Can't Wait To See Pat!

  Just took my plate out to the kitchen, where I have a pot bellied stove I got to burn all my waste paper in. 

  Small bits go in the door. Cardboard and such I drop through the lidded, eight inch hole on the top.

  Wiped my Opinel knife off on a bit of blue roll and the barely conscious thought that I'll chuck that in the stove, presently, flashed through my head.

  Closely followed by the unbidden idea that: 

" I must tell Pat I shit in my stove! "

  Fuck alone knows where the hell That one sprung from! But, it's a cracker, isn't it? Best bit is, he'll never be 100% certain I was just fucking with his head! LMFAO!

  He was down here, the other week. He saw ~ and was quite impressed by ~ the fact that I now have sawdust on the floor, in here.

  Dingo Dog's a complete wreck now. He's entitled to be as he's older than my underpants. After chasing around with a mop and bucket of filthy water a few times, I had an epiphany! 

  I have a good, old fashioned, shingley concrete floor, in here. Just like Dad had, at the kennels. And, what did He do? 

  So, I brought out this big bale of top quality sawdust I had for the canaries. It's fucking great! le Ding has any little upsets? So what?

  I can even weave that into it. See; Dad had a sort of steel box, out back. Always seemed fucking massive to me. Probably more like six foot square though. Thigh high to a grown man.

  But, yeah, we dumped all the 'used' sawdust (And Dog shit, of course) into that. And it was eternally smouldering. Five years that I knew of, it had always been smouldering.

  And, that was it. Top it up, each day. It'd smoulder and consume the new stuff. I guess the wind blew the dry ash away?

  What ever, Pat doesn't need to know that much. Once I hit him with the off hand but, obviously quite chuffed revelation that I've figured out this great new method of waste management?;

  Then I can gush happily on to outline how my Dad used to do the same thing, with the kennel waste. Pointing out how my sawdust (Dog shit and puke) also goes in there. I then shit onto that, as it smoulders. 

  If I can figure a way of knowing when he'll be here, I'll shove a cardboard box of sawdust in there and spark it up. Be a good touch, having a warm stove with a trickle of smoke coming out that chimney.

  I'm sat here, belly laughing my fucking arse off about this! He'll fucking Believe me! He absolutely fucking certainly won't ever be able to get his head round any shadow of a doubt that I'm just fucking with him! 

  Give it enough time for That one to become part of the mental scarring I inflict on the poor cunt; Then, I'll passingly mention how I'd found my sink sluggish.

  That'll link, seamlessly, back to the stove one. And will set in stone his total conviction that I'm some sort of fucking savage! ROFLMFAO!!! 

  Ye wait till I tell Tommy about this one! He'll have to pull over, so we can both have a fucking good cry with laughter!

Shit, Damn Ye ....!

As I was yelling, in my head, the other day .....

See; With all this fucking ice, it's an extremely, seriously dangerous business for me to get Chain Dog ~ my Rottie ~ out of her cage and out into the compound for her exercise and to have a shit. No amount of training can control a happy, healthy, youthful Dog when that door opens and she's Off. Mad fucker's so full of pent up madness, she just has to charge around a bit. I just run around behind her.

This is ok, in 'normal' conditions. I just have her on her short lead and let her have her head. I pretty much know where she'll want to go anyway. In what order. What she'll do when she gets there. And she likes to have a shit over by the compost box, or by the back gate.

Trouble is, due to the lay of the land here, her pulling me towards that area is like her pulling me onto a mine field! I'd break some major bones. Figure the rest out for yeself. Me, laying there, broken. Mad Dog bouncing around, wondering why I won't come play. She'd pull out of my hand. Chain Dog. At liberty? Fuck Right Off!

See? I have to think about this shit. I have to cover every hole. That's why I've now taken to locking her Long lead into the front gate bolt. I just hook her on there and stand back. She does her own thing, as safely as I can get it. Only, she can't reach her favoured spot in the universe. There for she won't shit.

Know what that means? Means she won't shit when and where it'd be best all round that she does. Means she'll just hold it in. And I give up freezing my bits off for half an hour and Bring her in. Another half hour and I feed her. Hey Presto! Soon as that damn flesh reaches her stomach, inside her cage, inside my room ..... She dumps! FFS!

So, few days back now, there we are. Chain Dog rushing hither and dither about the place. Sniffing at this. Pissing on that. But, simply refusing to Shit. " Shit, Chain! Just have a fucking shit, damn ye! ", I told her. She just bounded over toward me. Bum stump wagging furiously. Then shot off to peer in the window at the other Dogs, safely locked inside, away from her. She didn't shit.

I'd had days of this. Same old procedure. Inside an hour from now, I'd be screaming. Kicking her cage and bellowing at the other Dogs to get out of the room. So I could unlock Chain's cage and reach in there, plastic bag clad hand, and pick up the stinking delivery she'd make. I couldn't take much more of that.

