Saturday 18 June 2011

Growwwl...  I mean, seriously.  Growwwl...

An hour and forty minutes it took us to get home from work last evening.  It generally takes around thirty-five minutes.  The reason was some ghastly pop concert, which was taking place at a large open-air venue near to us.  Having been pre-alerted by an unfortunate colleague who was trapped in the traffic, my partner elected (I was not consulted) to take the always-precarious 'through the city' route, as opposed to the more direct journey.  An hour and forty minutes.

Once we were out of the city, I will admit that it was a much more scenic, though still less-expeditious, passage.  It took us past the house to which I was taken after going missing (late October/early November 2009 - look it up on my past blog entries).  I hopped up to see if I could see the dog who had consoled and reassured me at that distressing time, Charlie, but he wasn't at home.  As we went past, the song playing on the radio was Fontella Bass's "Rescue Me".  I observed the irony but did not appreciate it.

There was scant consolation when I arrived home.  No walk for us, as the rain was pouring down in violent torrents, and only the doof-doof-doof-dodododododoooo-doof of the pop concert to look forward to (because of the way the land lies, the sound carries over the low hills direct to my perfectly-proportioned and perky, handsome, ears.  Happily, I still have some of the Milky Bones from The Secretary's generous gift parcel to console me, and my partner let me have two handfuls for being a good boy at work.


I have only had to take my tablets as an emergency measure once this week - which makes a total of, er, once in the past fortnight.  I think it was because I stumbled on a rogue corner of duvet in trying to get myself comfortable before sleep one night and banged my snout on the bedroom wall.  Least barked, soonest mended, however.  The need for medication has now passed over, thankfully, and my strength is undiminished.

My partner's unusual behaviour continues.  Every morning these days, I am greeted by her cheer: "Yayyy!!  Another day of Jasperrrr!"
I find that I am expected to make some sort of response to this, so I generally mumble a sleepy "Yayyy..." or a mere "Yes."  I am not a morning canine.  Indeed, I barely reach the peak of alertness before 10.30 or even 11.30am.  My nocturnal slumber is simply exhausting and I need that morning snoozing in order to summon the full resources of energy for my afternoon nap.  Some people have no consideration.

Good afternoon.