Dogs, Dyson's and Blowing Chunks (The Conclusion)

Yeah, so; Where was I? Oh yeah. So slaughtered I'd couldn't carry on! Anyway .....

So, I have this Dyson Hand Held. And, every night, before I go and lay down on the blackened, grease smear I call a bed, I hoover it. I have to do this, because the Dogs use it as a day bed and so it gets all kinds of grit and shit adhering to it. Laying on a sheet so waxed with body grease that Barbour would consider my recipe a contender doesn't bother me. Trying to get some kip with something small and sharp digging my skin does. So, I hoover (dyson?) the bed.

Now, as ye might know, or be able to imagine; Bed time means bed time, to Dogs accustomed to sharing that unique experience. It means eight hours, hopefully, unabated snuggling down to snooze. Warmth. Comfort. Security. Is it any wonder that they too look forward to it?

In fact, my lot look forward to it so much that they'll often jump the gun, and onto the bed, before I've even had a chance to finish clearing it. That's where Dog can meet Dyson.

Just to recap, for those of ye without one of these fantastic little bits of engineering: This thing sucks like a Train! It really does take No Prisoners. Only, following some doubtlessly well known ~ to Physicist's ~ law of Physics; What sucks in has to Blow out! Hence I sometimes even myself get surprised by the force of the expelled air which might catch me in the face. It comes out the side of this thing like a little Hurricane!

Of course, the filters inside make sure I actually get hit only by clean air. It's just a powerful blast of air. I know that - because I know about these things. I'm a Human Being. We Do know this shit. Hence I might just go, " Phwar! " and forget about it.

Dogs, bless 'em, can't comprehend on that level. Blow in a Dogs face and ~ as just about Anyone reading this shit must surely know? ~ ye liable to get bitten! Dog doesn't give a shit who or What ye are. You go creating a strong rush of air in a Dogs face? That Dog'll react as Dog kind has done since the dawn of Dogdom: It'll fuckin Bite!

Why is that? I've probably pondered pondering this question since I was about four years old. That's when I was sitting there, on a kerb stone (we had kerb stones in those days), communing with " Trusty ". The small, mongrelly concoction of a Dog owned by our corner shop keeper, Mr Mac'.

Fuck me! Look at that: A four year old (unaccompanied and yet unmolested) sitting on a kerb stone? We used to have these genuine, wide, slabs of Real Stone edging our pavements in those days. Moss grew between them. And, here and there, there'd be some White Dog shit! I could sit out there for hours of a day. Perfectly safe and happy. House Sparrows chirruping from every damn roof guttering. Fuck!

And there I was. Sitting there, sharing some thoughts with Trusty. Both of us perfectly happy. Then, for some unfathomable reason, I Blew in his face. Trusty looked uncomfortable and away.

Noting the reaction and curious to explore further, I blew again. His rear, top lip quivered. I saw a bit of wettish, pinky looking lip. This was fun! I could make Trusty do things by blowing in his face!

" Phooof! ". Now his eyes shot me a look and his Whole top lip seemed to curl up. I could see his teeth! Great! Here I am, learning ever something new about my mates, the Dogs. Much more of this and I'd surely know things No One else knew about them and their ways! Another, good, hard blow. Straight into the side of Trusty Dogs averted face.

And we have a Growl!!! Brilliant! Blow, enough times, in a Dogs face? Ye can actually get the most placid and ~ well, 'Trusty' Dog in ye existence to give ye a growl? This was deep learning curve shit for a four year old! What next?

I blew. Trusty 'Blew'. He snapped, " WILLYEFUCKOFF!!! ", so damn fast I never had time to move. Caught me the tiniest nick, just below the left eye. An accidental little graze as he pressed home his heart felt point. Class Dismissed!

I knew I'd been 'hurt'. And I knew that mean't I needed Mum. Across the road to home I went. Now; Please note the following exchange, you denizens of the twenty first century. You kids. People with kids. Even with kids who have kids of their own. Because This is exactly how it went off:

'Mum', I whined. 'Trusty just bit me!' ~ pointing to graze below left eye. " £££ Chi £££ Ching!!! £££ " ? Sue that muvvafukka Mac' for every hard earned penny he has? No.

