12 February 2012
People have been asking me why am I not blogging as much these days. The truth is my life has become dog bound and to non dog lovers that is pretty boring stuff. Most of my terminology is now dog related and there is a new language in our house. For example, “Watch your butt,” means keep an eye on your sandwich in case Doody sneaks up and snatches it off your plate as she is prone to do. “Hang on to your balls,” I am constantly shouting out to strange men in the park and that’s not only the dog walkers. Doody is a consummate ball grabber. She will grab anyone’s balls. She’s not fussy.
“Ope you’re gonna pay for that,” an enraged woman screams at me when Doody makes off with her son’s football. “Little lad got it for Christmas.” Little lad was snarling and picking his nose – so was the shaven headed tattooed dad. I managed to (eventually) prise the ball out of Doody’s jaws and get her on her lead, then we slunk off quick with the woman’s cries echoing behind me as she tells other park goers. “Eee only got it for Christmas you know, it was his favourite. They should keep their unruly hounds on the lead. It’s a disgrace, can’t even play footie in the park etc.”
My new dog walking friend suggested I should buy Doody some old balls and toys from the second hand shop. Great idea I enthused, but there was a dearth of balls that particular day so I came back with a bedraggled looking Ken. The first thing Doody did of course was bite his head off, but then I suppose he’s used to that. Rumour has it that Barbie’s a bit of a nag, always wanting a new car or a bigger Barbie house. Next thing she rips his jeans off, but I suppose he’s used to that too with that randy Barbie (she’s the one you can only buy from porn shops!!) Doody then tosses him aside like an old shoe and doesn’t want any more to do with him.
Entertaining a dog can be a full time job, but I have a new dog walking friend to keep me company. We actually met in the park and now she comes to pick me up sometimes and even brings us a flask of tea. So I’m no longer a Billy no mates – talking of which, my old maccer Billy Rubin is playing havoc with my kidneys again, so that is another reason I haven’t been blogging much. I have to change meds, a terrifying thought and something I am dreading. Shame, I quite liked Truvada, but apparently it is notorious for causing kidney problems. Swings and roundabouts – roundabouts and swings. Talking of which, it’s time to head off to the park again if I can make my weary old body summon up the energy – looks like I am going to the dogs in both senses of the word!
