Saturday 14 May 2011

The ugly spectre of extreme substance-abuse casts its dark shadow over our household.

The fault is mine, I confess.  I have grown fond beyond rationality of Sainsbury's Milky Bones (a cheapo version of the Pedigree Milky Bones) dog biscuits.  I must have them in the morning, in the afternoon, and even after I have finished my regular supper I am instantly upon my partner, imploring her for more of those intoxicating biscuits.

My partner has endeavoured to reiterate to me our present financial difficulties, but I heed her not.  In fact, when she speaks thus, I often find myself plagued by the sporadic deafness, which has begun to mark the achievement of my agèd years... The fact that this affliction often coincides with an occasion in which it suits my purposes is naught but random happenstance...  Needless to bark, my partner is far, far from being impressed by "my attitude".  Especially, she tells me, as our circumstances cash-wise, have been very bleak indeed.  I am encouraged to "curb my obsession" with the Milky Bones.  Poor girl.  Clearly delirious from worry, she has forgotten to whom she is speaking.  A pity.

Now then.  I am not a man of poetry.  I tried to compose an ode to a young angel who appeared to me in recent days, but ended up hurting my brain.  So I did what any respectable Staffordshire Bull Terrier would do - I nicked one off the internet.  Here is our:

ODE TO FIONA



The world's a better place
Because of folk like you
Who take the time to do nice things
The way you always do.

Thank you so so muchly

 

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The troubling affairs emanating from the household of Eddie and Angus (Rottweilers) and the hapless, beleagured, Pickle (Salamander) have yet to reach a crisis-point.  But, rest assured, that moment is coming soon - and when it arrives your crafty canine correspondent will be first with the news!

And now - for 'tis long overdue:

PART THIRTY-FIVE

Please see http://jasper-thedogsblog.blogspot.com/2011/01/sunday-2-january-2011.html if you wish to catch up on the previous instalment.

My partner and I continued to grow in our mutual admiration and respect for each other.  Through the simple offices of merely being my original self and allowing the character with which I was born, I endeared myself to all.  I also began to appreciate how pretty my young partner was - and how fortunate I was in being selected by her.  No other human could ever have suited me better.

On one particular evening, my partner and I were walking again in the local park.  We exchanged a wry smile in the twilight and my partner patted my head.  I had learned not to take myself too seriously, now that I was secure of my place within this new "pack" and could laugh at my earlier mishap with the cricket practice-nets.  As we neared the car-park, my lead was clipped to my collar and we approached the large iron gates at the park exit.  At that very moment, a voice hailed my partner from the far corner of the car-park.
"Hello?!"
We turned, and saw a rather handsome-looking (in my partner's estimation, at any rate) blonde-haired man, getting out of a car.  My partner called back to him and asked if he was alright.
"Yes thanks!" he replied.  "I was just thinking what an unusually fine-looking dog you have there!  What breed is he?"  My partner took a few, hesitant, steps towards him.
"Um... a Staffordshire Bull Terrier." she told him.
"Sorry...?" he called, cupping his hand to his ear.
"A Staffordshire Bull Terrier!" She cried back, taking a few more steps towards him.
"He looks like that dog in Oliver!"
I groaned - already well-aware of my likeness to the fictional mutt and MORE than tired of being told of it by random strangers (an aggravation which occurs to this day).  My partner didn't reply, merely nodded, and made to turn and go.
"I was wondering where you got his collar from?!" shouted the young man hastily.  I frowned.  My collar was perfectly normal; a nicely-patterned navy-blue woven synthetic-thread affair.  Nothing out of the ordinary.
"Erm... the vets'!" called my partner.
"Sorry...?" called the stranger again, cupping his hand to his ear once again.
"The vets'!" shouted my partner.
"I still can't hear you!" called the man. "Could you come a bit closer?  Your voice is so soft!"

This was the point at which I began to grow uneasy.  I started to mutter about needing to go home, but my partner had not yet learned enough of my sounds to be able to accurately interpret me, as she does today.  I sensed that my partner was feeling uneasy also - she did not move any closer to the young man, but it is not in her nature to suspect everyone; particularly handsome young men; of being up to no good.

"You don't happen to have the time on you, do you, love?!" shouted the young man.  As I took another, disdainful, glance at him I spotted that he was wearing a wristwatch...

"We're going." I barked firmly.  And, with that, I turned on my paws and dragged my partner out of the park.  I was so strong in those days that not even a full-grown human could defy my strength when I was determined on a course.

After a few last shouts, we heard no more from the young man and were relieved that he did not dare to follow us along the much-used public road.

Once home again, my partner breathlessly hugged me and held me close.  Yet again, it seemed, I had protected her from serious harm in the park - only, this time, from a genuinely potential threat.

Next episode - our unity cemented forever; I return to unpleasant kennel-accommodation; and a "Little" problem...


Good night.