Little Dog Lost .....

 Bit fucking sad, this. And an almost freaky fluke, I think, into the bargain .....

 See, last night, le Ding happened to have an upset stomach. He was throwing up. So, I decided to do something I've simply never done before. I put him out on his Food Chain. Left him out there, over night, to get it out of his system.

 Woke up to his shouting. Mostly he was shouting for me to come and get him. Then, he had a shout to tell Pat' to fuck off. Pat' being at the other end of the track, seeing to his cattle up there.

 But, there it is. A one off. And Dinger having a shout to himself. I was out there now and he'd stopped shouting as I generally minced around the compound, getting my shit together for another day.

 Then, I did another odd thing. I simply didn't bother to put Rats on her chain. Rats lives on her chain all day, see. She's given to either fucking off in search of adventure. Else coming in here for a shit or a piss. 

 Born and raised in a concrete floored pen, see? Thinks concrete's the place to do it. And my floors are concrete. 

 Anyway, so le Ding's been shouting much of the night, I suppose, and all morning. And now, I'm going down to feed the horses, leaving the bottom gate open so that The Orange Dog can wander out behind me and mince about a bit herself, out there. As she likes to do.

 Gone into the shed. Fed the horses. Just coming out when, even as I turn to lock the door, it kicks off! Rats has gone screaming up the track, towards the outside of my front gate. My mind's just had time to register this image of a strange little Dog, just bigger than Rats, and all hell's letting loose!

 Little Dog had obviously been standing outside my gate all along. Rats had spotted it and steamed in. Orange Dog automatically taking up the chase. And that's the last I saw of the new Dog. Racing hell for leather up the track. My two in hot pursuit.

 Thankfully, no one had been walking down the track 'behind' this Dog. Otherwise the Sausage would've run straight into them and a Bite Fest would've ensued.

 But, as the two Boarder Repellers came trotting back, well pleased with a job well done, it was all panning out:

 That little Dog was a 'Drop Off'. Some cunt had decided they didn't want it any more and so had tossed it out along the road and sped off. It's done quite a bit here.

 So, poor little mite, wandering around with its heart breaking. Lost and alone in the dark. Hears le Ding shouting. Thinks company could be a good thing and makes its way down the track, towards the sound of Ding.

 They figure, see, that That Dog must have someone to care for it. And maybe the same person will care for them too. Dogs are a million miles from stupid, ye know?

 And, having probably found its way down here look, in the dead of night; It's stood there, patiently and obediently, outside my gate. Showing the good manners not to try and find a way in. But, simply waited to see who came to look over it and if they'd smile and talk nicely. 

 And what fucking happens, look? Probably the one day in my life I break my routine and Don't put Rats straight on her chain. And she chases this poor little sod half way to the next county.

 Orange Dog's good with other, smaller, Dogs. She'd have just played with it.

 Oh well. Must be something to do with fate, eh? One night a lost little Dog waits at my gate. One day I let Rats go running off. 

 Hope someone takes the little bugger in.  

Did It Taste Like Chicken ....?

 I really have no answer to this one. I swear to god. This is the fuckedest thing I've ever come across. I imagine I'll take this one to the grave.

 Let me just point out that I really do live in isolation. I'm at the end of a one way track. Six 'visitors' a year here would be exceptional. That would only be people approaching my gate though. 

 As it happens, I did have some Tree Surgeon guys down here, about a month ago. They dropped some of the Sitka Spruce trees in Pat's fenced in stand, across the way from here. But that was a month ago and they just came and went.

 I mention that specifically because it's that sitka stand I'm going to talk about. I'd also just mention that I've had extremely extensive experience of playing detectives with some pretty hectic stuff, in the countryside. I'm used to it. But, this ....?


 I'm down there then, this afters, inside this fenced in enclosure of spruce. I'm looking for birds nests and Orange Dog is tagging along behind me. Innocently sniffing about and seeing what's to see. 

 Not that much, to my mind. Goldcrest was still tight on her nest. That's nice. Then, even as I tried to lead Orange Dog through the easiest path back to my new style, I was tapping the rushes and shit and out came a Willow Warbler!

