I have been absent for far too long. My apologies. I came home from my ship and Christmas preparations and school nativity plays swallowed me whole. It is only now that I can emerge, blinking, into the pale dawn of a new year to take up the reins of my life again.
Well, I say reins. Actually I’m mostly found clutching the end of a dog lead or two. One is standard, long enough to reach the ground from my hand and has the small but perfectly formed Floyd on the other end. The other is long, double thickness, double strength and has the enormous, muscular and somewhat dim Doberman, Eric attached to it. Forgive me if you dislike my calling him dim but Eric is our second Doberman and, like his predecessor, Alfie, he isn’t blessed with a high I.Q. My sister is certain that as a breed they are closely related to Goldfish.
An example of this is;
‘Eric get in your bed.’
Clickety-clickety-clickety (sound of dog claws on floor boards), ‘Hummmmmmmph.’ (Sound of grumpy dog lying down.)
15 seconds later, clickety-clickety-clickety.
‘Eric! Get back in your bed. Go on!’
Blank stare from dog as if to say, ‘Who me? Me? You want me to lie in my bed? Oh.’ Clickety-clickety-clickety, ‘hummmmmph.’
15 second later, clickety-clickety-clickety.
‘Eric! For God’s sake!!’
And so on. This can go on all day. Floyd, meanwhile, nicks Eric’s dog chew, throws the pillows from my bed and sneaks under the duvet with it. Eric is ten times Floyd’s size but Floyd wears the trousers in this house – so to speak. We have even been greeted by the ridiculous sight of Eric trying to curl up in the tiny round bed that Floyd used to love and live in whilst Floyd spread-eagles himself across the vast expanse of Eric’s fleecy single-bed sized mattress. Catch him at it and Floyd will wag his tail and look meekly harmless.
‘Please don’t tell me off,’ his big brown eyes seem to say. ‘I’m sure I don’t know how I came to be on Eric’s bed, honest I don’t.’ His little tail pat-pats against the mattress and between his paws will be whichever toy Eric is currently fond of. Yes, there’s no doubting who’s boss in this house.
Luckily though, both dogs have a sense of humour which is just as well or they’d both have left home fairly quickly once they’d got to know us.
Let me prove with pictures from Christmas Day;
Needless to say, our indestructible cat, Rufus, took a great deal of interest in the dogs’ plight …
But hey, we are just soooo glad that Rufus made it through another Christmas. And another New Year! He needn’t be awake, we can hear him snoring from all over the house and that’s good enough for us. (If you are a stranger to Rufus and why we are glad he’s still here, might I humbly suggest you check out, He’s Too Sexy where all will be revealed.)
Meanwhile, out in my bedroom, Moriarty the Master Criminal is hiding. He doesn’t like Eric. Eric thinks he can chase Moriarty across the back garden but worry not for Moriarty is biding his time. Small, fast and merciless, this black cat will wait in the shadows as he did when he was a feral kitten, and he will strike without warning. Eric will get his comeuppance. Christmas has been a time of truce. Eric and Moriarty didn’t exactly climb out of their trenches to play football but they did avoid inflicting damage on each other – now that the festive period is over, I fear that hostilities will resume quickly. Look out Eric, you big daftie, Moriarty is stalking you from the shadows.