"Gone to Vetski with Deefski for Jabski", says the "amusing" note left by Dad for Mum, fridge-mageneted to the fridge. Very funny I'm sure (how we laughed!) for Mum, and Meggie and the H, but presaging for me the annual booster at nice Vet John's place. Unusually we actually get John - he's usually being much too important and clever to see the likes of us, and we get a succession of 2nd-in-command vets and locums.
I get weighed at 7.6 kgs, poked, prodded, stethoscoped and pronounced 100% fit and well. I get jabbed between the shoulder blades, which seems a bit harsh, but I only whimper instead of shrieking the house down, so everyone pronounces me "very brave". Shucks. Money changes hands and a suspicious crinkly blister-pack of foil is passed across and trousered by Dad.
A couple of days later, supper includes 2 strange pill-shaped white bits, and I get a minor belly ache. Haggis and Megan exchange glances knowingly. Nobody tells me what is going on.
A series of late finishes by Dad at work, have meant a succession of short, in-the-dark walks round the Rec. As long as it's not totally dark, this is a good thing, as lots of dog-walkers get concentrated into a compressed "window" and we meet everybody.
They say you can't be popular with everybody. Although we are a sociable bunch, and have no real enemies, there's this one dark Alsatian who gets walked in the Rec in the dark, always on the lead. suspect this is because he is not the most sociable of beasts. I don't know what it is - he just gets to me, lurking and looming out of the dark like that. I just have to charge at him shouting.
Sometimes I give a few alert barks into the shadows (we'll call it a "pre-emptive strike" but the cynics among you might think I'm nervous of unseen beasties in the dark....."). This gives Dad a chance to grab my collar.
If he fails, and I go into charge mode, we end up with me running round the dark Alsatian shouting, just out of lead range, alternating shouts with squeaks of "He's gonna kill me!" drama-queen-dom. The Alsatian in turn dances round the owner pulling on the lead and shouting and snarling back.
The Dad joins in the shouting and dancing (at me! the nerve!) till he grabs me, apologises to the mysterious, quiet, unspeaking man hanging onto the Alsatian.
It all goes quiet again. Doesn't happen very often, but it did happen on Thursday at about 5 pm, in the dark and the rain. By coincidence, Mum is walking across the bottom of the Rec on her way home from work and hears, in the distance a doggie, shouting commotion which she thinks "vaguely reminds (her) of Deefer", but convinced that we'd not be still out at that time in the rain, she walks on by.
Getting home and finding us all still out she realises it's us she may have heard.
Ooops
Maybe I deserved the jab and the belly-ache tablets
Deefer
Saturday, 29 November 2008
Thursday, 27 November 2008
Long Leather Pouffe
Real Mum (Mollie) is upset and bereft. My real family spend a lot of their time up on the back of the sofa where they can look out of the window, nosey-ing passers by, shouting at the local foxes strolling down the road, and keeping an eye on things. This is thought to be where I got my own love of sleeping along the backs of sofas and settees, even though ours is against a wall, and we can't see the road. Mum and Dad say Meg and the H did enough damage to the back of the old sofa when they were young and the sofa was against the window.
The back of the sofa, says First-Dad, was shot to bits, by the scrabbling actions of multiple dog feet.
Well now the entire downstairs has been re-decorated, paint, wallpaper and new furniture, with the new sofa not being in the same place, so suddenly the dogs cannot see out. Hector and Arch are apparently fairly chilled about this and just crash out on the dog-bed, but real-Mum Mollie is stressed to the max. She paces the room chuntering to herself, moaning and groaning.
First-Dad's answer to this is to buy a "long leather pouffe" to go under the window so that the dogs can all see out again. Such devotion. Don't think there's any chance of my Dad buying me any leather furniture all to myself........
Meanwhile we need another Hallowe'en. One by-product of 4 small children racing round the neighbourhood being given small parcels and bags of sweeties was, when the sweeties were stripped out into the crate, a mountain of small poo-bag sized polythene bags! Almost all used up now, Mr Silverwood, so if you could arrange for another Hallowe'en soon, that'd be great.
