Cows Teeth

  My Dad was a Greyhound Trainer. Thus, I was brought up around the Dog Track. More precisely, the Kennels.

 Long before I even went to primary school, I was completely at home around the kennels. 

Funny: To this day, I can remember being there. But, more than that, I can remember how I thought.

  It's amazing, looking back, how clearly and maturely an under five year old's mind functions.

  Ye may not Know shit. But, ye open to it. No preconceived ideas, I s'pose? And ye want to know everything. Probably why little kids ask " Why? " so much.

  Dad had to deal with rats. A fuck ton of rats! I'm not here to relate the conditions, 'Behind the scenes', beyond the actual ranges of kennels where the Dogs were kept.

  But, believe me; There were cow and sheeps heads. Fucking tons of them! That's what the Dogs ate. After they'd been boiled up in these massive boilers.

  Boilers so big that, even when the grown lads (Kennel Boys) warned me to stand well clear of the door, as they cranked the handle that tilted the boiler; 

  Spilling all the boiling water onto the concrete floor of the boiling room. There to flood and rush out. Steaming and streaming down the outside gulleys .....

  Fuck knows what came with it. There must have been some sort of strainer, obviously. But, the idea was that ~ I think ~ the boiled off flesh, and the skulls ~ remained.

  I can smell that smell to this day. Well over half a century ago. But, there we are. The smell of boiled heads. The steam. The hosing out. My childhood.

  The flesh was then wheeled across to the kennels. We mixed it, in long, galvanised tin baths. Bread rusk and what ever. 

  All hands on deck. Ye had to squish what ever ye felt. Squeeze and mulch it. Still hot. Meat or bread, it all felt the same. 

  (I wonder how many fucking eyeballs I've squished, in my formative years?! FFS! I've never before given that a moments thought!)

  I honestly don't remember there being a sink, anywhere, there. Or being told to rinse my hands under a hose pipe. Definitely no soap.

 I do remember the cows teeth though. Front ones.

  Dad had taken us with him, one evening. He had some business to deal with. He left us in the big van while he disappeared into his kennel range.

  We sat, watching the rats scuttling about in the quiet. Up and down the gulley, outside the Boiler Rooms.

  Even then, totally fascinated by the things, I climbed out of the cab to go look about. See what they were up to.

  That's when I saw these cows teeth, laying in the gutter. Front teeth. They actually look pretty much like you, or mines. (If I fucking had any, any more!)

  Just a bit bigger. But, they have these long, straight, tapered roots to them. Probably no where near as long as I remember them now.

  But, to a four or five year old? They were long. Pointy. And, obviously; Vampires fangs!

  What's a man to do? (Remember; One thinks just like a man, at that age. That's how ye perceive ye own thought processes, anyway. Ye never think:  " I'm just a kid. ")

  I pulled a couple of these things out of the gutter. Shoved the teeth under my top lip, so the roots hung down against my chin. Vampire fangs!

  Stop. Let me just reiterate: As a chavvie, I picked boiled out cows teeth from an open air gutter. One I'd just seen rats wandering in.

  I then put said cows teeth straight in my mouth and proceeded to tease my siblings thus. I'm pretty sure they actually followed my example. And we laughed and laughed ....!

  That was a Childhood! We're all ~ us kids ~ now gone sixty. Dad was long dead by the time I managed to contract ~ and suffer the full course of ~ Weil's Disease. Pushing it to 43C.

  Quite independently and through my own fault, that was. Age fifteen. I never have been able to just leave those fucking rats alone! 

  Dogs and rats. Born and raised amongst them, see? Fascinated by them, all my life.

I remember Dad taking me along, on long, work related journeys in his van. Half a dozen Dogs in the back. On a deep bed of clean straw. And me. We'd all pile in, snuggle up and chill out together. 

  All in a pile. Arms and legs tangled. Heads resting on each others bodies. 

  To this day, I sleep with a Dog in my arms. Nose pressed to their hairy little bodies. I love it! I love holding their little feet too. Bulldogs having such tiny little feet.

  And that's, probably, why I now have the constitution of a bull elephant and the immune system of a shit house rat!

  Ours were the days, people.
  

 

   

Caught A Rat .....

I guess our attitude changes, with retirement. No one's paying me to catch rats. I live in the middle of the open countryside. The open countryside's seething with rats.

 Am I to wage a rest of my life long crusade against them? Just for shits and giggles? I don't even own the requisite camouflaged jacket and night sighted air rifle.

  So, the other day, finding a very fit and healthy young rat in one of my bird traps ~ in mortal terror at my approach; Like they instinctively are .....

