Ouchy

...needlepoint?' I asked, 'he does enjoy a spot of embroidery and I wondered, in your opinion, if he may have slipped and caught himself in the eye with his needle?'

The Scottish vet looked at me for a moment, and said

'In my professional opinion Ms Hartley, I think it likely that he has perhaps caught his eye on a twig, or some such stuff, while in the garden. Also, that you might consider professional help yourself'

Fing

I don't know what Boy has done, but he has the gammiest eye in creation. I think he may of been fighting, been jabbed by a sharp stick as he came over the garden fence, or has inadvertently poked himself in the retina with a sewing needle, in a horrific needlepoint accident.

Vets at 7.20.

Maelstrom

Trotter did not like the thunder last night. Originally the roiling noise in the background had left him undisturbed until a massive crack awoke him and the chubbiest dog, who started to bark in distress.

Trotter, convinced we were perhaps being burgled, ran downstairs to run around aimlessly barking at the darkness.

In the end I had to have him in bed with me where he grumbled unhappily for quite some time.

Poor Trotter.

A Descent of Woodpeckers.

'Fing', asks Trotter,' what would you call it if it was a group of sharks, is it a shaol?'

'No', says Fing, 'That would be a Shiver of sharks'

'It is?' says Trotter, then thinks for a while. 'And hippo's, what is a group of Hippo's called'

'A Bloat', says Fing, casting a sideways glance at Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest Dog in the West.

'Bears?'

'a Sloth

'Giraffes?'

'a Tower

'Ravens?'

'an Unkindness

'And Me, Fing, what would a group of me be?'

'Well now Trotter, I think you'll find that would be a Chaos', says Fing, before swanning out of the door in his new leather swimming trunks and black afro wig.

Dead Men Tell No Tails

Captain Skipjack is patrolling the beer garden, he is trying to walk with a rolling gait to feel like he is at sea. Unfortunately the hard concrete does not feel like wood. Tragically there are no sails flapping overhead, no sea air in his whiskery face. He sighs and sticks his head through the gate for an experimental sniff, no. No tuna.

But wait! What was that?

Shiver me timbers! There's only a scurvy riddled rat edging its way incautiously down the side of the fence by the beer barrels!

Captain Jack calls fall his trusty, if distracted, bosun Lucas by day, Duncan by Night!

Lucas by day, Duncan by night had been standing and wagging his tail at the corner of the sitting room since breakfast so was more than prepared for the challenge. He raced down the stairs and harried the scurvy riddled rat! He chased him round the barrels, he caught him by the tail and killed him all of a sudden with not even so much as an apology!

'WOOF' barks the Captain! 'WOOF' and him and the Bosun run like maniacs round and round the garden to celebrate.

Crazy like a FOX!

Fing practises his crazy Samba rythms to Shakira's 'Whenever Wherever'

As he weaves across the floor he sings at the top of his voice,

'Lucky that my lips not only mumble
They spill kisses like a fountain
Lucky that my breasts are small and humble
So you don't confuse them with mountains
Lucky i have strong legs like my mother
To run for cover when i need it
And these two eyes are for no other
The day you leave will cry a river'

And can't help but wonder if the poor woman has a drug problem.

They couldn't touch us even if they tried

The pets are laying in the garden in small, hot, furry heaps, Fing has purchased a paddling pool for everyone and they are taking it in turns to dangle their paws in the water.

They are listening to Stevie Wonder's 'Hotter than July' and wondering how it could possibly be hotter without the world bursting into flame.

'I wish I was a Fish'. says Trotter and, for once, everyone agree's with him.

A Tall Tale

'Racoons are the most dangerous animals in the world. They are more dangerous than a charging bull elephant, more lethal than a hippo playing water polo.

They are more menacing than a pride of lions, tackling with them is more perilous than poking a cobra with a stick.

They will break into your house and raid the fridge, they will turn on your telly and watch the superbowl, then they will crap in your cupboard, trash the bin, rip up your clothes and then get trapped somewhere by accident.