Deefer
The back of the sofa, says First-Dad, was shot to bits, by the scrabbling actions of multiple dog feet.
Well now the entire downstairs has been re-decorated, paint, wallpaper and new furniture, with the new sofa not being in the same place, so suddenly the dogs cannot see out. Hector and Arch are apparently fairly chilled about this and just crash out on the dog-bed, but real-Mum Mollie is stressed to the max. She paces the room chuntering to herself, moaning and groaning.
First-Dad's answer to this is to buy a "long leather pouffe" to go under the window so that the dogs can all see out again. Such devotion. Don't think there's any chance of my Dad buying me any leather furniture all to myself........
Meanwhile we need another Hallowe'en. One by-product of 4 small children racing round the neighbourhood being given small parcels and bags of sweeties was, when the sweeties were stripped out into the crate, a mountain of small poo-bag sized polythene bags! Almost all used up now, Mr Silverwood, so if you could arrange for another Hallowe'en soon, that'd be great.
Deefer
Sunday, 23 November 2008
White stuff!
We wake up to some quite convincing snowfall - big flakes drifting down, the tops of cars, walls and the pavement white. But this is Kent, where we don't get that lucky. 10 minutes later it's all turned to rain and in half an hour you'd not have known it had even been snowing. Maybe next time.
We get a nice walk round the cemetery and the Rec but Meggie's a bit tired after her forest yesterday, and she's not really into it. She drags behind looking mopey, and Dad cuts short the route out of sympathy for her tired ol' frame. We all come back, anyway, looking grubby and drowned-rat ish, so we get shut behind the dog-gate while we dry out.
Mum is packing, off with Diamond on their annual Christmas Shopping mission. This year, for various reasons, it's not to Paris, but instead to a marvellous retail therapy centre they've heard all about in Bicester, Oxfordshire. Look out Bicester!
Deefer
We get a nice walk round the cemetery and the Rec but Meggie's a bit tired after her forest yesterday, and she's not really into it. She drags behind looking mopey, and Dad cuts short the route out of sympathy for her tired ol' frame. We all come back, anyway, looking grubby and drowned-rat ish, so we get shut behind the dog-gate while we dry out.
Mum is packing, off with Diamond on their annual Christmas Shopping mission. This year, for various reasons, it's not to Paris, but instead to a marvellous retail therapy centre they've heard all about in Bicester, Oxfordshire. Look out Bicester!
Deefer
Saturday, 22 November 2008
Banjo on my Knee
None of the forecast snow yet; we wake up to beautiful clear skies and bright sunshine. That biting wind is still blowing, though. We get two walks today, one round the Rec to let off steam, and have a good run around with brown nondescript terrier (no offence!) Murphy and one, later to Challock Forest. In between the humans have a bit of a lazy morning reading the papers and what-not, and Dad scoots up to the allotment to give it one last tidy-up mow before winter really sets in.
Mum's off to the shops with Diamond in the "normal" car, so Dad and we dogs are 2CV-ing it to the forest. The leaves are all down - the chestnut, larch and even the beech are in stark skeleton form, and the forest floor is a blanket of the russets and browns of slightly soiled, bedraggled autumn leaves.
Here we meet and chase about with 6 month old black and white Staffie, Banjo. "Why Banjo?" asks Dad. Well, when he was a pup he used to like perching on my knee when ever I sat down, and "her indoors" called him Banjo on my Knee, and the name stuck. Fair enough.
It's a good walk, and now we're all crashing out in various corners of the house to sleep at each other.... Dad included
Deefer
Mum's off to the shops with Diamond in the "normal" car, so Dad and we dogs are 2CV-ing it to the forest. The leaves are all down - the chestnut, larch and even the beech are in stark skeleton form, and the forest floor is a blanket of the russets and browns of slightly soiled, bedraggled autumn leaves.
Here we meet and chase about with 6 month old black and white Staffie, Banjo. "Why Banjo?" asks Dad. Well, when he was a pup he used to like perching on my knee when ever I sat down, and "her indoors" called him Banjo on my Knee, and the name stuck. Fair enough.