 Fantastic! I shoved my stick in the ground, marking where she pretty much came out from, and started searching. But, I soon realised I was as likely to tread on the nest as find it. I'd need to flush her again, tomorrow. And what the fuck was The Orange Dog up to now ....? 

 Sausage was stopped, a few yards away. She had her face buried in the ground cover and appeared, for all the world, to be eating the ground! I wondered if she'd found some nest and was scarfing down the contents ....! Fuck, No!!!

  Called her, and she ignored me. Went over there and told her to get her face out. She still pretty much ignored me. She was definitely biting at something beneath the surface level.

 I looked and could see an area of creamy coloured something. Six inches by one? Pretty obviously a tree root then. But, why was she so manically biting at it?

 I got my fingers in there and raked at it with my nails. This didn't feel like any fucking tree root! It was softer. But firm. Yet yielding to my nails. Fleshy .....

 Some sort of fungus? Better get The Sausage out of here then. No telling What she might be eating, if it's a fungus. Then, having done it so often, through the decades it's now part of my automatic testing for strange shit; I sniffed my finger tips .....

 Clean, fresh, roast chicken!!! It smelled like fucking chicken! Not month old. Buried in the ground. Tree Feller didn't want That in his sandwiches Again. Now Orange Dog's dug up what he buried amongst these trees no cunt ever goes near ....?

 No. This smelled just like the fresh chicken sandwiches I'd had to eat, hours ago, in town. And I'd washed my hands several times since eating those. And fresh, cooked chicken smells a world away from rotting chicken. I know about these things ....!

 Going back tomorrow. Find that Willow Warblers nest. We'll ring the young, in due course. Really not sure I even want to go poking around with what ever Orange Dog found though. Fucking freaky!
 
 

Scrotum .....

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Don't Disrespect Ditch's Doorpost ....!

 Or You Will Be Fucked Up ....!

 I've just spent the afternoon making nest boxes. I stopped, to feed the Dogs and horses. Then, I took a measure of The Hard Stuff, just to ease the path toward finishing todays five.

 All done, I popped in here to put my working glasses away and pick up my pot of shrapnel, which I intended to count into my tins. And that's what I was concentrating on. Separating 20's, 10's, 5's, 2's and 1's. 

 That's hard work, without my working glasses, which I'd stupidly taken off seconds ago. Thus I was concentrating while straining to see the coins. Barely registering the high pitched squealing, behind me.

 It was that perculiar chop smacking that bull blooded Dogs tend to do, when they've just savoured a bite, that caught my conscious attention.

  I turned around to see that Orange Dog had seemingly just finished what the bait had started.

 Nice work, The Orange Dog ~ An oldy, but, a goody!  This fucker's paid the price of coming in here, fucking with my shit.

 Of all the doorposts, in all the cottages, in all of Eire .....

 

Can't Keep A Good Ding' Down .....

I so love le Ding! Apart from his divine, furry ears, which lend him such character even when he's having a kip ..... 

And his mad habit of being 'Untouchable' ~ crazy fucker'll walk all over me, to greet me, when I wake up. But, rub his head in return? He'll as likely growl at me!

 Quite insane then. As all my Dogs are. I make them that way! LMAO! It's not difficult. I'm their only social stimulus and I unconsciously reward strange behaviour. Makes my little team more interesting as individuals.

 le Ding though has had to learn not to fuck off. He'd be shot ~ and bring all manner of hell upon all of us too ~ if he ran off and got amongst the cattle, obviously. 

 As much as that though, he once developed a taste for dashing off, at the first opportunity, and racing off up to The Idiots place.

 Vanished for two or three days, last winter. I'd about given up on him. Then The Idiot called to say he was up there. Seems he'd been found 'laying dead' on a mound of snow one morning.

 Idiot did something like approaching the 'Dead, starving' Ding and le Ding demonstrated that he had other ideas. Jumped up off the warm compost heap he'd been having a lovely kip on. Probably gnashed his teeth and fucked off out of reach. Sound Dog!

 Anyway, that was last winter. I've been working on his head since. Now? Now, every night, I let the four of them out, last thing. Chain Dog waits in her cage, of course. But, the fucked up four all get to pile out the door and piss all over the place out there.