Call the Police, the Arsepca, the Screws of the World; Have his 'Vicious' little " Dangerous Dog " taken away from him. Have its balls hacked out. Then have it shot full of PentoBarbitone and made into " Complete Diet " before ye can say 'Canine Cancer' ? Hell, No!

A and E? Ring Someone? Report This? Lobby? Start a Petition? Push for a Law against small, local 'Street Dogs' nipping small, local street kids, surely to god? At Least???

Bollocks! In those days, people; We had wide, moss jointed Kerb stones. Those things didn't fit any fucking EU standards in millimetres and uniformity standards. We had flocks of House Sparrows, which we'd feed. And no Rat Catcher ever told us doing so was the cause of the rats which plagued us ~ because we Had no fucking rats! Teddy Boys sewed razor blades under the lapels of their Drape Coats ~ but they weren't fucking Smack Heads.

Christ, I could go Well into one here! Better stop now, before this thing reaches Part 3, just to get to my point.

No. My mum just tutted and asked me; " And what did ye do to Make 'Trusty' bite ye? ". I told her. I blew in his face. And my mum taught me half a lesson that day. She said; " Ye should Never blow in a Dogs face, love. They don't like it. "

She then brought down a little, brown bottle. Told me it was " Iodine " and warned me that it might sting. Put a drop of this shit into a cup of water, which turned brown. Dabbed that onto my war wound and sent me off out to play again ~ a wiser man.


Long time ago, that was. Mum's dead. Trusty's looooong dead ~ of simple, old age. Mr Mac's is long since probably Mr Patel's ~ or a half way house for Smack Heads or 'Reforming' Paedophiles in the community. Me? I'm still hanging on in here. Little nip from a neighbourhood Dog never really effected me at all.

Except that it Did leave me to spend most of a life time, remembering and wondering: Why Did Trusty, finally, resort to snapping at me, after I continually blew in his face like that?

The Dyson cracked it.


See; Dogs have no 'Cheeks' to their mouths. Their mouths are just open gaps, full of teeth, leading to their throats. Purse ye lips and give a little whistle ..... See? Dog can't do that. It has no cheeks.

Now, open ye mouth as wide as he can. Like ye fully, unashamedly yawning. Try to whistle. Fuck it; Try to just Blow! Can't, can ye? And that's because the air, expelled from ye lungs, no matter how forcibly, has no containment and control by cheeks and pursable lips. No more than a Dog has.

Now see this from a Dogs point of view: Dog is born into a world where he primarily meets other Dogs. They sniff, lick, tread on and generally probe about each other. Later they might even demonstrate emotions and ideas by means of stance, posture and vocalisation. Even People may, later, come to do such things to Dogs, to a greater or lesser degree. But that all ties in. Touching, body language, vocal tones. Dogs get the drift of that.

But, never in a million years has one Dog ever Blown at another Dog. Physically impossible happening. Completely and utterly beyond the scope of a Dogs world view.

And that's when it struck me. A life time later. Trusty bit me because he just didn't know what else to do. I'd suddenly gone from a little, his size, sort of 'Dog' Thing ~ as ever he saw the distinction between me and him ~ to some mind bending fucking freak of a thing who, whilst looking perfectly as normal, to him, was suddenly feeding him this weird vibe, completely beyond his own life times experience. I was Fucking His Head Up!

In a nut shell? Sit close to me, tonight, and ye'll likely end up thinking; " This guy Stinks! He's half cut. And he's ..... This guy Stinks! ". But, ye'll recognise me as a smelly, drunken old man. Ye know about them.

I start Blowing on ye? Ye'll probably think; " He's One Sick Old Fuck! I'm Gone! ". But; Ye know about guys like me too, right? Ye mother warned ye.

To a Dog though? Dogs accepting pretty much What Ever form we come in, or evolve into? We're just another phase / form of Dog People. Start that Blowing on them shit though? Completely outside their genetic experience. Dogs growl, bark, bite and shit. They Do Not Blow.

No. To a Dog, anything recognisably living, blowing at it is about as cool and acceptable as a Husky would be, to us, doing what that one did in Carpenters " The Thing ".


Now all I have to figure out is; Why Do they insist on sliding, shoulder first, into that unthinkable shit they've just discovered in that field there?!

Dogs. Ye gotta luv 'em!