Pesticle ~ RIP

  Early hours of this morning. Complications, due to Pancreatic Failure. 

  It was extremely sudden. Extremely traumatic. Thank fuck I have a gun and so was able to finish it quickly.

My eternal gratitude to Pat, who came down here, cleaned up the spot I've never looked at. And buried her for me, in my grave yard, up back. 

Now, I have some serious fucking drinking to get back to. 

Piss Head On The Piss ....!

" Spay and Neuter! " They cry. " If your Dog could talk? He'd definitely say " Oooh, Dad! Pul Eeease get these balls off! " In fact, it's now considered down right fucking freaky Not to get a Dog (Or bitch) sexually mutilated, the moment ye get it.

  What they Don't tell ye is that fucking around with a bitches tubing brings an extremely good chance of it rendering her incontinent for the rest of her fucking life! Pesticle wasn't one of the lucky ones, I'm afraid.

  The number of times I've been sitting here. Pesticle sat on my lap, gazing out the window. Then, completely without warning, I'd feel a sense of warmth on my thigh.  Pesticle had been " Dripping ", again!

  She's a bit prone to Urinary Tract Infections too. Last one was a doozy, so I took her down to the vet's, who gave her Anti Biotics. They, in turn, fucked up her pancreas. Now, she's a complete bag of bones and is still spontaneously voiding her bladder!

  Pancreatic Supplements have proven a complete waste of money. So, on veterinary advice, I've just bought a ninety euro sack of Hills' finest. This is Pesticle we're talking about. What Pesticle needs? Pesticle fucking well gets!

  Hullo. I think she may have just peed, again. She's snoozing, on my futon. It's okay. I've covered the futon in thick plastic sheeting and have a cloth to wipe that with, as the need arises.

  Pancreas trouble causes the most violent and perfectly liquid shits, see? Poor sausage is dehydrating herself. Thus drinks stupid amounts of water. And her body just can't hold it in. They fucked her little valve up and now it just runs out of her. She's not even aware when it happens.  

  'Last night' / this morning, she pissed the bed. My bed. She sleeps in my arms, on the bare plastic. Quilt mopped That up. No matter. Lovely day. I hung it out and it's dry now. Probably rinse and repeat. 

  What ever. She's my Snuggle Pup and I adore her. She's happy in herself. Relishes her grub and wags her tail ecstatically when ye'd expect a display of unbridled happiness from a happy little Dog. No way I'd banish her from curling up in my arms at night.

  A rough day, for me, yesterday. And leaping out of bed after about an hours kip, this morning, took its toll on me. Fucking glorious day though. So, I went and stretched out on the ground for a bit. But, the sun was too bright in my eyes.

  Gave it best and came back in here. Flopped down on the futon. Four, mad Dogs jockeying for  best positions, around Dad. Balzac's proving a right bugger for trying to get a cuddle! Pesticle, last I was dimly aware, sort of curled up by my head. And I was out.

 Suddenly woke up to the strangest sensation. Right side of my face. Lifted my head and shrieked in absolute horror! The hot piss was in my ear. In my eye. Pouring out of my beard! Pesticle had peed, again. And my head was laying in it.

Pesticle Is Completely Insane! ~ Today, She Proved It ....!

  Pat was round, yesterday, with a bale of hay. I couldn't believe my eyes, when I went out there to greet him! I've not seen the man in weeks now, as he's been extremely busy.

   I mean, I've seen him in the distance. Out on the land. Governing JCB's and teams of men. Doing the stuff he finds to do out there. But, I've not actually spoken to him, face to face, for ..... could be pushing a month, I guess?

And, yesterday, having requested a bale, and glimpsed his little red tractor approaching the top gate, I went out there. Fucking Hell!!!!! There he is, hammering down to the pen in a gleaming, brand spanking new, straight off the production line Massey Ferguson!!!

  Anyway, I'll try to get a shot of that, some time. Bright red, of course. Black and gray trimming. Cleanest fucking tractor in Leitrim!

  Meanwhile, he asked why I didn't let the horses out on the paddock? We have the meadow taped off. Paddock's dry enough now. Rosie doesn't really tend to wreck it, like she does the meadow, for some reason. Why not, indeed.

  So, this afternoon, latish, I went down there and opened the small gate for them and out they went. My walking round their side of the stables probably encouraged the donkeys to move ahead a little. I left them to it and slipped back into the compound.

