It's a dog's life!

Yesterday, I was the Good Samaritan.

Our friend being busy, cooking us a healthy Sunday Lunch, his elderly mother having trouble with her feet, I volunteered to go walkies with Gable, the Batty Border Collie.

Armed with two black nappy bags, to tend to any doggy doo-dahs, I set out with Gable into the streets of the town. Gable and I are old hands at this. I give orders, he does what he likes anyway!

We crossed roads together, the retractable leash cord, tight as a whip, tearing into my tender skin. Fhina's just not cut out for manual work, you see?!

Finally, we attained the pleasant riverside. Green reeds aplenty to sniff about it to his heart's delight, Gable entered the Seventh Heaven for Dogs. We ambled through the trees scattering their leaves, me smiling benignly at fellow dog-walkers, and stopping to allow small children to run their claggy fingers through Gable's fine pedigree fur. Tiny chihuahuas gazed up at Gable as if he were some God of Greek Myth...

Passing the doggy doo-dah bin, I decanted the two filled bags ahoy. Task done, nothing more to take care of than watching the belligerent ducks float gaily by downstream, then return home for a hearty lunch. Result!

We cantered downstream like the ducks, I spotted a path across through the park and we took it. Girl and Dog. My fashionable beige mac rustled in the light autumn breeze.

A hundred yards or so further down the path, Gable decided it was time to go home, and stopped. Dead. Like a ship's anchor.

We turned back. Me reluctantly. He sniffing the verdant grass and then he hunkered down. The silent scream of "Nooooooo" echoed in my mind, and I tried to push him into the bushes. The warning bells telling of £1000 fines for owners allowing their dogs to foul the paths were ringing in my ears...

"It's not even my dog!", I pictured my self pleading to Judge Judy, standing sheepish in the darkened dock...

Too late. I looked about me furtively, and did what I could with dock leaves and other wayside detritus, meanwhile I was watching out for beady-eyed wardens, apt to issue on-the-spot fines to offenders, on such a popular Sunday afternoon promenade.

Scowling at her favourite dog, Fhina walked on.

We reached the stepping stones crossing the river, taking us home, to safety. And me to the Sunday papers. Kneeling to wash my hands in the clear running river, the dog's leash clamped under one knee, to hold him fast, I pictured myself tumbling head over heels, for all to see, returning home drenched to the skin, teeth chattering, chilled to the give-a-dog-a-bone.

Fellow dog-walkers scampered over the stones as if they were born to it, like Chinese acrobats. I decided to take the risk, facing my fears about not being so fleet of foot, head-on! Feel the fear, Fhina, and do it anyway!

I unleashed the beast, who gambled across the twenty or so stones as if I'd been a dead weight, halting his progress. I put one foot across to the first stone, then brought my other leg heavily over to join it. I'd made it! I could do this! Emboldened by my success, I forged ahead, looking at a panting Gable on the other side.

I picked up pace and moved forward, glancing up to see Gable darting back over the stones towards me - Yikes!

I stopped in my tracks as he ran past me, his Basil Brush tail swishing against my coat-tails. The black lab gambolling in the river behind me holding his rabid attention.

At that point, recklessly I thought "Sod it, and let him go play. If he gets wet, it's not my fault!" I forged on. Perhaps if I could make it to the other side, before he caught up with me again, I'd have reached safety and could get him back on the leash.

Before I could sense it, the splashing behind me stopped and Dog of the Baskervilles was heading back my way, bounding past me, and only just avoiding upending me into the stream by a whisker's breadth.

I caught my intake of breath, laughed into the crisp air, and chalked it all up to experience again... He did weight for me on the other side this time, thank God, and we made it home, me like the a James Bond martini, 'Shaken, not stirred'.

It might be a little time before I brave that walk again with Great Gable.

I still love him though!

For the record...

After yesterday's wild ramblings, when I found after the hiatus of not having t'Internet, I went totally postal, and created a too-long post. (I've done it before, I'll do it again, sans doute!) So, I have something which remains to be said from yesterday - A 'For the record...' Meme that follows in a little while - This came from the lovely Lettuce Eating Blogspot! Bless your little green heart, Lettie!



