Monday, March 29, 2010

My Dog Rocks....

....as in the verb of greatness.  I do not have rocks that belong to a dog, nor rocks that resemble a dog in a quirky and collectible way, nor do I mean my dog sits around swaying.

Nope, what I mean is that Ellen is back to being the greatest dog in the world on account of having buried her demons (along with her expensive chew toy) and PASSING BEGINNERS' OBEDIENCE!!!


She now has a certificate to prove that she is obedient.  Note that the certificate also says that I am obedient.  I intend to wave this certificate at the Fella every time Ellen or I eat one of his socks, decline to come when called, jump on him excitedly and muddy his suit, or decide we'll have a bit of a go at the aspidistra.

Ellen did beautifully in her exam, but not perfectly.  Take for example the "Group Sit" exercise, where the dogs have to sit for 30 seconds.

Here is what all the dogs in the class were doing:

Click to embiggen.  It will still be blurry, but it will be big and blurry.

And she was fine in the individual exercises....

....once she learned to face the right way.


This time she didn't even try to eat the traffic cone!

She was even an angel on the way home.  I guess it's pretty tiring being well-behaved for a whole hour.


We start intermediate classes next week.  I am not overly-confident.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Thievery

A few minutes ago I was in the loungeroom when I spied through our lacy curtains The Child From Next Door, creeping, sneaking and generally insinuating herself into our front yard.  Clutched to her shirred cotton bodice was a small plastic container.

Was it an ice-cream container? An old take-away container that had lost its lid? Perhaps a margarine tub? Or did it once hold I Can't Believe It's Not Butter?  These questions are neither important, nor interesting.  Just leave it alone and let me get on with the story, will you?

Looking furtively from side to side, with those narrowed eyes that the young have when they know they are alone and free to be evil, The Child slunk up to a fine shrubbery and began plucking blossoms from it to fill her container.

I observed this, horrified.  Well, maybe not horrified.  Probably just a bit surprised, to be honest.  It's a nice shrubbery, but not so nice that I would expect it to inspire this premeditated crime.

Of course, as is my way, vague surprise gave way to indignation, spluttering rage and chest pains.  I clenched all my clenchables and mulled over my options:

a:  Do nothing.
b:  Reinforce any image the family has of me as the "Crazy Woman Next Door Who Is Often Outside In Her Pyjamas Cussing At The Lemon Tree" by running outside with unbrushed hair, screaming at The Child and clawing back my blossoms, then throwing Stuart at her little fleeing floral back.
c:  Plan to steal something of theirs.

For me, laziness is always the most attractive option, so I sit here with a partially de-blossomed shrubbery while The Child is off enjoying her booty.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Haikus That Capture The Low Points Of My Day Today

It's cozy in bed.
But what is that shooting pain?
Fat cat sleeps on legs.

Lovely crusty loaf
makes superior toast but
all gone. Bran for me.

New Subway at school.
No! Horror! Vomit! Distaste!
Stinky, stinky stink.

Driving home with smile.
All calm, but anger rises
at cretin in Merc.

Ellen walks in sun
but stops for telltale action.
This will need two bags.

Glass of wine soothes soul.
A second would be tasty
Alas!  All gone.  Sad.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Ellen Get Your Gun

It's generally easy to tell when Ellen has been digging.  There are holes where no holes should be, there are more treasures added to Ellen's "Found Objects" pile, and sometimes, if you look very closely, you can see a hint of dirt on her face.


Usually, Ellen's recovered objects are fairly pedestrian (not actual pedestrians), but the other day I came home to find her with this between her front paws:


She was chewing on the barrel, so I don't think she knows a lot about gun safety, but the greater concern was what she was doing with a weapon in the first place.  Labradors are not generally given to vengeance, murder, pistol-whipping, target shooting, vigilanteism, reckless discharge of weapons in a fit of celebration, bank robbing, shooting road signs, or any of the other main uses of firearms.  I can only suppose she intended to take her strategy of barking at her enemies to the next level.

Ellen's enemies, some of which we have in common, are:
  • The mother possum
  • The father possum
  • The baby possum
  • Pigeons
  • Ants
  • The recycling truck
  • Bees
  • High winds
  • Frozen meat
The gun has been confiscated, so I guess we'll never know which one was the target.  

And that's the end of that story.  

Unless the gun falls into more evil hands.....


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