  Obviously, Pesticle's waiting there for me. She greets me. Then, she puts her face through the bolt hole in the gate and, tail wagging ten to the dozen, examines her friends, what ever she sees the horses as, as they inch past, eating the plentiful grass out there.

  I just lean on the gate and enjoy the same sight she has. Rosie and Donks. Moving slowly, one step at a time along the fence.  Ripping and devouring the grass before them.

  Then, I glance at Pesticle  ..... Fucking Dog's doing the exact same thing!!! There's quite a bit of grass there, beside the fence. Crept in under it. And, there's fucking Pesticle, studiously ripping whole fucking mouthfuls and chewing it up!

  This isn't the normal, Dog nibbling a random taste of grass behaviour we may observe a bit of, now and then. This fucking Dog is taking very slow, one foot at a time, steps in the same direction as the horses. Eating about as much fucking grass!!!

  Good seven or eight minutes I must have stood there. Just enjoying watching the horses enjoying themselves. And, that damn Dog was scarfing down the grass on her side all that time! Grazing her side of the fence, as the horses grazed theirs. I swear to god; I've never seen anything like it!

  So, there we have it. Dog's completely fucking raving! Thinks it's a fucking Horse now!

  I've always said; All my Dogs are mad. If they're not, when they come here, they bloody soon will be. le Ding is partial to the occasional nibble on my walls. And checks the hole in the door, religiously, when he enters this room.  

  Evil Little Dog has her, legendary. Commando Creep Crawl. Is also given to sitting, staring at me. And has developed a set of weird vocalisations for the moment I start stirring in my pit.

  Niggy has completely fixated on Pesticle. His life seems to revolve around grooming her. When he's not doing that, he grooms himself, rubbing his throat on various surfaces, and making some noises of his own.

  Pesticle? Innocent, harmless, happiest little Dog. The absolute light of my life. 

  But, fuck me; That impersonation of a horse ....! The Dog's fucking lost it!

Evil Little Dog Found A Bone .....

  The other day this was. Nice, sunny day. Promise of Spring. Just before it turned into fucking Alaska ....!

  Anyway, yeah. I looked out there and saw Evil Little Dog, my Jack Russell, digging around with something by the fence line.

  " What ye got there, Evil Little Dog? Show me. "

  'Got a bone, Dad. I found it. Now I'm gonna gnaw this mother fucker like there's no tomorrow!'

  Well, I've got a look at that bone and wondered. Frankly. It wasn't ye standard bit of rib bone. Nor was it a leg bone. Sort of shit a person might throw to a Dog. And an Evil Little Dog find and steal.

  My grave yard Did cross my mind, to be honest. But, I bury my Dogs deep enough that nothing in its right mind would be digging that far, now, for old bones.

   I don't think Evil Little Dog would bother.  She vanishes, night and day. She's allowed to. Because she's too small to seriously bother a cow. And she's ~ obviously ~ too fucking small to fence in.

  Anyway, she had this bone. Up to her. But, I told her how I needed her indoors now. All of them in. I had shit to do. She could bring her bone and shit would have to sort itself out.

  I dropped her in here, with the others. I had work to do, other side of the door.  I'd hear, if hell broke out. Four Dogs? One bone? 

  Know what? I had to come in here, at some point. Grab something I needed out there. And Pesticle's showing me the bone she now has. Happily chewing and sucking on it. Not a care in the world.
Evil Little Dog's now in her box. Snugly snoozing.

  Maybe half an hour later, I'm back in here again. And there's le fucking Dinger. Mouthing a somewhat reduced bit of bone. Only, he drops it, down the back of the bed,

  Niggie Dog tries to help le Ding dig it out. But, that's not gonna happen. So, I reach under the pallet and fetch this spitty lump of bone out.

  " Here ye go, Dingo Dog. " I say. " I reckon ye've about had ye share of this. Let's let the Nigger have his share. "  And I gave the lump to Niggie. (Munch, munch, munch)

  See what I'm saying there? No claims of Dog Trainer. Let alone 'Dog fucking Whisperer'.  This lot really has fuck all to do with me. It's my Dogs.

  Left to themselves, look, my two ridiculously disparate bitches ~ an American Bulldog and a Jack Russell. And the Dingo Dog and Nigger. They've just sorted their shit out.


  How about I introduce them to the concept of " God " ? For fuck sake ..... See what happens then.

My New Gate Arrived Today ....!

Lovely piece of work too!

