Tuesday, 3 December 2013


Try and get me out for a walk and its : raining, cold, dark,a bit windy- snowing, a bit Autumny or theres a typhoon looming..its not really happening despite what ideas they may have deluded themselves with, it would seem they will never learn..if I run and face the wall...this still means I cannot see them, ( I am not a rabbit I do not have peripheral vision, so If im not looking at you, simple you dont exsist and I dont have to worry....Oh and when you wrestle me to the ground getting caught in the velcro of my coats tab and when I puff my neck out so you cannot do my collar up...maybe then you will get the message that I am not particually keen on going out for a walk at this precise moment in time perhaps? However... theer are times when I do rather like going out...Saturday mornings TBG takes me for a romp into town to the magic market stall of doggy wonderfulness, ( other wise known as the markets pet store).... so even if ole TBG is really busy and has no plans to visit town I will do the old eyeball sadface thing and adding extra doses of sighing and puffing like its my last day on earth and I have been denied a last meal......eventually he will feel awfuly sorry for me and whisk me jauntilly into town watching me ( the feeble ole lady that I am) jauntilly bounce like a demented kangeroo down the steps in the subway to granny heaven- thus called as old ladies are not very mindful of their shopping bags and never notice ole needle nose sneaking in a big wet snout and rummaging through their shopping bags and trying to snaffle something other than hemorrhoid cream. The pet stall...a nose explosion of smells and visual delights..well smells anyway Ole bum face tends to gag at the smell of dried tripe and piggy lugs, I dont think shes ever smelt her own breath in the morning somehow: It is a doggy sweet shop and TBG gets me a pick a mix in a blue bag, we then walk home with me glancing expectedly at him expectly, willing, hoping that the bag will explode on the way home and I can snaffle it all up before it hits the floor..failing this happening I get home as quickly as possible beacuse the quicker I get home, the quicker I get a piggy lug- no time for idle chit chat with himself gassing to old people about how lovely I am and that I am retired blah blah blah..I am like a toddler who has been told that the tooth fairy, easter Bunny and Santa are awaiting at home to throw me a party...BOOOOOM... sprinting up the road, ploughing small children and slow walkers out of the way , hurdling over pushchairs ( yes those thatwalk 2 abreast chattering oblivious that theers any one behind them...Home is where the piggy lug is and thats where I am going as quick as possible!!!!! Once home TBG is frisked until I am given my reward... I then have to chobble and mush it into the carpet and show them all my party trick where I pretend I have eaten it whole and have it stuck in throat and have to retch retch, ack ack ack....until It shoots out like an oyster on someones foot..then it gets rerubbed into the carpet before being demolished ready to be recycled and emitted as a toxic room clearing gas about 30 minutes later. The other place I like to go which you already know is the beer church...they have a new one called the Weavers, small and serves real ale, no lager or spirts which is great as it means only old poeple like these two go and we all know old people tend to drop more food than greedy kids..so more for me..and they have a big squishy squashy sofa for me to roach out on..oh and a table that I like to dance on in the hope that people will see how cute/thin/funny I am and reward me with bar snacks( ok so i look like Bambi on ice- it works)

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