" Rats "

Someone asked me, the other night, how my little mongrel 'Terrier' thing, Rats, was doing. As I assured him; She's doing fine. Here's a shot I took twenty minutes ago, just to prove it. Not much of a shot, I know. But, it's blowing wet out there, again. A most wretched and miserable day. Sort that would be seen as a harbinger of Summers end and the start of the Barren Time. Only, Summer's never began here. We've just had this since I can remember.

So, right now, Rats is on my bed, licking. Along with Orange Dog, who's doing the same. le Ding's stretched out behind this chair. Chain Dog's in her cage, fast asleep. The horses, for the record, are in the back of the cow shed, stealing hay. Magpies are in their trap ~ not comprehending what I have in store for them. Oh, don't worry; It's good. Very good.

And I'm sat here. Just checked the post. No shotgun license. No nothing, in fact. Just pissing, horrible weather and me wondering what do do with myself for the rest of the afternoon. Tell ye all a little more about Rats, I s'pose. That seems to be pretty much what I came here for.

I got Rats off a guy on THL. Smashing bloke. Turned up outside my local ~ the usual place for me meeting up with people. It simply saves the drama of them trying to find me here ~ wearing a Flek Tarn T Shirt! So, that won me over to start with! LOL!

Name was Eammon. Only, there's two Eammon's on THL. Both using handles that sound the same in ye head. I can never remember which of them this guy was. Maybe he was " EMac " and the other guy is " EammonMac "? Something like that. One of them brought my Terrier Box down for me. This one brought my Terrier.

Rats isn't actually a 'real' terrier, as it happens. Her dam was got at by a Lab or Springer, or something like that? But, as ye can see, she'd pass for a 'Lakeland / Fell' type in most peoples eyes. Eammon arranged for me to buy her off the guy who'd 'bred' her, after I'd asked for a " Useless " Dog. That is; I wanted a terrier which wouldn't lead to me digging fucking great holes to get the damn thing out of the ground. I don't Do that, as anyone who half knows me would know.

And Rats has fitted that bill admirably. I've never yet known her to show any particular interest in vanishing down any of the many badger setts round here. Even the drains don't hold much interest for her. She just likes to rush about, sniffing and dashing. all above ground though. Perfect. Thanks again, Eammon.

Is she any good? Hell, I don't know! She's simply never really had the chance to show me! Truth to tell; There's damn all around here for her to get at. And that's the truth. Since The Idiot gave up keeping his Concentration Camp of chickens, up there, there's been no rats around my ground.

The few stragglers that did turn up, I swiftly dealt with myself. Thus about the only rat Rats has ever met has been a dead one she's sniffed out. Still handy though. I don't want dead rats about the place and, if I miss one, Rats finds it for me. So she has a value.

Another of her jobs is to keep an eye on things at night. She lives outside, in her own little house - of which she's immensely and justifiably proud. It's the finest little house any Dog in Co. Leitrim has. Made it myself, with much love, care and attention to detail. Lot of people admire Rats' little house.

So, there she lives. In her little house. On her long, light chain. About as happy as a Dog can get, truth to tell. In fact, I've simply never seen Rats looking anything But full of the joys of spring. Even in this, depressing, bone chilling weather.

She'll be out there again, presently. Probably about as soon as she ~ inevitably ~ shits or pisses on my kitchen floor again. Rats is a Dog who simply Will Not be House Trained. Born outside. Lived outside. Learned concrete was a latrine. I have conrete floors. Thus she'll actually come inside to shit and piss.

And that about wraps it up for Rats, for now. Just thought I'd let ye know she's fine and happy here. And I'm happy I've got her. Most amusing little Dog.