lady stuff

dear readers, my lady friend has been in the wars this week. as i have mentioned, she had to have her lady bits removed and various other stuff done. while she was under the knife it was discovered that she had one or two lumps that should not have been there in the, er, chest area.

(there is an ongoing debate in our house about what this area of a lady should be called. my boy calls them 'boobs' but herself says this makes them sound like mistakes and insists that he call them 'breasts'. my boy of course ignores any attempt at political correctness but i am more circumspect. i know what side my bread is buttered on - that's a saying, dear readers, bread is not good for dogs - so i will call it a chest to be on the safe side.)

anyway, my lady friend has what may be a mammary tumour. samples will be sent to the lab to find out if it is as scary as it sounds. the vet is hopeful things will be fine. so my lady friend has 3 sets of stitches where she should have one. but the scars will make her fit in better round here. i would look like a map of a railway if you were to shave my fur off.

as well as the surgery, my lady friend had the dog lady round today to sort out her head. this lady is a sort of psychiatrist for dogs. she was very nice and had a tube of cheese with ham in which she used to take my lady friend's mind off things while herself practiced stroking her where the sore bits were. then they went out for a walk and the dog lady groomed my lady friend while they were going up the road - sort of mobile hairdressing.

anyway, it seems that the tube of cheese is the key to it all. i may have to start objecting to being touched so i can get some cheese. but i'm a bit of a cuddle-monster so i'm not sure i could keep it up...

ooooh! bling!

ooh readers - i have been awarded an award! it is particularly fitting that it is a true blue award - it will match my eye! thank you maddy!

now i have to work out how to award it to other people.... i think i have to make some links and then you have to go and read their blogs. i think this award is for people who pop by regularly so without further ado:

flutter
patience
eileen
crazymumma
deb
graham

so there you are people - go forth and enjoy!

pants

dear readers, this week is the half term holiday. this means that my boy and himself are both at home. himself works in a school so manages to have holidays at all sorts of odd times. so they are both around the house, getting underfoot and playing on their respective computers. herself is of course at home anyway at the moment. she was sitting in bed laptopping yesterday when himself came into the bedroom and said indignantly, "where are all my pants?" (for my american readers i should explain that in these parts pants are what you wear under trousers).

"how should i know?" asked herself.

"well, have you washed them? you must remember where you put them!"

this prompted an explosion from herself. "i am so going to blog this! you sound like some unreconstructed caveman with your 'wife, find me my pants' thing! at the moment i am trying to make a list of all the stuff we have to remember to do for moving house. i don't have room in my brain for a numbered diagram of where all your underwear is located as well!"

himself slunk out, muttering.

then in came my boy. he is in the middle of a campaign to persuade the peeps to buy him a particularly nasty computer game. up until this week the peeps were united in their opposition to this, but a visit to some friends with young folks earlier this week has weakened himself's resolve considerably. these young folks have been playing this game for ages and none of them have turned into axe-murderers. in fact they seem remarkably well-adjusted. he has weakened to the point where he is planning to buy the game and use it for what he describes as 'behaviour modification'. my guess is that he saw how much fun it was and wants to play it too.

my boy started up yet again about how it was good for him to express his anger rather than bottling it up and how it might help develop his social skills if he could practice interacting with chainsaw-weilding monsters. herself dispatched him equally quickly with an instruction to go and research what graphics card his computer had. she went back to the moving house list.

almost immediately my boy returned, screaming. it seemed that his computer was in meltdown. herself went to have a look. a virus has wormed its way into my boy's computer and was in the process of attempting to ping adverts for viagra around the world.

"oh my god!" screeched my boy, "people will think i am selling viagra!" herself explained that no-one would think the ads came from him as they were the work of a spambot. but it became clear that the poor computer was overloading and grinding to a halt. herself spent a fruitless few hours trying to clean it up but the poor thing did not have enough memory to remember where it had put its pants never mind load up the virus-hoovering stuff. it later transpired that my boy had switched off the firewall in order to play online games.

so yesterday evening was somewhat stressy. my boy did not help matters by helping himself to a pot of pot noodles during the afternoon when no-one was looking. pot noodles (pronounced po noodlay by my boy and himself in an effort to make them sound like a gourmet dish) are chemicals and plastic in a little pot. you add hot water and then squirt some goo from a sachet on top. then you eat them. herself cannot bear to be in the same room as she says they smell hideous. the chemicals in pot noodles send my boy into the stratosphere. it was really not a sound move on his part to eat them on the very day when his computer was caput. he spent the evening rampaging around the house, alternating between tears and rage. there is a rather odd furry sheep (not alive i hasten to add) that plays the victim in my boy's murderous games. the sheep came in for a fair bit of grief yesterday evening.