It is at this point that they are most dangerous because when you find them in their trapped place they will probably be wearing your underwear and they are so embarrassed at being caught that they react with extreme violence - leaping from the trapped place and attacking your ankles'.

Fing looks at Trotter with a sceptical eye and asks, 'Are you sure you're not making this up as you go along?'

'No,' says Trotter. 'I know this for a fact as I am distantly related to them'

'Saints preserve us' mutters Fing and gets back to his broidery anglaise.

Carpe Diem

Yesterday I found Trotter in the hallway, furiously shredding something held in his tiny paws.

What could it be I wondered?

Why, it was the conservative party manifesto.

That's my boy!

Strange but True.

In some gardens there are pretty flowers.

In some there are cabbages and marrows and runner beans.

Some are covered in paving slabs whilst others are nothing but long grass.

In Thelma's garden there are dead herbs and a wastepipe that leads to an alternative Narnia where Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face is a tax inspector apparently.

Stranger things have happened at sea, but not much in my experience.

lacking

'Look Missus', says Ginge, the Ginger Junkie, to Varne, 'i'm telling you now there just isn't enough blanket here'

'So', asks Fing, after a lengthy discussion, 'in your opionion, what did the Roman's ever do for us?'



Tutz stretches on the second floor of her scratchy pole until her face is completely upside down yet on a level with Fing's, 'pppppprrrrOOOOOOOOTttttttt' she says, 'PPRROOTTTT!'



The other pets nod thoughtfully and consider her words for a moment, 'that's as may be Tutz' says Trotter, 'but I think their main achievement must surely be cement?'



'What about underfloor heating?' ask Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, 'Or lovely straight roads?' says Giggsey Girl the stupid slug face.



'come, come' says Fat Boy Faggot, briskly from beside the book case, 'surely it's got to be Prada, Diesel and Gucci?'

Fundraiser.

It was a lovely day as the pets gathered in the Brewery Gate to join in the Oxford Pride Sponsored walk. Fat Boy Faggots thorny paw had healed up quite nicely and everyone commented on how brave he was to soldier on with such an injury.

Fing wore his new pink sun visor and Trotter wore welly boots, just in case of inclement weather.

Shane was wearing his hot pants underneath his trousers, just in case of emergency and Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, was wearing a crash helmet as she had no idea what to expect and is, afterall, stupid.

We were also joined by Winnie, Win win win, ex landlady of the Jolly, and tiny Margo form Cuddesdon, all resplendent in a blue sparkly collar and matching hotpants.

There was an air of great excitement and jollity, and the pets couldn't help but notice that several of the walkers were a little bit tip-toir, if not downright pissed as parrots.

Off they set, down Walton Street to the Jude, then to the Victoria arms. After a calm start to the day they then set off across the meadow.

No one had mentioned the heard of cows, the cow-pats, the thistles or the belligerent horses that wouldn't speak to you no matter how hard you tried.

Lorna, who had joined us at the Vicky, only has open toed sandals on so she suffered the most with the thistles, although even with socks and trainers in those bloody things made quite an impression.

We ordered drinks at the Trout and collapsed in an untidy jumble in the Garden. There was a feeling that the bar staff didn't approve of the drunkenness, but then, it might have been pets in hotpants, crash helmets and welly boots that tipped them over the edge. Who can be certain, but they were all a bit thin lipped and posh and wouldn't serve Trotter chips with chicken nuggets. Poor Trotter.

And so, the end was near, and we charged back across the meadow, choosing the quicker, straight across the meadow, route. This was very fool hardy as the thistles here were even bigger and the cows had been doing landscape gardening and had ploughed up all the ground.

None the less we made it, back to the Brewery Gate where a lovely buffet awaited.

indeed

Fat Boy Faggot returned from a nights cruising with a thorn in his paw. He sat with great stoicsm as Fing removed the thorn with a pair of tweezers.

I'm very worried about the sponsored walk tomorrow, he confided to Fing,

How on earth am I supposed to troll up the tober with a naff bat?

A spoonful of sugar

She proved to be quite a treasure as a nurse,' reads Fing to Trotter, 'Of course her kennel was in the nursery. She had a genius for knowing when a cough is a thing to have no patience with and when it needs a stocking around your throughout'

Trotters eyes are as round as saucers, I don't like the sound of that!' he says.