 No leads. No telling much. I just take the opportunity to shine the CluLite about. See if there's anything to fetch a gun for. Then they generally go back in, of their own volition, when they're done.

 Once The Orange Dog goes back in ~ she's always last, because she's oldest and has more to do, more slowly ~ I send them all into their rooms.

 That's to say, I usher them into the back room. Then I join them in there and send Orange Dog into the Back back room. I lock her in there. Two locked doors between her and Chain Dog, see? Then I let Chain Dog out and so on.

 Tonight though my guts fucked me up, even as the Dogs were out there. I'd counted the first three back in here. So, I shut the back door and raced a photo finish to the ditch.

 All done, head cleared, I came back in here, fetching The Orange Dog with me. Nigger and Rats were fucking around in the kitchen. No Dingo.

 I checked in here. Chain Dog in her cage. No Dingo. My heart gave a lurch. Had I counted him back in here? Or, in my distraction, had he slipped away in the shadows ~ as he's so good at doing ~ and gone off in search of adventure?!

 One last thought: Had I shut the door to the back rooms ....? I strode over and looked. Door open! Dark room beyond ..... Please, god ....!

 I switched the light on and grinned like a cunt! There's le Ding. On his window sill. Peering round the wall as much as to say; " OK, Dad? You gonna put Orange Dog in her room now? ".

 Fucking bless him! Damn Dog's So good, he not only brings himself in, after his night time piss, but, he even knows to go into the back room and sit up in his window sill, where he likes to be. 

 And there he'd sat, look. All on his own. In the dark. For five minutes. Untold. I wasn't even in the fucking building!

 I'd like to scrub his ears and kiss his furry head for him. But, he'd probably take my face off A Dog made in my own image then ..... Quite mad.

A Moment With The Dogs .....

 Was vaguely aware of some movement there. The distinctive rhythm of lapping confirmed it. Orange Dog had got up from my bed and gone to the bucket of fresh water for a drink.
  
  That action caused me to glance over my shoulder, just as Rats went over to see what Orange was up to. Rats glancing up to meet my eye. " Just checking on The Sausage, Dad. "

 I glanced, in passing, at le Ding. Seemingly fast asleep in the bed. But, he was aware of all that was happening here and gave a tight wag of his tail to let me know he knew.

 I looked over at Niggy. He sort of looked back at me. Through the heavy film of a 'sleeping' Dogs eye. He was probably dreaming of the Orange Dog going for a drink of water. Rats checking what she was doing. le Ding knowing. Me glancing around, to check. 

 Now The Sausage is back on my bed. Fast asleep. le Ding has since got out of 'The Bed'. Nigg's got in. Then, Nigger's got out of the bed and gone to My bed. Rats, who'd sat scratching, has gone to join Nig'. le Ding is snoozing, on the floor, beside me. I haven't even looked at Chain Dog. Fast asleep in her bed. In her cage. Snoring like a tank.

 Soap? Who needs it, when ye've got Dogs?!
 

How Do Dreams Work ....?

 No. I don't need any 'Interpretation' shit here. Don't care if ye a crystal clutcher or a qualified, Freudian fucking analyst. I'm not interested.

 But, I had a dream this morning which raised, once again, a question that's bugged me for some years now. It wasn't the style or content aspect. It was how it ended and I woke up.

 Bear with me a bit here then and I'll try to explain, so's better to frame my question:

 So, I'm with my bro', right? We're walking down some road, somewhere. We'd actually been doing plenty of other shit before this point. But, ye know how dreams are. They make little enough sense and tend to pop from one situation to another. I'll start with this relevant stage.

 There's this guy in front of us. Trouble. Guy's ye typical Portsmouth to Glasgow fucking lunatic. Half cut. Staggering. Muttering threats around himself.

 Then, we pass this other idiot, laid out on the wayside. He's got a bottle in his hand and is no better shape than the first one. This cunt gets up and starts following us. It soon becoming apparent that these two are a pair.

 Okay. Now, what I really told ye That much bollocks for was to give ye some sense of time scale. Right? Like, we've followed loon number one for long enough to walk past the other idiot. Now we're walking between the two. 

