame me, I confess that I fear the reaction from You, dear reader.  Yes, YOU.

My partner says that it is important that I share these accounts with you, so that you can appreciate as she does the various life-stages that have made me the dog I am today, and why she loves and values me so much.  This, in itself, provides some comfort.  But I am utterly ashamed of myself for what I did to my partner in those first, difficult, weeks.  I am prepared to post the next instalment.  But I now beg that you will not judge me too harshly and thus withdraw your affection from me when you learn of the things I did...  I can bear everything except the scorn and indifference of those whom I value.

For now, then.

Good night.