the peeps were sitting in the kitchen rolling their eyes to the ceiling and trying to stay calm when my boy came into the kitchen at a slightly slower pace, looking rather sheepish. i put this down to excessive contact with the furry sheep. he explained that the bedroom lights had collapsed. herself went to see what he had done. it transpired that, in his fury with the unfortunate sheep, he had banged around so hard in the peeps' bedroom that the halogen lights (which are fixed on a wire that goes across the room) had fallen down.

luckily this weekend the extreme programmer is coming to visit. this was arranged before the virus made an appearance but is now even better timing. my boy has been e-mailing him about the latest catastrophe. i hope he can bring the computer back from the brink before my boy decides to demolish the house, which would be particularly tricky, given we have sold it to someone else...

and finally...

at last! dear readers i am finally free of stitches and staples and all things medical! i am only using this picture to remind you all of the trials of lurcherhood. i no longer have to wear these silly shirts, and more to the point i can go off the lead! i am so looking forward to running about on the beach with my lady friend and young rokit!

the final stitches were taken out last night by the vet. i think he was rather impressed by my diy plastic surgery. i wonder if there is a future career for me as a vet? i don't suppose i would have many cats among my following.

while we were at the vets my lady friend also had the once over. she still has poorly eyes and in spite of herself's efforts refuses to have the stuff put in them. and she rather disgraced herself yesterday. i have to say it makes a change to sit on the sidelines when someone else is in the doghouse. what happened was that herself and my boy were watching tv. himself had already gone off to bed as he finds any tv programme that doesn't have a bearded archeologist in a trench or a bunch of little men chasing a ball to be beneath him. herself was giving my lady friend's back a gentle scratch. my lady friend usually loves this and goes into a mesmo with her bottom lip hanging and her eyes half closed.

however, on this occasion herself must have touched a sore place. it is hard to tell where my lady friend is sore as a) she is very hairy and b) she has obviously been bashed around a fair bit by her previous owners and has many sore places. anyway, she whipped round before you could say bonio and sank her teeth into herself's hand. to say it bled profusely would be an understatement. my boy, always good in a crisis, fetched a wad of paper towel to stop the sofa copping it, and herself, looking rather pale and dizzy, sank to the floor in order, no doubt, to lessen the distance to fall if she passed out. my boy asked if he should call an ambulance but herself, having got rather more used to blood around the place than is healthy, said they should wait and see if it stopped. my boy tried to rouse himself from his slumbers but was singularly unsuccessful. himself just muttered that herself should get into bed too. luckily no-one takes any notice of himself when he is asleep as he talks nonsense. that much blood in the bed would not have been good.

eventually the hand stopped bleeding enough to be taped up with the ever-handy first aid kit. my boy made cuppa-teas with sugar and gave herself a cookie. he is such a lovely boy - this was the last cookie and left none for him but he didn't grumble. so calmness returned to the house and eventually herself and my boy crawled off to bed, although my boy almost immediately re-appeared with bertha the bear and his duvet and bedded down on the sofa.

so today herself had to have a tetanus jab and is on anti-biotics, given my lady friend's filthy teeth. the hand is rather puffy and very sore but at least herself can still type. without the internet she would without doubt lose the plot, and i am sure my public would have something to say if i were unable to keep the world up to date with events chez nous.

the vet is going to x-ray my lady friend's back and hips to check there are no injuries there. this will necessitate her being knocked out so while she is under they will do various other bits and bobs like trimming her clicketty-clacketty nails (thank heavens! a bit of sleep at last!) and her matted fur and also taking out her lady-bits. this latter procedure is to prevent her going out on the tiles when she is hormonal and coming back full of puppies. while puppies are undoubtedly very sweet, i somehow doubt they would add an air of much-needed calm to our household.

my lady friend is also going to have some sessions with a dog behaviourist. this is because the biting thing is not something that the peeps can sort out on their own, in spite of many years of living with dogs with shady pasts. my boy said that it was ironic that, after separating a good many dog fights and never sustaining a scratch, herself should end up getting bitten while stroking a dog. i'm not sure why anyone is surprised by this. that's just the way herself's cookie crumbles...

good news!

dear readers, at last i have some good news. in fact i have several bits of good news!

firstly, some people are going to buy our house. they have 3 dogs and are thrilled to bits with the place. they are due to get married a week after moving in so the place will be buzzing with activity. the dogs will be able to make sure that the garden gets regular sprinklings so i am happy. the peeps are happy because it means they can finally make a fresh start after what has been a rather unfortunate year. my boy is happy because herself has managed to arrange that he will have the same taxi driver to take him to school. the peeps will drive him part of the way and rendevouz outside a cafe on the dual carriageway.