 Walking. Taking steps. Five steps has got to take a few seconds, right? So, how about we say this dream sequence must've taken five to ten seconds to 'see'. Hold that point for a moment, please.

  Then ~ as dreams go ~ we're walking down a crowded street. First loon's still in front. Cunt behind us has, some time since, smashed his empty bottle and is carrying the neck end. Very nasty looking piece of the rest sticking out from his fist.

 I'm aware that he's armed. I've spotted the broken bottle in his hand. I can hear him growling his bollocks as we all stride down this street. And am pretty certain he's gonna blow, any minute, and come at my Bro' or me.

  Bang! He's made his move. Lunged forward and, in a split second, I'm aware of this vicious length of broken glass about to make contact with the skin over my necks carotid artery.

   In the next split second, I've grabbed for his wrist. I'm gonna break this bastards arm, even as I kick his fucking lungs out!

  Only, I'm awake now. I always wake up like a light switch. And Orange Dog has just stretched, in her sleep, poking her legs out so that one of them brushed my neck ..... Thank god I only snatched her leg!

  Now; What the fuck gives there, eh? Even without all the preamble I haven't mentioned, I must've been dreaming this dream for over five seconds, extreme minimum. Probably more like a couple of minutes or so.

  And, the sense of if was that it was gonna go off. We've been walking between these two lunatics for at least ten strides. Probably a lot more.

  How the fuck come then that this whole scenario was set up, inside my head, for double figure seconds and came to an obvious and predestined conclusion; 

 But with the finesse that even the exact physical point of target ~ right side of my neck ~ should happen to be where Orange Dog 'later' touched me?

 Orange Dog wasn't in my dream. She could hardly have been dreaming my dream. She was herself simply fast asleep and stretched her legs at a given, exact, moment to coincide with my dream.

  I'm sure ye've all experienced similar stuff before? Someone knocks ye door at 'the right moment' to fit perfectly into a dream that would take minutes to act out?

  How the fuck does this happen? Do our dreams know the immediate future of what our sleeping Dogs are going to do? 

 Or, does our brain manage to concoct a whole fucking scenario around a Dog thrusting a foot out ~ then play the whole, involved story to our minds eye in that millisecond before we have a grip on that foot? 

  Do You know? Cos I'm fucked if I do!


 

Yes; I'm Still Alive .....

After a fashion, anyway. Just waiting to come out of hibernation, really. Looking for the compulsion to get out of bed before it gets dark. Of course, to do that I'd really need to get into bed long before it gets fucking light!

Not doing too well at that, right now. Back to 'working the night shift' again. Haunting the internet and supping weak beer till god knows what hour ~ 05:00 about now. And here I am, look; Determined to yet amuse myself. If not you lot.

Never mind. I'm feeling perfectly fit and healthy. The cold couldn't do away with me this year. Now it's just back to the rains again. Don't mind that. I've even carried over a trick or two picked up during the 'best' fucking freeze I've known since coming here. Christ, wasn't that a harsh one?!

Rats need sorting out round here now. Typical, isn't it? When I used to work on Building Maintenance I soon learned why ye average Builders house was the most wrecked in the street; Because the poor bastard spent his entire fucking life looking after some bastard else's property. Last thing he wanted to think about, when he got home, was starting all over again in his own time.

That and the fact that mine tend to stay their distance now. Funny how they seem to have passed the word around; " We're generally alright, out here. Risky if we get too close to his cottage. Go in there? That bastard nails ye quicker than ye can say 'Shit!' "

Don't know what's happened now. Cold killed the wiser ones off? I know I didn't. Couldn't be arsed. Too busy trying to survive myself and look after the birds. But, I've just been through my kitchen, for the umpteenth time tonight. Found myself picking up some scrap of scrunched up paper that, I'd swear, wasn't there an hour ago.

Could've been the Orange Dog. But, then; Orange Dog seemed eager to get out there too. Would ye believe, the Orange Dog ~ my frighteningly gray faced little love of my life. Centre of my universe. A first cross 'Bull X' ~ is actually the finest damn 'Working Dog' I have around here?