But first I must recount - This morning did not go wholly according to plan... I shall give you a little snippet of early morning life in Crawford Mansions - I'll try to keep it short...

You know that Carma and her son juggle skillfully, right? Well, my 17 year old Grizzles also lives and loves to juggle - Balls, clubs, you name it, he juggles it... (After the recent sad passing of our beloved Zeebookat, he was asking whether we could get kittens, and immediately the furry juggling potential sprang to my mind, and I am certain, his!)

So this morning, I found myself lobbing juggling balls, (soft - And he was lucky his clubs weren't to hand!), towards his sleeping head from the other side of his bedroom; My raucous North Shields' Fishwife voice having been insufficient to raise him from the arms of Morpheus...

His room is small, so it's not like I had to go far to shake him (gently) awake, but his floor was literally littered with assorted vestments and equipment, and I dared not risk my back, picking my giddy way through the debris...



I then went back to bed, to read for half an hour, waiting to ensure he was up, so I kept on calling out from my bed, making a variety of threats and promises... I was becoming more and more exasperated at his lateness, worrying he would miss the school bus, when his low, cornflake-gravelled, voice boomed up the stairs, "What are you on about you stupid bint, I am up!"

I sense another Embarrassing Parents' Episode coming on for Grizz, I do! What I mean is, recently, we found (as do most parents of the teen species) that we were fast becoming an on-call, 24/7 taxi service for the Bratfink!

We were strictly ordered to remain at a safe distance from where he was amassed with his mates, for fear of embarrassing him totally before them... Apparently our hippyesque appearance alone is enough for him to squirm horribly before the children of solicitors, lawyers and wealthy beer-importers! The cheek!

So, my OH decided he would set about some proper embarrassment, like... GJ grew keen to procure a hat that would be sure to offer the opportunity for sheer embarrassment for the child... For a time, a St. Patrick's Day tall green clover-type hat (courtesy of Messrs Guinness) sufficed... After a time 'though, the novelty palled. Then briefly I pressed into service a black and purple felt Witch's hat I usually don at Hallowe'en for the Trick or Treaters... (Well someone has to!)

Eventually, I suggested a la (late UK TV magician) Tommy Cooper (pictured), a bright red felt, tasselled fez. GJ was convinced; An original vintage fez was obtained from e-bay, and we modelled it successfully about the house for a time... Of course, it looks far better on me than GJ, for some reason.

The fez now has pride of place on the back seat of Taxi Number 1, and from time to time GJ steps from the vehicle, usually on the pretext of retrieving something essential from the boot, just as we pull up to collect Ter Griz. Success!


Does anyone know where we can get an original Mexican felt sombrero? I've already tried ebay?!




Number 2 Meme this week (yesterday's bloggy left-overs) goes as follows - You work out your band name and artiste name, by following a number of random steps:

1 - BAND NAME: Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random article” or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random

The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

Result: I am "Clamoxyquine". I like!




2 - ALBUM TITLE: Go to "Random quotations"
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3

The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

Result: "We inherit from our ancestors gifts so often taken for granted... Each of us contains within... this inheritance of soul. We are links between the ages, containing past and present expectations, sacred memories and future promise".
Edward Sellner



Result: So my record is called, "Sacred Memories and Future Promise", which suits me down to the ground, don't you think?


3 - COVER ART: Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days

Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

Of course, when this failed me, I resorted to my trusty Photobucket and found this fitting image of a 'snow bride', which kind of links to yesterday and the bridal theme I've sort of got going now! Stick with it, me loves, I'll start talking sense very shortly...




4 - Use Photoshop or similar to put it all together.

I haven't... Do you care? You do have good imaginations, I know you have!


5 - Post it to FB with this text in the "caption" and TAG the friends you want to join in. (Be sure to tag me, so I can see your creation)

As usual-ish, I haven't tagged anyone - But if you'd like to pick it up, please feel free, courtesy of the hallowed Cat In The Hat!