Fing closes his book and looks at Trotter over the top of his bi focals.

'I overheard Martha talking with Varne in the kitchen the other day. Apparently this Nana is coming to whip you into shape'

'it'll take more than a St Bernard in a pinny to whip me into shape!', cries Trotter! and with a 'HA HA HA HA!!!' runs up the stairs for his black cape.

Fing smiles his evil malicious smile and wonders how much trouble Trotter will be in by the time Martha gets home.

Selby

'where have you been'? Asks Fing.

'Wierdly enough, I've been talking to that Squirrel that lives in our tree', says Trotter, 'Did you know that the Squirrels of the world are presently fighting a war of attrition against the other rodents?'

Fing raises a graceful beige eyebrow, 'Attrition?'

'Yes apparently, the Squirrels, led by Selby in the back yard, are currently fighting against a combined hoard of Stoats, Weasels, Ferrets and Gerbils. Although the Squirrels have numbers on their side, apparently the Stoats are dead good mechanics and as a result have light armored infantry'

'Well I hope the Stoat's win, says Fing, 'In my opinion Squirrels are nothing but rats with bushy tails, and the way that one fiddles with his nuts at the end of the garden is really beginning to annoy me.'

Some Places

In some places in the world Goats are irrigation experts and enjoy long lives as engineers building wells and channels made from mud and elephant dung. The Goats take no payment for their toils as they enjoy enriching the lives of small black children such as these.

In other places Goats are wrongly accused of being devil worshippers and are victimized by local Christians and those with learning disabilities.

And I Say to Myself

What a wonderful world.

Fings Proverb of the Day

Better to live one day as a tiger than a thousand years as a sheep.

Trotters Proverb of the Day

The Bigger they are, the harder they fall.

BOY

OH MY GOD I love him so much I could eat him up whole.

TUTZ and her stretchy legs.

Crock revisited

Why is the rainbow on fire?' whispers Trotter.

'I told you not to take that Acid' says Fing.

Kick Arse

I get no kick from champagne
Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all
So tell me why should it be true
That I get a kick out of Trot.

Some get their kicks from cocaine
I'm sure that if I took even one sniff
That would bore me terrifically too,
But I get a kick out of Trot.

Oh I get a kick out of Trot!!!!!

TROTTER!

Patches

We are all long familiar with Trotter and his peculiarities.

When he barks at you when you're eating pizza you give him the crust.

When someone needs to leave the house you feed him cheese.

Friends and family enter the house holding their bags above their heads.

All the cushions need to be on the bench to stop him humping them.

We smile at him fondly when he repeately wanders around the table, time and time again, in a happy yet distracted fashion.

We shout at him loudly when he barks at Thelma and wave his bowl over his head if we need to make him drop something.

So when Trotter suddenly started to calmy lick my leg earlier, slightly below the knee, I didn't think it unusual. As he continued to lick my leg I was suddenly over come with a deep and abiding love the poor, derranged, little man.

It wasn't until I was in the bath that I realised the little bastard had licked off all my fake tan. I look like one of those people with a wierd pigmentation problem. I had better not let him lick my arms or my other leg because I might end up looking like Michael Jackson, but with a nose.

The Sound of Silence

This week Fing has been listening to Nana Mouskouri.

Tutz has been listening to Terror Squad.

Fat Boy Faggot has been listening to Euphoric dance.

Truly Scrumptious Lulu, the chubbiest dog in the west, has been listening to Led Zeppelin.

Giggsey Girl, the stupid slug face, has been listening to James Blunt, because she's wierd like that.

Trotter? Trotter has been listening to Abba's greatest hits and singing along all out of tune. But we love him so we don't care.

Ouchy

It was a day of ups and downs for Trotter and Fing yesterday.

An up for Fing, who found a pair of lovely shorts in pri mark for only £1.

A day of downs for Trotter, who went arse over tit on some discarded cabbage leaves outside of Sainsburys.

He has a terribly bruised behind.