   I just opened the door and let him bolt back to the hole in the bank side. What else was I mean't to do?

  Why???

Nature? Why You Fuck With My Head?!

  I typed the following, onto Notepad, at 06:40, this morning. While it was still reverberating in my mind.

  "   Good god!

Okay. Real time here. I've just seen the most astonishing thing.

Five minutes ago, as I type, I headed out the back door. I guess I'm now habituated to focusing on the nut feeder, fifteen foot, directly, from the door.

   I, sort of, automatically ask myself what birds are on it, as I look through the glass,

Just now? Dunno. Something, just beyond my ~ ageing eyes ~ focus sparked something in my brain. There was something about the nut feeder.

Opened the door? All hell let loose! Something unwrapped itself from the feeder. It then, clearly, made the fence ~ close behind ~ and shot off to my left.

Okay. Dog's just distracted me. I've lost my train of thought. I'm already asking myself:

 " Was that a rat? Could it definitely Not have been the piney bitch? "

Dunno. Initial impression / jiz had given me rat.

What ever. What's Absolutely clear is that at least one, maybe more, Birds came off them nuts too!!! "

See what I'm saying, people? Which ever it was; It was commensal with the fucking birds!!!

  This is some spooky fucking shit, at my stage in the game! Pheasants ready to share with foxes. I've watched a collared dove shoo an adult rat off the feed.

  Come to that? Only yesterday, I saw an adult rat feeding. Surrounded by chaffinches, feeding on the same, 18" x 10" spread of seed. Not one fuck was given!

  But; A fucking rat, wrapping itself round my nut basket ~ as great tits and siskins hang within inches, eating the same nuts?! 

  Seriously; I really do think that the older we get, the more we see? The more we realise how little we really know!

 

Rats; An Interesting Observation .....

  So, as everyone would have heard before, there's an old wives tale that says; If ye catch a rat and set fire to its tail,  then let it go? It'll run, screaming, through the burrow system. Its screams will so terrify all the other rats, they'll get the fuck out of Dodge forth with.

  Hold that thought a minute .....

  So, I have my (Licensed) bird traps down, out on the track. I'm baiting them with wild bird feed and, lo and behold, all this seed and stuff, right there on the floor, attracted rats. 

  I've stood here, gazing out at the traps, only to see a solitary rat sneak out from the hedge bank. Grab a mouthful and dash back to cover. Obviously, as the days went by, so I was eventually seeing anything up to three at a time out there.

  Now, this Is the countryside. Rats are perfectly natural inhabitants of the hedgerows. I'm effectively offering them a free meal. What should I expect? Chaffinches and rats.

  However, these rats aren't bothering me. They're living in the bank. Not coming into my cottage. Why then would I even bother poisoning them? I can't kill every rat in fucking Leitrim!

  Then, one day, about a week ago, I look out and, fuck me. I've caught a fucking rat! There he is, jumping around in one of my Potter cage traps. The fuck am I gonna do now?

  See, we're not allowed any sort of hand guns here. Not even an air pistol. Might as well be a .357 Magnum. Because we have no law / concept of 9 pound muzzle velocities.

 Here, an air gun can be what ever power it can be made to. My mate had a standard air rifle that put out about 35 on the chronograph! He had to get a Firearms License for it though. Just like for a .223.

  Anyway, obviously then, an air  pistol pellet was out of the question. An Irishman would simply drop the trap in water. Some wanker off THL would probably tip the rat out to his waiting terriers and film it for face fuck.

  Me? Being all grown up now, and being at peace with the size of my dick? I just decided, fuck it: I'll let the fucking thing go.

  So, I locked the Dogs in. Sauntered out there and approached the trapped rat. And that fucker started doing the wall of death round the inside of that cage. Screaming its fucking lungs out!!! Poor thing was fucking terrified.

  What ever. I carefully (Very carefully! These traps aren't mean't for rats. Mind fingers!) opened the trap and el ratto wasted no time at all in coming out like Usane Bolt and virtually Leaping over the hedge bank in a single bound. Quite possibly still screaming.

  Know what? I haven't seen a single fucking rat since! How curious is that?!


  

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.  

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 .....

 

Hark! Hark! The Dogs Do Bark .....

  At least " Rats " did. Last night. I was just sitting here, listening to my tinnitus and cruising a forum when she lit up. Out of fucking no where. Barking like a lunatic.

 Of course, all I'm getting is this scruffy little 'Lakeland Terrier' thing, going ballistic. No other sounds. Rest of the Dogs ignoring her. No headlights on the window. No reaching for the gun. Just " Shuuuuuud Uuuuuuuuupp!!! Fucking Thing! Woss Up Wi Ye?! ".

