Me, dogs and big strong men

I’ve been helping a company with its marketing activity recently, involving quite a bit of content writing, which has kind of diluted my creative juices a bit for my pp stuff. But I thought I should get back in the ole saddle before I forget what it’s like to write completely without a direction/brief. Anyway my subject this evening is back to an old shaggy dog theme. In fact it’s about shaggy dogs. Well actually it’s about little dogs. And men. Big old macho men. Or so I thought.

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Animal rescue

So regular readers will know I’m not a big animal fan. Actually that’s nowhere near correct. I’m just someone who doesn’t like the concept of pets and having animals in the home. I love animals in their natural habitat and can live with animals being farmed for our consumption provided it is done respectfully. I don’t like zoos. But I appreciate the conservation work.  I confess, I am a bit of a protectionist when it comes to animal care and I abhor the harm that comes to some poor creatures especially deliberately. But sometimes, indeed often,  animals become harmed by their environment. And there are clusters of people who are there to care for animals who became hurt. I couldn’t do it personally but I applaud them.

Not my best friend

 

Well if the camp Strictly posting caused a bit of a fuss, I suspect this one is going to land me in deep doo doo too….

Nelly and the elephant

Remember this image because it’s absolutely perfect for this piece. It’s about my nan, affectionately known as Nelly, who was indisputably the kindest, warmest, most decent person I’ve ever known and I loved her utterly. She’s no longer with us of course – she died just before Carol and I got married almost 40 years ago. But I think of her often and this evening I had a fond smile at her memory sparked by a clip from tonight’s TV.

hoopoe – d’you know?

Picture the scene: old comb-over Robert Robinson, chairing the programme Call My Bluff, invites dear old dickey-bowed Frank Muir to identify the correct definition of the word ‘Hoopoe’. Is it, Frank, an old English word describing a rather uncomfortable disease afflicting the skin between the toes, or a word for an obscure tribe of native Americans found in the Dakotas who were sworn enemies of the Pawnee, or a type of hooch brewed by backwoodsmen in the tropical forests of N Australia which is so powerful it can cause teeth to drop out and for the Aussie male to be rendered incapable of any cultural appreciation whatsoever. Yes Frank, it is popular throughout Australia.

boars!

Well I’d like to tell you that this is shot taken with my camera but it’s not. But we are pretty damn sure that one or more of these rascals has been visiting us recently at night. We had our neighbour P and her house guests James and Mary Lou over for drinks the other night and when ML went outside for a smoke she was convinced that she saw a large shape run off into the nearby bushes. The other night we were returning home from dinner out. I went round the back to open the door. We have no lights outside and it was pitch black – I was using the lit screen from my mobile phone to find the lock for the key – when I heard the sound of a largish animal running past and off into the nearby undergrowth….I nearly cacked my pants.

great grass, man

Well another great day here and I’ve spent most of the day in the garden. The back’s hurting now but I’m showered, feeling clean and revived and ready for tonight’s match which is being shown live here. Can’t wait to be honest. But that’s for later. Earlier today the Scruff monster was at the front door again. But this morning neighbour P and her son A came over for coffee. P’s a big dog lover and was being very affectionate towards the urchin (which is what he ‘s craving). When P and A left I wasn’t surprised to see Scruff march off with them. Maybe his allegiance had shifted. 5 minutes later I could hear P’s own dog – a large Afghan –  barking away. Either the fellahs were having great fun or  Scruff was now in pieces. Either way I was thinking my period of guardianship may be over….

scruffy and gabby

Well I’ve been told by a couple of women friends that my postings are turning increasingly gentle (they mean girlie) as my distance from mainstream Premiership football lengthens. I thought the Prescott posting was pointedly irreverent, bordering on gleefully malicious but I can’t deny the dawg’s having an effect. I’m turning all LolCats. God, damn it.