If there's a single mouse found its way into my cathedral like kitchen? Orange Dog will try to eat her way through the door on scent of it. Let her out there and she'll find that fucker. Then she'll bite it. And calm down again. Job done. Quite mad. Bless her.

Anyway, I digress. Or, before I do; Yeppers. The rats. Have to hit those bastards now. Now that I can at least move about out there, without certain fear of slipping over and breaking myself.

See? I'm looking forward to getting back into activity. Things to do. Things easier done in daylight. Reason to get off my back of a day.

Be good to get a couple of slabs of concrete down this year. Small back room needs a solid floor. Fucking earth just now! And, oh, how I'd like to sort out the horses pen and the shitty patch of mud outside it. I have my own cement mixer.

I'm gearing up, see? Let's see what I'm saying about all this as the year moves on and ~ one can but hope ~ warms up and dries out a bit.

How's Everyone Feeling ....?

Rough as a badgers foreskin, I expect? For Fuck Sake ....! 'Never again', eh?

I picked Dean O' up at just gone eight and it was straight to the door of Jim's. Hadn't been in there five minutes when I realised that was my phone ringing. Dashed outside, to where I could hear myself think, and found it was my Bro' calling me from england! God alone knows what that cost him. But, it was a hell of a long time before the line went dead as he'd finally ran out of credit.

Jim's was a little too raucous for even Dean, at this point. We decided to have a little run, so over to JJ's we went. Funny; Last year it was literally empty in there. Just the bar staff standing around in the shadows. Last night it was heaving! No accounting for it.

Dean O' suggested we grab a pew in an unoccupied corner and I instinctively got myself into what I considered a good vantage point. Old friend of mine, former SAS chap taught me this. It worked too. There we are, sitting at right angles to each other, chatting whilst we each stare dead ahead. Then, Bingo! I hit pay dirt!

A bunch of young girls, each seemingly trying to out do each other on shortness of skirt, or length of leg revealed, came and sat bang opposite me! Fuckin' lovely! Of course, these youngsters all have a blind spot for blokes my age. They think we're just empty boxes. They just couldn't comprehend that we have sex on our minds, even if we shoved our hand up their skirts!

So, there's me, now grinning like a cunt as my dead, old eyes just keep staring fixedly ahead into no where ~ and I'm giving Dean O', who couldn't possibly start turning and looking their way, a running cometary! " Cor, fuck me, mate! That sweet little blonde's rubbing her thigh again ....! " Rather fun, that was. For me, at least. Shame about Dean O'. But then, as I so often reminded him last night; " Old age and treachery ..... "

Funny really but, as the night progressed I was actually consciously aware of how certain women were becoming incrementally more attractive! I remember spotting one I labelled " The Cave Woman ", in my head. God knows why. She caught my eye, mid way, and I thought there was something about her that made we want to have a little look at her. Later on, I'd decided, she had a certain attraction about her. By the end of the night, I'm quite certain I'd have wanted to fuck her! (Probably consider her a nightmare, if I were sober!)

And the end of the night brought the most telling and curious little incident too. The Food Girl. See, as Dean O' and I were having our now customary games of darts as midnight approached, so they brought the food out. Now, I was 'starving', having not eaten that day, of course. But, I don't eat in these situations because grazing on nibblets only makes me want to satiate my alerted appetite. I had a kebab in my pocket. I'd eat when I got home.

But, one of the food girls had other ideas for me. I politely accepted a single cocktail sausage from her basket. Then I went into colder mode and firmly refused to accept any further offerings. And, looking back, that was when I noticed her standing beside me, offering up her basket of goodies to me. And she was smiling. Her eyes fixed on me like we were the only souls in that packed out pub. I was being fucking hit on!!!

Well, fuck all that. She wasn't looking so bad herself at all, by this point. Only about thirty, and half a dozen pints of Guinness were smoothing out her creases nicely. But, I'd withdrawn into the safety of my own unapproachability and would have given her a rather dead, cold look in return. I thought no more of it and threw my darts about the place.