 And all returned to normal. Moment passed. Incident forgotten. For hours. Certainly until I decided it was time I let them all out for a piss, before the final run down to bed time. And then? Fuck me if she didn't kick off all over again!

 Rats, going hysterical once? I can live with that. Rats doing it twice? I look to her .....

 In fact, I looked to the scene behind the door there. Ye know how someone could move a tea mug, an inch, in ye kitchen ..... and ye'd walk in and 'see' that something was amiss in ye room? It's like that when ye live alone, anyway.

 And I soon spotted it. The 'mess' by the Store Room door. Some sort of stuff on what should have been a clean swept floor. I looked closer .....

  Kind of sticks out like a punch in the mouth, doesn't it? It certainly would do, if ye knew how clean swept I like to keep my floors here, anyway. And not without good reason.

 So, Rats is all over the place and I've given them their piss, then brought them all back in here, before I investigated further.

  Look at the state of my fucking door frame!

  Fucking rat has come up in the earth floored room, out the back. It's slipped under the door, where I'm working and am replacing the door step. That's got it into my kitchen ~ no doubt setting Rats off in the first place.

 Me having called her off? The damn thing's decided all is well in the world and has sat down to work, at its leisure, on the door post of my Pest Control Store Room! And, by the time I've gone out there? It's broken through and was, I figured, in the fucking store!

 Picked the wrong kiddy to invade, this fucker! LOL! I've 'Dusted' the hole. Moment he passes back through there? He'll pick up an annoying slick of powder on his coat. Rats are actually fastidiously fussy about their grooming. He'll lick that off.

 I set a trap, just in case he was stupid, or licking that super concentrated poison dust makes him so while he's still able to move.

 Then, I put down a tray of the best gear I have. Pellets. Very tempting. Very lethal. Then I went to bed.

 Tonight? I let the Dogs out for their piss. Rats was having none of it. All she wanted was to check the door post hole. Then dash along the fireplace wall to the cupboard.

 What a thing of beauty, to see her work! That little Dog was completely focused and knew exactly what she was getting at too. She flattened herself out and got beneath a drawer I'd have a hard job rolling a been tin under!

 Shining my Clulite under there, I thought of grabbing the camera and getting a photo of her. But, instincts of my own kicked in. I slid that shallow drawer open .....

 Bingo! There, in the corner. Nice little pile of red pellets. The fucker's been hoarding the bait. Carrying each, individual pellet from the tray. Through the door post. Through my kitchen. Up under the cupboard. Into that drawer. Bastard!

 A life times experience as a rat catcher told me to open that drawer. But, it was my trustee little scruffy scrap of a terrier that led me to the drawer in the first place. 

 Without her help? I'd not have known to put a fresh dose of that lethal dust in that perfectly safe drawer. I even know where to retrieve my bait from. And I know that it too is somewhere safe. 

 Rat'll be helping itself to a few pellets, of course. It'll also be ingesting ever more of that dust. Probably be dead tomorrow then. And I know exactly where to look for it.

 If I can't find it, where I'm expecting it? Rats'll soon sniff it out for me. That's what she does best.

  

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?!
 

What Won't Rats Eat ....?

 Rats, as just about everybody knows, will eat just about anything. Most appalling habit.

 Little was I to know then, when I got my scruffy little 'Terrier' with the long, skinny legs ..... And I called her:

" Rats "

 Rats has been a thorn in my side, from day one. She completely refuses to be house trained. No matter how often and how late I let her out at night, I virtually always wake up to piss and / or shit in the morning. It's become a way of life here.

 I put up with it ~ like I put up with her ~ because she's an otherwise fun and engaging little shit. Niggy worships her. And, I guess we could always throw in the usual; 'She doesn't eat much'.

 That wouldn't be entirely true though. Granted, she's easy on the meat ration. But, she's also an inveterate, opportunistic thief and has the catholic feeding habits of ..... well; A rat!

 Any Dog likes to nibble a bit of horse or cow shit. That's a given. Too many have a taste for Dog shit. That's fucking harsh!

Either way, I have to be quick on my feet, of a morning. I let the Dogs out then have to dash after them, bagging up each ones shit before Rats has done hers and come after theirs.

 But, it doesn't stop there. Rats will seemingly eat just about Anything!  I sit here and reach for the nail clippers? Rats appears beneath me. Finger and toe nails are snaffled up with relish, as soon as they hit the floor.

 Worse; I get my knife out and start to dig the shit from under my finger nails. I wipe the crap off the blade and flick it onto the floor. Rats scurries around, gobbling down every bit.

