Showing posts with label Pancake Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pancake Day. Show all posts

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Not Covering Yourself in Glory


Sometimes a dog seems to need to go into self-destruct mode and get everything wrong. Pancake Day and we are having, as every year, Diamond and John round for pancakes, accompanied by Ragworth. Ragworth is, as ever perfectly friendly and not at all a dangerous or antisocial dog. He looks for all the world, perplexed that Haggis and (especially) I, do not love him as we should.
He trit-trots around restlessly and I seek high ground (lap or chair) from which I crane my nexk this way and that trying to keep him in sight, curling my lip as he passes close, growling if he gets even closer and shouting "RAFFF!" at him if he pushes his luck. With all this going on the humans find it hard to relax into the pancake making and eating, so when Dad jumps up to go to 2CV club in The Haywain, the other side of Canterbury, Mum suggests they take me. 2CV Llew always takes JR "Rosie" (Beer and tea-drinking dog) and 'Enthusiastic' Pete always brings brindled greyhound 'Janie' so the pub is well used to dogs. I should fit in well (it says here).
I like Rosie, so no problems all piled into the car. Arriving at the pub Rosie and I trot in on our leads and Dad and Llew step the 2 paces over the threshold to the bar and then hovver to order drinks before heading deeper into the pub to sit. After a few minutes there is a bit of commotion at the bar as 'someone' has done a poo on the wooden floor. Llew volunteers that it might be Rosie but Dad has other suspicions. Worse, a lady customer has stepped in it. There is much muttering and comment although no-one says anything direct to Llew and Dad (the only dog-owners in the pub!)
Soon enough Pete and Josie turn up with Janie with whom I normally have no issues. However, it seems I still have one on me about Rags, so I growl and create about Janie's approach and that sets Rosie off too. Soon all dogs are being held by the muzzle and told to calm down. Peace returns and Llew and Dad notice that all the tables in 'our' immediate vicinity have been vacated - everyone has relocated, even mid meal, to other parts of the pub.
Dad suggests we quietly slink out with our tails between our legs but Llew jokes that we should do no such thing. He has a 'blaze of glory' more in mind but this is a family blog so I cannot tell you what he suggested.
Then, to just about put a tin hat on it, we are back home in bed with Dad and we dogs having collapsed of exhaustion at 10 pm, so I decide to do a big pee on Mum's side of the bed. She is too tired to be angry, thankfully, and retreats to the spare room for the quietest, most delicious sleep, she says, of recent years!
It was not a good day to be a female westie.
May take some time to live it down
Meanwhile, if anyone had picked up on the lost local dog (Springer LB) who was AWOL for 48 hours he has now been found, 5 miles away in Graveley village and re-united, covered in burrs, mud and plant material, with very relieved owners Paul and Michelle
Deefs

Wednesday, 21 February 2007

Romantic texts and Pancake Day

We were all deserted by Dad Monday night, as he was off on business to Bristol, so it fell to us to protect Mum from ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night. So when Dad texted Mum with a romantic "Good morning - I am missing you" on Tuesday morning, he got back something along the lines of "Yeah, and I missed you too at Oh-Christ Hundred Hours in the morning when the foxes were kicking off in the back garden". Dad guessed someone had turned off the "Middle-of-the-night-dog-releasing-button" (Guess who usually has to get up to let us out!)

Dad got back in time for the pancake party. Mum had got the batter ready but neither Dad, nor John, Denis or Diamond had turned up yet, so instead of just lemons and sugar, Mum had got bored and started getting out ever more possible fillings - choc spread, jams, segments of satsuma, sliced banana, Greek honey..... you name it. She'd made gallons of batter, so everyone was full to bursting.

Poor old-Dad, we are told, didn't get any, as first-Mum (daren't call her "old"!) thinks they are just for kids. When he found out we'd had them, he sent first-Mum a "written warning" e-mail with photo's attached so she'd know what lemons looked like. He copped such a telling off! Poor old-Dad. Hope he didn't get too killed when he got home!

Now Mum and Dad are into something awful called "Lent" when they jokingly challenge each other to go without alchohol for 40 days and 40 nights. Bet they don't make it. They want me to give up poo-ing indoors. Might. Might not.... Mind you, apparently, when you are an Irish Catholic (Mum says) you are allowed an exemption on Paddy's Night. Even Bono says so, so it must be true.

Deefs