Then, just after Dean O' had somehow managed to pull a fucking Two out of the hat, thus getting his own customary best of three, I remember myself being beckoned back by the Food Girl, just as I was heading for the door. She was slaughtered. I was probably slaughtered myself; But I 'hold my drink well' and can appear perfectly reasonable, in public.

And there she was. Hanging onto my coat sleeve as she pawed and stroked me with the other hand. Murmuring and purring against my chest and ear. FFS! She wanted me to stay. In fact, she probably had a room waiting for the night. Jim and Phyl' run a combined pub and Guest House, see?

That was fucking It! I had Orange Dogs furry little face to get back to. Orange Dog wanted her bit of the kebab in my pocket and I'd promised her it too. I pointedly detached this girls grasp from my arm and, almost curtly, bid her a 'Happy New Year' before turning smartly on my heel and striding out the door to my waiting taxi and home to Orange Dog.

How fucking Manly was That?!

Nigger: One - le Ding: One Behind The Ear! LOL!

Calm down sillys! le Ding, along with the rest of them, has just been out for a 'Sort Out' and is now back in his bed, groaning with contentment, as he does. Bless him!

No, it's just that today, on our daily walk up the track, an interesting little even occurred which has since actually 'sunk in' rather better and so revealed a little story I thought worth the telling here.

Up by my top gate, see, there's a little bit of rougher ground, just behind my top hedge. This is only a piddling little strip of ground, between the hedge and the track between two gates. However, it's still a little haven for anything not wishing to dodge stupid cattle so much as it would out on the open fields. Sort of place a fox might lay up. Ye know the sort.

So anyway; Nigger and Rats have shown an expectable bit of interest in this spot. Rats is a fuckin nuisance! If Anyone's going to lead one of my other Dogs off on a high adventure, it'll be rats! Get them shot, whilst she offers too small and nippy a target? Fucking charming! And, today, she invited Nigger to join her in the dance of death.

Off they've gone, straight down off the track and into Pat's lower fields. Nothing to bad there, because the cattle were no where to be seen and I could actually see quite a way from the track. I was especially unconcerned as they were, at first, simply sniffing around that little patch of scrubbier ground there. Then they moved out into the half acre field of juncus and it was actually quite nice to imagine Nig Nig was actually 'Working' the ground with some purpose and intent.

But, when they shot off down through the lower gate, thus entering a span of endless acres, virtually all of it out of sight behind hedges, unless they reappeared a mile away, near those distant sheep ....! Buggers both ignored my calls too. It was getting a bit tense making!

So, there's me, stood at this gate, gumming at my bottom lip. Orange Dog doing who knows what ~ probably just standing around with me. (We're both so clapped out now, standing around suits us fine). le Ding I have on an extending lead. I never lock it, so he's free to shoot off in all directions for a fair old way too. Seems he was just standing, watching too though.

Frankly, I'm so concentrated on my growing anxiety that two of my Dogs are off loose, disobeying me, and in plain sight of anyone around the rim of the basin ..... Oh! Fuck me! Look at that hare!

Sure enough, here she comes, straight through the lower gate the Unholy Allience have gone through. Right out of the field they're 'working'. She's come up the track, not rushing by any means. I observed and noted her almost fox like 'russet' fur as she quickly loped up the track. She probably noticed us lot, about fifteen foot or so before 'our' gate, and turned gently in her course. Past us she went and skipped on through a hedge gate and into the field beyond.

With that, I returned my attention to the two lead magnets below who, soon afterwards, reappeared and rejoined us. Wet, panting and pleased with themselves. Home we went and no more was said about the matter. Dogs will, after all, be Dogs. (Naughty Dogs! LOL!)


Now, let's try that again, shall we? Supposing I'm some prick with 'Issues'. So I feel the need to carry a Big, scarey Gun everywhere with me. And I see everything which might try to get away from me as a challenge to my 'manhood'.

First off; Two of my Dogs go galavanting. That could pan out either way. A/ I might take offence at their being too preoccupied to 'Hear' my commands. Thus I could very well shoot them as soon as they presented a target of themselves. Some Would!