secondly, i got to see young rokit today. the little chap was touchingly pleased to see me - it warms the cockles of my old heart. he was not allowed to give me a hug on the off-chance that he might catch his thumb in my staples and cause yet more trauma, but we had a bit of a chat. herself took us for a drive and picked up a bream to have for tea. it is valentines day so the peeps are going to have a special meal. this morning herself made himself a card with a picture of ferrets on it. not the most romantic thing in the world but its the thought that counts. himself more appropriately presented herself with a huge bunch of flowers which are proudly displayed on the table.

and finally, my efforts at do-it-yourself plastic surgery seem to have worked! we went to see the vet today and my shoulder has healed up so well that nearly all of my stitches and staples have been taken out! i got the collywobbles a bit at the sight of the vet and my legs went like jelly. herself distracted me from my anxiety by pulling an object out of her bag and exclaiming "blimey! i've still got this fish in my bag!" its probably just as well the bag does have the waterproof pocket in the middle...

you couldn't make it up

life continues to offer ample blog-fodder. yesterday the estate agent was to come round to show yet more people the house. he was due at 11am. you would think that, as the peeps get up at 7am, and indeed herself had been up pretty much all night coughing, it would not present too much a problem to get the place ship-shape by then. but as usual, distractions loomed and herself was rushing round at 10.30 mopping the floors. she dived into the shower (a saying, dear readers) and soon bubbles were flying around.

my boy ran in. "there's a man at the door!" he squealed.

"what does he look like?" asked herself. my boy went back to have a look. "he's quite tall and he's wearing a coat."

"does he look smart?" asked herself, in an effort to ascertain whether he might be the postman or a meter reader. "quite smart," confirmed my boy. "well, give him the key to the garden room and say 'my mum's in the shower - can you show the people round the garden room first?' to the man."

my boy duly ran off, only to return very quickly. "i can't!" he hissed. "well i'm stark naked and if i go to the door they will run away!" said herself. my boy pondered this for a moment and decided that the possibility of herself standing naked and dripping at the door was a worse prospect than having to speak to the man in the coat.

herself, having persuaded my boy to bring her clothes into the bathroom, got dressed. my lady friend and i were put on our leads and off we went. our first port of call was our friends on the corner's house. once ensconced on a garden chair herself set about bringing her appearance back from the brink.

"what are you doing?" asked my boy, clearly being unfamiliar with the concept of a hairbrush.

"tidying myself up a bit before we go walking round the block, said herself. out came the make-up.

"this is so embarrassing!" said my boy, "there are builders in that house next door. they will think we are mad, sitting here with 2 lurchers with you putting on make-up!" i have to say i agreed with him. in the picture above you can see me desperately looking the other way. i had forgotten my sunglasses and false beard in the rush. when i am wearing them at least i can be sure of a certain degree of anonymity, as you can see in the picture below.

once herself had been transformed from medusa to a middle aged lady we set off for a walk. my boy, having had to speak to the man in the coat, felt the need to let off steam by talking about his latest obsession. this is something that beefburger people do when they are stressed. as they meandered along the road my boy explained the merits of various types of deadly weapons and bullets. herself finds this sort of talk unsettling. she is off work with what we now know is called vicarious trauma, or precarious trauma as my boy calls it. you get it from dealing with too much nasty stuff.

after about 10 minutes of gun talk herself told my boy he had to change the subject. so he went on to hand grenades. when we got home the estate agent was just leaving. he did indeed have a coat. it seems these particular people were looking for a house to renovate. in the case of our house they are 10 years too late...

wet feet

here is a picture of young rokit. i am attaching this so you can be reminded of how good he is at looking as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. that is a saying. butter wouldn't be in his mouth long enough to melt - he has developed a fine technique for thieving called 'snatch and swallow'.

anyway, on monday herself and my lady friend went to collect young rokit. i am still indisposed with my shoulder so i have to rely on my lady friend's accounts of what goes on. this is somewhat hampered by her lack of vocabulary. having spent her life in a shed, with outings only at night to kill small furry animals, the modern world is something of a conundrum to her. but with careful forensic questioning i am usually able to piece together what has befallen her.

the plan on monday was that the peeps would take my lady friend and young rokit on the beach, then call in at himself's school to copy some files that herself needs for a thing she is working on for them, then go to a meeting with a lady who may have a bit of work for herself. herself was keen to appear relatively in control of life in order to make a good impression on the lady.