  And she's a social climber too, despite her disgusting social etiquette. She's determined not to be bottom of the pile here. So, she bites Nigger's legs while he's trying to sleep ~ just because she knows he'll let her. And it shows she has the drop on him.

 But, now she's trying to slide herself into le Ding's place. She tries to lick my feet, when I take my boots off of a night. She's even taken to licking my back, when I'm a'bed.

 le Ding always likes to lick my arse, when I'm in bed. Now Rats has started trying to out do him. She licks my entire back. Even my head; Till I tell her to fuck off.

 Last night, she crossed the line and came unstuck. There I was, arms wrapped round Orange Dog. Her hairy little arms round my neck. Furry face against mine. Both perfectly content. And Rats comes licking.

 Rats licked my back. Licked my shoulders. Then worked her way back down again. I'd had enough. 

 I shifted slightly and waited. Yes! She was licking her way down to my arse hole ..... I tensed, waiting. A sly grin forming on my lips. Closer. Closer ..... Nearly there ..... Bingo!

  " PhrrrrrrrrEeerrrrrp!!!!! " Eat That, you cunt! I let her have it full on! As a seemingly endless rush of hot, foetid air burst into her mouth and forced its way into her throat, I could imagine her eyes bulging as her lungs expanded. Couldn't eat That fucker, could ye, Rats?

 I felt her whole body shudder. I was conscious of her staggering gait as she stumblingly retreated across the room. Then came the 'Rat a tat a tat a tat' as she violently shook herself. Ears slapping against her head.

 And, burying my face into Orange Dogs furry chest, I too began to shudder. With suppressed but hysterical laughter. Fuckin' try That again, ye little fuck!



 Now; Here's Rats being strangled. Just because .....   

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.

Feed The Birds ......

I mean seriously. Please. They're having absolute fucking hell out there right now. You can help ensure that a lot more of them make it through. It doesn't have to be a chore either. Certainly not a strain on the budget.

Pick up a wire mesh, tubular 'Peanut Feeder' and a bag of shelled peanuts. Probably set ye back less than a fiver. Hang it within a few feet of some sort of cover, if possible. Hedge. Tree. What ever. If at all possible, hang it from a length of fence wire (tying wire will do admirably, if ye more urban) And fix it so it's four feet from either end of that wire. About chest or head height.

Why's this? It's because rats can't jump that far. Nor can they climb along such wire. Not the Brown Rat ye'd get in ye gardens anyway. And peanuts, unlike 'Bird Seed' mixes, won't get picked out of their feeders and scattered about the ground below.

That's why councils and my fellow pest controllers have taken to damning people who feed the wild birds, see? They blame Compost Heaps and 'Bird Feeders'. I say 'fucking well educate people in the correct ways of keeping their compost heaps, and feeding the birds.'

I'm talking from experience here. I've fed the birds all my life. I know about rats. I've cracked it. I've been feeding the birds around here now for twelve months, like this, without rats getting in on the act. It Can be done. I've just told ye how. No need not to look after the poor bloody birds, despite what the Thought Police might say.

Not all birds eat that much peanut, of course. Some like insects and even fruit. So, for those, I put out tiny amounts of strategically placed minced meat. Put a bit the size of my thumbnail on top of a fence post, near where any of my Robins gets. Little buggers are waiting for me now, every day. They virtually take it from my hand in their keenness. I'm sure they would do too. But, I'm not into teaching wild birds 'tricks'.

Pesky little fuckers though. Moment I open my door and there's one hopping about my kitchen. Looking for something to eat. I have to shoo him out before the Dogs find him. Always in there. Not in the least bit concerned about me. Too hungry to care, poor soul.

So, buy an apple today, eh? Red ones, I feel, are best. Cut it in half and just leave it out there, on the ground. Blackbirds and such will see it off. Fetch it inside as darkness has fallen, if ye like.

See? Bloody easy. Doesn't need a Degree in anything. Costs next to nothing. And we do it simply because we can.

Compassion is good. Try some. It might grow on ye.

Rats In My Cottage .....

I must be out of my fucking mind here! I mean, this has nothing to do with my magpies demise. " Rats ", my little 'Terrier' thing has actually been in here since some time after their dinner time. I guess I'd just fed the horses, or was getting some turf up from the shed. It struck me that we had what amounted to a frost. And there was Rats; Rolling about on her back. Pawing the air at me. She wanted something.

Rats was born outside, in a kennel, as far as I know. Thus she's always seen concrete as the place to piss and shit. Even when I allowed her free range, she'd dash back in here to piss or shit. That's why I built her her own little house, out there. And she's lived there, on her chain, for a year or two now. Quite happily.