It's a good walk, and now we're all crashing out in various corners of the house to sleep at each other.... Dad included
Deefer
Friday, 21 November 2008
The North Wind Shall Blow
...well, the North West one, maybe. Suffice to say the wind has swung round to the North and is bitterly cold. After a run of mild evenings and still-ish nights , the temperature has plummeted to 3 degrees and it's perishing. Luckily we have a coal fire laid that Dad can just put a match to.
He was home at a sensible time for once, so we all converged on the Rec while there was still plenty of light, and we knew lots of other dog walkers would be about. These short evenings compress everybody into the same short hour, after work and before it's dark.
Everybody was about - we saw young male westie, Magic, red setter Bailey, an unknown Staffie came racing over to say Hi, and we met two new kids on the block. A small red spaniel (King Charles?) called Rua (which we are told is Irish for "red"), and a gorgeous blond young Goldie called Angus.
I also had a major charge about after the yellow frisbee-ring, looking a bit the worse for wear by now, but still (just) a complete ring, so throw-able. Now we're "home and hosed", fed and chilling out round the fire.
Have a great weekend, one and all.
Deefer
He was home at a sensible time for once, so we all converged on the Rec while there was still plenty of light, and we knew lots of other dog walkers would be about. These short evenings compress everybody into the same short hour, after work and before it's dark.
Everybody was about - we saw young male westie, Magic, red setter Bailey, an unknown Staffie came racing over to say Hi, and we met two new kids on the block. A small red spaniel (King Charles?) called Rua (which we are told is Irish for "red"), and a gorgeous blond young Goldie called Angus.
I also had a major charge about after the yellow frisbee-ring, looking a bit the worse for wear by now, but still (just) a complete ring, so throw-able. Now we're "home and hosed", fed and chilling out round the fire.
Have a great weekend, one and all.
Deefer
Thursday, 20 November 2008
Aye Aye Chicken Pie
Pssssst....... (shhhhh!) pretend you've not noticed we said we might stop.......
"Aye Aye, Chicken Pie" is an expression they use a lot at Dad's work - it's just an embellished version of the ordinary "Aye aye", as in "hello hello - what's going on here then?", or "Hey - I didn't expect that". Dad's brought it home and came out with a couple of times in Ireland, at Silverwood's, to 3 year old "M"
"M" took to it like a duck to water and Dad and he were frequently to be heard parrotting "Aye aye chicken pie" 's back and forth. M seemed to like the sound of it and it was a new bit of vocabulary to practise his skills on. Cutely, though, in the way of 3 year olds, he couldn't quite get it right and half the reason Dad kept him going with it was the smile they all had when he didn't quite copy it.
His was more like "Aye yike cheeky poy!" (the same way he says "I like that, or I don't "yike" that). We ended up with these series of bizarre exchanges - Dad would say "Aye aye Chicken pie", M would come back with "I yike cheeky poy" and Mrs Silverwood or Mum would say "do you fancy some for tea then?"
And while we're on Ireland you Silverwoods. Mum has now got back the statements for the diesel we bought over there. Coming from UK, where diesel hit £1.25 / litre at worst, so a tank full was £75 GB, Dad is all nostalgic for the tank full we bought in Portmarnock for 1.09 Euros a litre - 52.41 Eutos total - a big £ 42.84 UK. What's that all about? he says.
Deefer's-still-here.
"Aye Aye, Chicken Pie" is an expression they use a lot at Dad's work - it's just an embellished version of the ordinary "Aye aye", as in "hello hello - what's going on here then?", or "Hey - I didn't expect that". Dad's brought it home and came out with a couple of times in Ireland, at Silverwood's, to 3 year old "M"
"M" took to it like a duck to water and Dad and he were frequently to be heard parrotting "Aye aye chicken pie" 's back and forth. M seemed to like the sound of it and it was a new bit of vocabulary to practise his skills on. Cutely, though, in the way of 3 year olds, he couldn't quite get it right and half the reason Dad kept him going with it was the smile they all had when he didn't quite copy it.