it appears that things went a little awry on the beach. a young pup who is an acquiantance of young rokit's appeared. young rokit decided to forget all that mr and mrs rokit have taught him about coming back when people call him. he ran into the distance with the pup. then he came back and looked as though he was seeing the error of his ways. but then he ran off the other way. my lady friend tried to reason with him but assertiveness is not one of her strong points. after about 10 minutes of this herself was very croaky from shouting. himself was in a towering rage. he was in danger of being late for work so herself said he should head off.

a further 10 minutes of shouting and bawling failed to make any impression on young rokit. herself tried to creep up on him. she was standing with her back to the sea and trying to sound as though she was a nice person, rather than someone who would like to strangle a wayward lurcher. in came a big wave. it soaked herself up to the knees. by now herself was a little upset. she was also freezing, which is not good when you have a chest infection. at this point rokit gave up the ghost and allowed himself to be put on the lead. i think he saw the murderous look in her eyes.

all this had made herself a little later than she planned for her meeting. she also now had one shoe that was much wetter than the other one and accordingly a totally different colour. herself debated whether to put the other foot in the sea to make them match, but thought better of this in case anyone saw her.

as it turned out the meeting went well anyway. the lady is a nice lady, even though i understand that she is not too wild about dogs. well, nobody's perfect. and of course she hasn't met me yet...

florence nightingale

dear readers, herself is poorly. she has a bad cough. himself, believing man-flu to be the worst that can befall one, and knowing that herself as a woman cannot possibly catch man-flu, is less than sympathetic. herself has been coughing all over the house. it is so bad that my lady friend and i have taken to hiding at the first sound of a cough in case her lungs turn themselves inside out, land on our heads and smother us.

yesterday she finally went to see the doc. the doc is a vet for people. the doc gave her anti-biotics. i would have given her some of mine if only she had asked. they have not yet kicked in so she spent the whole night unable to lie down without coughing.

in the middle of one particularly voluminous coughing fit herself staggered out of bed and out to the sofa where himself was snoring to himself. he was also snoring to most of the neighbourhood if the truth be told.

"lovey, i can't breathe properly!" she gasped. "get an air freshener!" mumbled himself.

"no really, i can't breathe properly. i don't want to keel over if there's no-one around!"

"well, stop coughing then," grunted himself. herself took a sip of water. "and don't drink water, it makes you cough." with that he turned over and resumed his snorathon.

you just can't get the staff...

in the doghouse

oh boy, have i excelled myself now! i am well and truly in the doghouse. up till now i have been able to extract a certain amount of sympathy for the misfortune that befell my shoulder. but yesterday i think i blew it.

it all started because herself was looking the other way. to be more precise, she was washing the walls. this is not a normal part of the cleaning routine but because the peeps are selling the house, herself has become the perfect little (well, not so little if the truth be told) housewife. this week the peeps dropped the price in an effort to find someone to buy the place. in anticipation of hoards of punters at the weekend a cleanathon was embarked upon.

it has to be said, the walls did need a bit of a wash. as well as the dodgy shoulder i also have a little problem with my tail. what happens is that when we are about to go for a walk my lady friend and i get a bit geed up. she bounces up and down on the spot with her front legs and rotates her tail like a propeller. i favour the running in circles while lashing my tail from side to side approach. which would be all fine and dandy but for the fact that the old tail, which has something of a mind of its own, regularly makes contact with hard surfaces.

in the past i have had to pay a number of visits to the evil wonderful vet to have the tail patched up. on one memorable occasion it had to be encased in its own little box to stop me bashing it while it healed up. this was after i had cut it and continued to wag it, spraying the place with arcs of blood which left it looking like a scene from a horror movie. our house is entered through a room with windows on 3 sides. the windows have pale cream cotton curtains. the walls are pale cream. you can imagine how herself loved washing 12 curtains and 3 walls!

anyway, the old tail has been up to its tricks again, no doubt jealous of the attention the shoulder was getting. herself took the view that the blood on the walls might put off the potential purchasers. so there she is on her knees scrubbing away at the walls, while i lay in my bed surveying the scene. without thinking i gave the old shoulder a bit of a scratch with my foot. bad move. out pinged 3 or 4 stitches and the bottom half of the wound gaped open again. herself went pale. whether this was the result of having a squeamish disposition or the thought of the bill i don't know.

so yet another trip to the vet, with herself muttering at me the whole way in the car about putting my size 9s in it yet again. the only good thing about the whole escapade was that i was able to have a quick word with the vet without herself noticing, the result being that he told herself he wouldn't charge on this occasion for patching me up. herself looked noticably relieved.

i'm not altogether sure how i'll fulfill my promise of bunging him a haunch of venison with this gammy shoulder...