B/ I might have stood there, kneading my own zip as I drooled over the prospect of them actually being 'working'. And, can ye imagine 'my' ecstacy when that little hare had come loping up the track there? I could've blown her fucking head clean off. Then I could've taken close up pictures of the carnage I'd wreaked and shown them on THL. " Hare, Head Shot With 12 Bore At Five Yards! (Pre Ban) "

Of course, with that attitude governing my pond life like responses; Is it not entirely feasible that I'd then have remembered le Ding there? He hadn't even made his presence known to me, throughout. Hadn't shot off after the clearly visible hare. Hadn't even whimpered. In fact, he must've just stood there beside me and watched her pass. Just as Orange Dog and I had done.

Dingo Dog's a Dog in his prime. Lean. Fit. Sharp as a razor. He saw that hare. He knew her for what she was. He could've ripped that lead from my hand, cleared that gate and been after her like a rush of wind. But he didn't. Because I never gave him any indication that I required him to. Good Dog!

But how about our alter character there? I wonder how many of That sort, in that circumstance, would have beaten le Ding round the head as useless, for not giving chase. Then dragged him home and put 'One Behind His Ear'. Another 'useless fucking cull'. And have been on his way to pick up his umpteenth Dog in a year or two tonight?


Nothing left to prove, me, see? Been there. Done all that. That hare's out there now, biting grass stems. My Dogs are sleeping around me. Good Dogs, the lot of them. They don't need to do anything to bolster my ego. I need no social crutches. Just the love and companionship of my good Dogs.

And I don't think this lot are proving bad Dogs. Nigger and Rats scented, searched for and pushed out that hare to perfection ~ she was their only concern. le Ding did exactly what I always bid of him on our walks; " Don't Dash, Ding! " Even confronted with a passing hare, Ding didn't dash. Orange Dog and I? We couldn't go 'Voom!' if ye stuck fifty thousand volts up our arses!

We're older now. We just like to watch.

Nigger's Tale .....

Nigger. He's a Name. Not a Number. Though I only ever knew of him as " 4737 " on Louth County Council Dog Pounds web site. I came to find him thanks to " Sam ", the guy ye may have seen Commenting on here. Sam's big on championing the Rescue of Dogs. But, he puts his money where his mouth is. The guy Rescues, Fosters, Looks After, Breaks His Own Damn Heart Over as many Dogs as he can possibly manage. An Unsung Hero.

Sam had long since starting sliding URLs across the table at me. Just 'Something to take a look at'. I don't think he ever directly mentioned any particular Dog. Most of them made my heart bleed anyway. And I knew most of them would be dead in a week or so too.

But, what can I do? I have land, sure. I have enough land that I could build a huge fucking paddock and stick maybe twenty Dogs in it. I could likely keep them fed too. But, it'd be little more than a benign Concentration Camp for Dogs.

See; I'd be able to go in there twice, maybe three times a day? I'd pick up all their shit. I'd check and refresh their water bowls. I'd dole out their food, once a day. And they'd become basically a feral, contained pack. They'd sort their own social structure out. Maybe some would even die in the process? I'd drag the carcass out and sling it in a certain place I know of.

Is that any way to keep Dogs? I don't think so. Besides which, I'm only using that scenario as an example. Fact is; Constructing such an enclosure would cost me tens of thousands of pounds. I just haven't got that sort of money. What good, to Dogs, is an acre of land if they can't be contained within it? So, there we are.

Anyway; I must've mentioned to Sam how I had this feel for a rough, rangier, 'Black Lab' sort of Dog. Only, Sam would certainly know I simply won't have shit to do with castrated Dogs. So, then he sent me a few links to Dog Pounds (as very much different from 'Dog Rescues, in the main) where they really couldn't give a shit about letting Dogs go out with their balls still on. Just as long as the poor Dogs went out on their own four feet.

And that's how I discovered " Dog, Ref # 4737. Black Lab ~ Stray. Louth Dog Pound. " and decided he'd be worth my taking a chance on.

I e mailed them and stated my interest. Their " Tommy " shot me back, saying he was a great little Dog and his owners would probably be in to collect him. Him being a Stray, rather than a Handed In By Owner.