 And by the way; I'm just chucking this in here to let ye know I'm still alive. Just so fucking scatter brained busy, I have a massive back log of shit ~ and photo's! ~ to some day stitch in here. Fucking Years worth!!!

For the moment though ..... 

Pesticle leapt out of bed and was shouting her head off, today. " Dad! Dad! Someone's out there! " . I figured it was just Pat, come to check on his cows. We share the track and he pops through my paddock to short cut to his lower meadow, half a dozen or so times a year.

Pesticle, of course, can't quite get her head around such new ~ to her ~ and sporadic stuff. She loves Pat, just like she loves everyone else on this planet. I got up. Glanced out. Saw his van, plainly parked out there. Yep. Cow checking. Went back to bed. Thought no more of it.

This evening, I've chained and fed the hairy Dogs. Got the horses grub and wandered down to the pen, where I now feed the donkeys ~ training them to come in there on my call, see?

Lo and fucking behold! My gate's there!Fucking beast of a thing. Custom built to keep even my Rosie off the stored hay. I didn't dare touch it. If I had it over? I'd be found beneath it ~ eventually!

What Pesticle had actually been shouting ~ though my woken up, sleep craving mind had failed to decipher it ~ was:

 "Dad! Dad! Pat's just pulled up, in his van. And now he's physically lugging this fucking great, steel, gate. It must weigh a ton and I bet you couldn't even lift it! And he's carrying it down to the pen! "

And all I can say is; " Pesticle?! Cuddle Cave! Get back in here and snuggle up! "

Pat. That's just Pat for ye. Any normal man would have  waited till he figured I was off my back. Rang me and told me he was fetching this thing. Be ready and We'd hump the fucking thing down to the pen. I'd have struggled to keep my end up. Probably have called a breather halfway there.


They say there's no moles on this island? Well; If ye believe that? Ye know fuck all about moles and ye've never been to Co. Leitrim and met the likes of Pat

Christ Almighty! THAT Fucking Hurt ....!!!!!

  I'm just sitting here, having a quiet read. Pesticle decides she wants to come and sit on Dad.

She likes to do that. I read the screen as she sits sideways and watches out the window.

All is good in the world. Even if I don't own a single pair of denims without a busted zip.

So, there's Pest; Sat on my lap. Peering out at the land. There's me, reading about stuffed foxes. Then it happens!

Pest has incrementally shifted her weight. The merest flexing of a paw ..... And that has somehow caused Great and Terrible pressure on two of the brass teeth of my broken zip.

Me being commando, the unimaginable happened!

Those fucking little brass teeth, ably assisted by a Huge weight of perfectly comfortable Dog, acted like a set of vicious, mini pliers!

Right on the edge of the f**king japs eye!!!!! One's inside. Other's outside. They're pinching with a force of around seventy fucking pounds, focused on a point just millimetres in size.

The colossal effect on me then might be considered  disproportionate. If ye not a man!

Christ All Fucking Mighty!!! I couldn't move! Couldn't breathe! My vision blurred so I thought I might pass out!

Ye know that scene in the Charles Bronson film; Where he grabs that guy by the testicles in a crushing grip?

That was me. Not Charles Bronson. I was like the big cunt, lapsing into unconsciousness with pain!

Fuck me, it hurt! Still does, actually! Fucked if I'm checking it. I can't even bring myself to uncross my legs, right now.

Pesticle's back to laying on the bed. Probably wondering why Dad suddenly made those strangled noises and his eyes bulged out like that.

Just before he somehow found the truly astounding reserves of strength to physically launch an entire, full grown American Bulldog off his lap!

Christ, it fucking hurt!

Hare On The Meadow ....!

  Un Fucking Believable! Not seen one in a couple of years here now!

Just thought I'd let the Dogs out into the compound, free their heads a bit. I look up the meadow and there's this fucking great lump! It's brown and it didn't 'belong' there!

Stared at it for all I was worth. Could have been anything. Got the bin's out and it's a hare! She's just sitting there, getting her furry body buffeted by the wind. Not a care in the world!

  Oh; And now she's gone. Might have sloped off while I wasn't looking. Or she may just be laying down.

What ever. She's Most welcome on 'my' land and I'll see that no one bothers her.

 Have to watch these bloody Dogs now. Or Niggy Niggy Ning Nang Noo will sure as eggs scent her and flush her.

That'll have the sharp eyed and faced Yellow Peril after her. And the Pesticle's sure to join in. What Evil Little Dog will contribute to this chaos, god alone knows!

I could do without it though.