Then I thought of Bob. Old friend of mine. A 'Dog Fighter'. Real deal too. Bob wouldn't talk on a forum, if he knew how. But, he knew his shit. And, through a course of things, I learned some weird shit through Bob. I remembered how he once told me one could make a Dog shit .....

Never! I couldn't; Could I? I mean ..... surely to fuck ....?!

But, I knew I couldn't take this much more. I was freezing to death, stood there. Wishing ~ Willing this damn Dog to Just Shit! I thought about it.

I eyed the cottaneaster hedge.

I only fuckin' did it ....!

And so did Chain Dog! " RrrMmph! ", plop, plop, plop! Right on the fucking button! Just as the doctor had ordered. Just as Bob had said. Respect to that man and his occult knowledge of things Dog!

I've learned from a Master.

Haven't had a problem with Chain since.

Oh; Except maybe catching hold of her; Once she's seen me get near that damn hedge! :D

Aaaaagh! This Is Just Fucking Gross ....!

Don't read this if 'easily' disgusted! In fact, if ye easily disgusted? Boy! Have You come to the wrong Blog, entirely?!

Real time. I'm just sat here, having finished the second pint of Coopers Dark Ale and feeling a little bit more like a human for it. (Or, " Hughhhh Munnn! ", as Arnie would say). Anyway, I'm actually feeling So 'good', I decided I might even be able to eat something today. Sadly, I haven't got any green stuff in the place. But, even chips, chops and gravy's starting to form an appeal to me right now. Cool.

So, I eye my empty glass. Another one doesn't seem a bad idea. Just take it easy. And, how about that bit of dinner? Why not? Oh. I'll just peel this fucker off, then I'll go get started.

Tense my wrists. Brace my elbows on the arms of my chair. Take my weight as I lift my arse and ..... " Spurrrrrrrrrrrttch! " My fucking balls are Floating in it!

I'm sat here. Eye's locked on the screen. Thinking; " I never just done that? Did I?! " I had. FFS!

Still half way in denial, I eyeball the roll of kitchen towel above my screen. Kept there for blowing my nose in ~ seriously. I figure maybe it just felt like I had. I reach up for it. (" Bobble! Dunk! ") My testicles are now singing, " A Life On The Ocean Wave ....! ".

It gets worse: No good hoping it'll go away. It won't do. I have to sort this. Up I get, folding this sheet of kitchen roll. Not too small now. There's obviously some paper work to be done here ..... Oh, jesus christ! Another sheet, methinks! This is Serious!

And then I catch sight of le Ding. Er ... No, son. This isn't a job for you. This is Serio ..... Oh, Dingo! For Fuck Sake ....!!! Urrrgghh!!!

I just can't shake this mental image of him now. Laying there, day in, night out. Waiting. Slyly licking his chops and thinking; " Bastard's getting older. Can't trust a fart at the best of times. One of these days ....! Mmmm, Yummy! And I'll be in there. In like Flynn and get me a hot load of the good stuff. "

Just what the fuck Is it with Dogs? He tries to sniff my face in the morning? I'm knocking him spark out!

Oh For Fucks Fucking Sake ....!

Just sat and eaten my dinner. Usual at this moment in time; Two pork chops and chips with gravy. Eat that every night. No problemmo. Suits me fine. Put my plate down for the Orange Dog to clean up, as ever. Then, deciding I fancy a piss, I step outside.

Now, work it out. It's only natural, isn't it? I only eat once a day. Normally quite late in the day. Stomach tends to develop a bit of air during said day. Dump a load of food into said stomach. Then piss. Obvious what's gonna happen. Yeah?

So, there I am. Stood there, pissing and farting. Good, long, healthy farts. Real lengthy peelers. And, of course, I'm adding to the fun by demonstrating my pleasure at these actions, for the benefit of my Dogs. Yes; I'm rendering a vocalised accompaniment.

There I am then. Dick out. Pissing a stream and farting long and loud. Going, " Ooooooh, Yes!!! " And, " Mmmmmmm!!!!! " to each, stretched, high pitched peeling. I was about entering into the third abdominal eviction when the Dogs heard something more like; " AaaaaahhhhhAAAAAAGHHHHHH!!!!! Oh, For Fuck Sake!!!!! ". As I felt the light, warm touch of an ostrich feather racing down the back of my left thigh, in a headlong rush for my slipper!

That'll do ye. Any more on this issue and it most decidedly would be 'Too Much Information!'. But, you just wait till ye get to my age. Then ye'll fucking find out!

Good job I can still be fast on my feet, have plenty of kitchen towel and Dogs about. Thought, for a minute there, I might even have to change into my other pair of trousers!