Well, I asked that I at least be granted first refusal, should it not happen. Then, after midnight on the day he was due for release, I mailed again. Could I have him now? Still Tommy held out. He told me; If 4737 wasn't claimed by closing time That day ..... He was giving this Dog one extra day.

Next day, I e mailed Tommy to say I wanted the Dog. Within an hour, I phoned him to say I was in a taxi and on my way. " A Taxi?! " Virtually screamed an astonished Tommy. " From Leitrim?!? ". Err ... Yes, Tommy. Two hundred mile round trip. In a taxi. To buy a Dog some cunt's 'Dropped Off' along a road some where. About an eight hour journey. I have no problem with that. Oh but, Tommy? Ye just don't know who ye dealing with here, do ye? This is Ditch Shitter. A man simply not given to fucking about!

Steve Flynn, one of my most regular Taxi's, probably learned more about my past than many people here will ever know, on that seemingly endless drive. Four fucking hours. And the Irish Love to ask questions and then just drink in the answers. Thus I had to provide most of the in car entertainment. By the time we reached Louth, even I'd ran out of things to say. I'd covered about thirty years of my life!

But, here we were. And there, one had to surmise, was 4737. There was this bald headed guy in the compound. Goatee beard and bouncy, black Lab' type Dog. " Fit looking Dog ..... " Commented Steve.

Well, Tommy let us in and was back inside with 4737 even before the automated gates had fully opened. I was lighting a roll up even before Steve was out of the motor! Then Tommy came back out to find me and I got a good look at the guy. Ye know when ye take just one look at someone and Know they're a good person? I really must look up Louth County Council and send them a note to say what a Good Egg they have in that man. I'm perfectly serious.

And there was 4737. He could barely take his eyes off Tommy. His tail never stopped wagging. This Dog Adored the guy! Then I was signing things. No worries! One thing was a Dog License ~ Saved me buying one next time I hit town. I Always license All my Dogs. The other was the Micro Chip Receipt, for the micro chip Tommy popped into 4737, right there and then. Scanning the Dog, to show me it was there and working.

Then, after a truly enjoyable chat about things of obviously mutual interest, it was time to open the door of the motor and invite 4737 to hop in the back. In he got. I managed to get in the front, without letting go of the collar and lead I'd brought with me. We were off. Homeward bound.

I don't think we were even out those gates before I turned, grinning into 4737's happily panting face, and said; " Well, Nigger, my love ..... "

Know what? Nigger just sat, laid, stood, good as gold. Good Four Hours! Not a fucking peep, whinge, whine, piss, shit, puke or fart out of him. Dog was a solid little angel, all the way home. And, when I got him here? I led him round for a sniffing, pissing session. Popped him on a chain. Watched him drink his fill of water. Took him into a back room and locked him there. Let the others out, to sniff his piss and piss on it. Put them away. Chained him up again, in sight of the window ..... Fucked off for Four More Hours! (I had business and this had, unavoidably clashed)

Back I came, midnight and gone. This is how I handled it: I let The Orange Dog out. She gave him a cursory glance and ignored him. I muzzled le Ding and Nigger. Brought le Ding out on a lead. Nigger cringed a bit. Ding tried a spot of high stepping and nose shoving. A firm " Oy! " from me told him that wasn't the idea.

Fifteen minutes later, after I'd spray disinfected. Mopped ..... God Dammit! ..... Done the same again! Gentle slap and a firm word. (Nigger should, by now, be getting the idea that he Does Not piss mark each outstanding object in my kitchen!) And we all came in here.

Nigger crashed out at my feet. le Ding settled down close by. Orange Dog went for a kip on my bed. Chain Dog ....? Well; Chain Dog's a bit of a sociopath. We don't care what Chain Dog's doing. It still means she'll kill them all, let out of there and given half a chance to!

Know what? I woke up today; Nigger still fast asleep, right where my feet had been all night. Dingo Dog fast asleep in his bed, two foot away from Nigger. Orange Dog in my arms and a fucking great grin on my face!

Right now, about thirty hours later as I write? Still like an explosion in a Dog factory. Dogs strewn all over the place. And Peace!

This is why I gave up the Bull breeds. Adore them as I do; I like more than one Dog around the place ;-)