Maybe it's my back? I'm feeling a bit less than my usual, rugged, self just now, I guess? Realising how things can be more of a chore when one isn't 100% And there's Rats, trying to convey something to me I've never noticed before. Signs of frost on the ground ~ I'd thought, earlier, how it was surely cold enough for snow tonight.

Fuck it. I unclipped her and invited her in. I figure, what with Chain Dog shitting and pissing in her cage, the place stinks like a sewer anyway. At least the diet of fresh meat and bone makes her shit dry, in the heat of the stove in here. And a drop of disinfectant neutralises her piss. I clean up what I can for her.

And it'll only be a day or so more now. My back's mending, as it does. Life will get back to normal. Just a bad week in a year of near fifty better ones. And Rats is in here with us. Warm and snug.

Only thing is; The little fucker won't take her eyes off me! LOL! I so much as glance her way, hoping to get a sneaky shot of a snoozing Rats? No good. She's perfectly comfortable, but watching me like a hawk. I expect she's just waiting to be 'noticed' and slung back out in the cold.

No, Rats. Ye've been in here ~ and let out for a wander ~ for nine hours now. Ye doing alright. Just don't shit in my ear hole as I try to sleep and we'll see how it goes next.

I wonder if we can learn?

Weird To Do With Rats .....

Now that I appear able to function, on line, again ..... Some nights ago, I was just giving the Dogs a last break and I couldn't help but notice how they all became gathered and preoccupied, over on the grass.

That's to say, they usually just content themselves with a piss on the gravel. But, this night they were all mingling about, in the dark, over by the back side of the cottage. Not that I read too much into it. Just sort of struck me that this wasn't their usual routine.

Another little 'Back of the Minder' is the hole, up by my post box. You wouldn't know it was there. I do. I know because I found Pat with his arm down it one day. Doing something with a spanner. There's something to do with water pipes, in there. Governing one of Pat's cattle troughs, I imagine. Doesn't concern me. Been concerning the Dogs of late though.

For a few days past now, on our daily wander up there, all the Dogs have been 'Marking' that pipe hole. There's a rock on top of it. And the pipe inside comes under the road, from the ditch opposite. So does some rather foul smelling water. But, it's never attracted my Dogs before. I'm thinking Mink.

Fact that, a couple of days ago, le Ding went under the fence at the hedge below this hole. Had a sniff around and said; " Look, Dad! Shit! ". And so there was. It looked a lot like mink shit too. Frankly, a bit too damn fresh for me to want to go touching it and sniffing it! I had other things to get on with anyway.

And, perhaps that was the night the Dogs behaved funny. Messing around on the far side of the grass. Towards my ditch?

What ever. Next day, out we all came. I was heading for my ditch and, as always, scanning the ground for land mines, laid by the Dogs as I got the kettle on. That's how I found the rat. Good, full grown one. It was stretched out on the grass in such a way that it had obviously died whilst running flat out. Most unusual.

It had been running from my little wood bunker too. I knew they were back in there ~ Dogs had told me that too. Simply too rushed off my feet to bother just yet. And, right then, I had other things on my mind too. I slung the rat into my compost box, as I passed by into my ditch.

Minutes later, more relaxed, I re emerged and walked back the way I'd come. And there's this fucking rat again! I turned round to Nigger and asked him how in hell he'd managed to get into my compost box. Never mind. I slung the damn thing back in there. Right on top of the Other One!

This was getting 'noticeable'. I was pondering all this as I went to the kitchen sink. And that's when my morning fresh, pre fag nose picked up that old, familiar scent again! Oh, for fuck sake ~ Not Again?!

I very gingerly eased the drawer open and peeked in. Lifted the papers ..... Nuffn! Thank fuck for that then! So, what was going on here? Then I remembered the trap. I'd long since set a rat trap in the cupboard under the sink. I'd seen how rats had got in there, using my wood bunker for cover. Dear god ..... I slid the door open.

Bingo!

And that's how I came to find I had Three dead rats in my compost box that morning.

Hat Trick!

The only thing still bugging me now is; It seems as though one or other of the Dogs likely caught and killed the two outside. Orange Dog is certainly more than capable, and she has quite the obsession with rodents too.

Perhaps le Ding scored one? I've never known him show much interest in rats before. But, given one streaking past him in the middle of the night? How could he refuse?!

But, here's the kicker; What the fuck were Two, fully grown and perfectly fit, rats doing, running the gauntlet of three Dogs like that?! What ever possessed them to break out of my wood bunker, simultaneously, and make a blind dash across open ground full of Dogs?

Can't help thinking about that mink. Less than two hundred yards away, moving among all these inter connected ditches .....

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.

" 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.