His was more like "Aye yike cheeky poy!" (the same way he says "I like that, or I don't "yike" that). We ended up with these series of bizarre exchanges - Dad would say "Aye aye Chicken pie", M would come back with "I yike cheeky poy" and Mrs Silverwood or Mum would say "do you fancy some for tea then?"
And while we're on Ireland you Silverwoods. Mum has now got back the statements for the diesel we bought over there. Coming from UK, where diesel hit £1.25 / litre at worst, so a tank full was £75 GB, Dad is all nostalgic for the tank full we bought in Portmarnock for 1.09 Euros a litre - 52.41 Eutos total - a big £ 42.84 UK. What's that all about? he says.
Deefer's-still-here.
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
Knick Knack Paddy-Whack
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday, you Deefer-Dawg Blog
Happy Birthday to youuuuuuuu!
(Cheers, cries of "Speech! speech!" etc)
Yes, this blog is 2 years old today, so in celebration we have been tried out on a new chew food-stuff, going by the name of "paddy whack". Possibly it's only known as paddy-whack by canny dog food marketing men cashing in on the "give the dog a bone" context, but that's what it's called at our animal feeds store, Gillett Cook's, just outside Teynham
http://www.agregister.co.uk/company-82247485.html
It looks like it might be the tendonny, sinewy bits of beef, cut away into 1-2" wide, 6 inch long "battens". Very tough, anyway - where you can cut down tripe sticks and pigs ears with a garden secateurs, you don't make much impression on this stuff. As a result, we dogs LOVE it, and it keeps us amused for hours a-chewing.
As to the 2 year anniversary, is that enough do you think? Is now a sensible time to run out of steam and call it a day? I don't know - watch this space. I may return as and when things inspire me.
Meanwhile, down in Hastings, the T-fer mobile is not well after its tete-a-tete with the 5-up car. As T-fer texts to say repairs would be £4750, only minutely less than the vehicle was worth, "so it's good bye from her". T-fer will be out hunting down a replacement.
Ah well, readers - just in case this is the last posting, thank you all for your interest, and your kind comments. It's been fun to write this, and take and choose the photo's for it, to go with the adventures. In truth, I am a bit of a diary addict, so I'll probably crack and sneak in every now and again to add a post here and there. Watch this space.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's paddy-whack to work on.
Fare well
Deefer, and love too from all the other characters I've featured.
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday, you Deefer-Dawg Blog
Happy Birthday to youuuuuuuu!
(Cheers, cries of "Speech! speech!" etc)
Yes, this blog is 2 years old today, so in celebration we have been tried out on a new chew food-stuff, going by the name of "paddy whack". Possibly it's only known as paddy-whack by canny dog food marketing men cashing in on the "give the dog a bone" context, but that's what it's called at our animal feeds store, Gillett Cook's, just outside Teynham
http://www.agregister.co.uk/company-82247485.html
It looks like it might be the tendonny, sinewy bits of beef, cut away into 1-2" wide, 6 inch long "battens". Very tough, anyway - where you can cut down tripe sticks and pigs ears with a garden secateurs, you don't make much impression on this stuff. As a result, we dogs LOVE it, and it keeps us amused for hours a-chewing.
As to the 2 year anniversary, is that enough do you think? Is now a sensible time to run out of steam and call it a day? I don't know - watch this space. I may return as and when things inspire me.
Meanwhile, down in Hastings, the T-fer mobile is not well after its tete-a-tete with the 5-up car. As T-fer texts to say repairs would be £4750, only minutely less than the vehicle was worth, "so it's good bye from her". T-fer will be out hunting down a replacement.
Ah well, readers - just in case this is the last posting, thank you all for your interest, and your kind comments. It's been fun to write this, and take and choose the photo's for it, to go with the adventures. In truth, I am a bit of a diary addict, so I'll probably crack and sneak in every now and again to add a post here and there. Watch this space.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's paddy-whack to work on.
Fare well
Deefer, and love too from all the other characters I've featured.
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