Sunday, 7 August 2011

Sunday 7 August 2011

Three, it seems, is the magic number.

I am the third of my partner's three dogs; in general, my most happy packs have consisted of three members (me, Rex, and Kipper - me, Candy, and Harvey - me, Ewan, and Fizzy); I have had three wives and never less than three girlfriends.

Thus it was in the park on Thursday evening.  In a fit of sneezing, three tumours (actually three and a bit) dislodged from my nasal cavity and were projected across the grass by my powerful snout.  My partner retrieved them and wrapped them up to take to the vets.  It gave me much amusement to note that she had to pick up these items in front of two handsome young men who were playing tennis nearby, hehe...

I wanted to put a photo of what came out here on my blog but my partner said that was nasty.  I put my paw down, reminding her that she had defied me last time.  We reached a compromise agreement.  If you click on the link below, you can see a photo (reluctantly taken by my partner) of the three offenders.  My partner says that I have to warn you that you must ONLY click on it if you want to, because it's "gross".  I think it's brilliant!

Click here to see what was in my head only 15 minutes before the snap was taken:  Hehehe...!

I felt SO much better after the matter had been expelled that I ran around the whole park twice, faster than my partner could catch me.  There was a pretty bitch, who I'd never seen before, in the lower field, so I capered around her more than a few times.  By the time my partner had got near enough to apologise to the bitch and her partner for my rapid approach, I was but a mere white speck in the distance.  Brilliant!

Alas for my Rottweiler friend and near-neighbour, Edward, the number three is slightly less-auspicious at present.  I haven't seen him for ages, though I have certainly heard him.  Little Jack Russell, Archie, from the end of my row of houses, paused at the fence of Eddie's garden the other morning on his way out for his walk, to ask if he was all right.  I was still in bed (Archie is a very early riser, and my partner and I had a few days off from work last week).  I heard Archie's polite enquiry and an aggressive, sweary, snarl in reply from Ed.  I sat up suddenly, as I heard Archie beating a hasty retreat.  This was most unlike Edward.  He was almost never irritable in general, and I was completely unaccustomed to such a level of profanity from him.  I grew quite concerned and, later that morning, whilst my partner did some weeding in our garden, I trotted over to see if I could help.

Eddie refused to show himself, but he did deign to bark with me through his fence.  It transpired that Angus, Edward's fellow-Rottweiler and long-term "significant other" had been on holiday with his partners to Scotland and had returned with slightly more than the customary souvenir tin of shortbread.  Apparently, Angus had a mild Highland fling with a dog called Benji.  Quite why or how Angus had been indiscreet enough to let this slip to Edward - a jealous dog at the best of times - eluded me, but Eddie was understandably livid.  He gave me a long list of torments to inflict on Angus if I should chance to see him, none of which can be decently described on this blog.  I expressed my sympathies and left Eddie alone with his temper.  He DID ask me to apologise to Archie for him, though.

My partner and I are about to enter a bleak period of austerity.  Only a week has passed since payday, with another three to go until our next remittance and, after all bills have been paid, we have £48 left to last us until the end of the month.  Troubling times, indeed.

But, for the time being, we are together, healthy, and - united as we are - we find the courage to face each new day.

A nice summer early-evening in my garden

Good night.
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