Dear, oh dear. Long time no bark. Mostly my fault, I confess - I was poorly for the first week and tired for the second. I am much recovered now though, and have not endured a serious nosebleed for some days.
I would like to thank ALL the friends - old and new - for their lovely messages on the occasion of my fifth blog anniversary - I felt very blessed to hear from you.
So now I must pay the toll for a lengthy absence - with a backlog of catching-up.
The sorry saga of Edward and Angus (Rottweilers) rumbles on, with no let-up in tensions. Eddie is still keeping to his garden, playing the pained holy martyr for all he is worth. Even a vast dog-fight in the next cul-de-sac (I was NOT involved with those troublesome curs) failed to tempt him out. The local wee-mail posts haven't been terribly helpful either. Most of the ones at my height contain traces of Angus' protestations of innocence, though covered-over by the tittle-tattle of smaller, gossiping, dogs on matters I'm not even going to pretend to be interested in. Higher-up are posts from larger dogs, less-often posted across, and these can be more forthcoming - they seem to contain additional entreaties from the spurned Angus and a variety of remarks, some mocking, some in support of, his case. 'Tis all to no avail, however: Eddie refuses to grant anyone except Milo, his cat friend, an audience. He does deign to bark to me or Archie the Jack-Russell through the fence, but I dislike conversations where I cannot see the other participant, and I grow tired of Eddie's constant bellyaching about Angus' supposed indiscretion. Archie gave up on him weeks ago. If Edward is going to play the fool, he will find it a very lonely game.
Last week I encountered Ewan (empty-headed mutt) and his basket-mate Fizzy (long-suffering black Labrador) at work for the first time since Ewan's wasp-attack. Apart from a few lumps and bumps, and a slight cough, he seemed much recovered. I asked my partner for a piece of cheese (Ewan's bizarre, delusional, obsession) as a gift for him. She had recently purchased some tasty, mature, Cheddar on special offer, so she kindly cut off a wedge and wrapped it in greaseproof paper for me to give to Ewan.
The simple Ewan was so grateful for his present that I thought he might actually start crying. Fortunately he didn't. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, raising up his snout in concentration to savour the flavour.
"Nice?" I asked, as he finished the morsel.
"The best cheese in the WORLD!" beamed my friend, trotting over and planting a big cheesy kiss on my snout. I was delighted to have cheered my friend, though he did still seem a little more subdued than normal. Fizzy clung to Ewan like a Barnacle - no bad thing, as he persisted in gravitating towards the still-active wasps' nest, seeking alternately an apology for their battering of him or their participation in a game of football (the cause of the original assault). I began to wonder how Ewan had survived as long as he did before Fizzy entered our lives...
The events of the rest of the day are somewhat difficult to describe. I know not whether they were more complete farce or pure pantomime. In the end, unable to decide, I settled back and quietly enjoyed the scene.
Firstly, as I barked, Fizzy was sticking to Ewan like a Limpet with additional separation-issues, to preserve his innocent body from the wasps. Unhappily for our happy canine couple, Fizzy was ALSO on heat (having her period). Ordinarily, Ewan delights in the company of his belovèd mate. But when she is menstruating, my friend will do all in his power to hide from her. Fizzy has urges at these times which are as persistent as they are insatiable. Even I hide from Fizzy at such times - and I have never been one to shy away from a lovely lady. Fizzy, in her turn, during her seasons longs greatly for solitude, a heated pad for her aching belly, and a welcome respite from her erstwhile witless husband (until her persistent insatiable urges take hold of her, during which she seeks out Ewan and slaps him 'round the back of his empty head until he capitulates and complies with her desires. Poor Ewan - no wonder he hides). Apart from the times of the urges, Ewan's tender nature compels him to watch lovingly over his sweetheart, lest her periodic torments prove too great. Watching the pair of them trying to outdo themselves in constant attendance on each other - all the while also each trying to evade the notice of the other - gave me the richest afternoon of comedy I had enjoyed in a long while.
I took care to pretend to be asleep when each friend separately approached to entreat my assistance in their endeavours against the other. Wasps be d*mned - Ewan and Fizzy's relationship was a vipers' nest; into which braver souls than I have feared to venture... It was all most wonderfully diverting.
Whilst out in our New Teal Megane with my partner yesterday morning, we had to stop at a junction and I found the car at a halt before me to contain Angus. He was sitting in the boot and, as he turned, a broad grin beamed over his face as he recognised me. Angus was too well-mannered a Rottweiler to jump up in his car and start gesturing to me, but he did try frantically to mouth something through the rear glass. Unable to hear him through the vitreous panes which separated us, all I managed to decipher before the cars were once again in motion was "Drowse wetly." A most odd message. I was unable to attempt a clarification, as his car turned off at the next junction, whilst I continued on my way.
It was only whilst writing this that I realised what he was actually mouthing was "How's Eddie?" Oh.
Well - it's not MY fault that Rottweilers have unnecessarily large lips for their mealy mouths. Had they possessed perfectly proportioned ones - like mine - I would have experienced no difficulty in comprehending him. They have only themselves to blame.