Lauren is tugging at our hearts this week on Throwback Thursday Memory BlogHop which she and Maggie at, from the cave walls as we remember those best friends of our lives – our pets. Click on the link to read the rules and join in the fun.
When I was a little girl I was frightened of dogs. My mum and Dad decided to get me a dog for Christmas. The dog arrived on Christmas Eve after I had gone to bed. Somehow the whole family managed to keep it a secret from me.
As I said the dog arrived at Christmas and Dad being Dad and an Irish Catholic
Steve was a beautiful dog, red fox in colour with a white chest and a couple of socks. He was a Hienz fifty seven, a mixed breed, a mogrel a mutt. The whole family fell head over heels in love with him.
I was the youngest child of a big family ten years between myself and the next girl, eight years between me and the next boy and fourteen years between me and our eldest sister. Steve crossed all the barriers and age differences between us all. Steve was everyone’s best friend, except maybe my next brother who really did not get on with him. Why? well that was a total mystery to us all. Later when my brother had joined the army , Steve always barked at him whenever he came home on leave. It was so strange because Steve was not like that with anyone else.
Steve soon became my best friend, he was such a sweet natured dog. He let me dress him up as a baby and let me push him around in the old pushchair, or used my mum’s net curtains to regale him as a bride. He really was a cutie.
During the week we’d all take Steve for a walk but on a Sunday either a few of us or just me would be accompanied by Dad and we’d go for a long walk around the park. It was a huge park with a fishing lake , a boating lake, a play area, football pitches, tennis courts and much more. There was even a stately home and museum. The house and park originally belonged to the Rothschilds.
Steve loved his walks, he loved his food he would eat anything and everything. My dad always had to get up at 5am to go to work, Steve’s bed was in the kitchen, so he always shared dad’s porridge, infact Steve shared every meal everyone ever ate in that house.
Being a big family in a house splitting at the seams, full of many waifs and strays we always had lots of people round for Christmas and New Year. I don’t know how but there was always plenty of food and drink. One particular year I was given the job of taking people their drinks, my dad was incharge of making the drinks I was just the waitress. As the evening went on Dad noticed we were getting through a lot of drink. An investigation was started the outcome to which was: people were having a sip of their drinks then putting them down and Steve was finishing them off. …. So not only was Steve getting drunk people were drinking out of doggy glasses. . Poor Steve he was rather unwell for quite a few days. Another funny thing I remember is that my Dad , being a union man always called Steve Brother….this always made us all laugh!
I was very bullied at school and if it had not of been for Steve I would of been a very sad and lonely child. Until I met hubby. Steve had lots of adventures, he was an escapologist. He lived a long and happy life loved by us all. He was still alive when my eldest was born. Infact my two older sons still remember him.
We only had the pet when I was a child. Steve has never left my mind or my heart. Since I been married we’ve had five cats, two gerbils and two dogs…. The latest is our beautiful Ruby.
He is such a bully , that chuck Thinks he’s the boss, keeps pushing us. Why does he always make such fuss. He’s afraid of the two leg’s crook. Disobedience he’ll not brook. The shepherd’s rules he’ll never buck. Then he pushes us and his luck We pretend to do his bidding Keeping our true feelings hidden. Then shepherds dog gives us less truck.
You may, if you wish, make some kind of link between the Haiku Challenge prompt of (FLEAS and Sneeze) my Haiku is here. and this Décima Challenge of NOISE in the B rhyme line. This means you could write a haiku post using the prompt words. Then do a Décima post using this week’s prompt uniting the two with a common message.
The 2 CHALLENGES are SEPARATE but CAN BE combined if YOU CHOOSE to do so.
Like a rumble in the jungle A whirring, bumbling joyful noise. Fleas busy showing off their poise. A heaving seaving big bundle. Singing up a joyful roundel. Ruby’s distracted by her nose. She hears the rumble as it grows. Her nose is busy a twitching Those fleas are busy a scritchin. I hear a sneeze and out they blows.
It’s Thursday and time for Sue Vincent’s #writepho, which I have to say, I am delighted to see back again this week.
It has been suggested that Sue use the ‘Mister Linky’ widget rather than having to create a full round-up list every week… which is a good thing as her treatments and hospital appointments tend to be on Thursdays…
Sue asks as an experiment, would we mind clicking the green Mr Linky logo on her page, by entering our name and link to our post then clicking the box to accept the privacy policy, then press enter… we can save her a lot of work.
When you click, it should look like this screenshot, but empty and ready for you to fill in:
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For visually challenged writers, theimage shows the black silhouette of a crow perched atop a blackened and dead-looking tree. In the background the sky is blue and the trees are decked in the full green leaf of summer…
This week’s prompt ~ Appointed.
“Hey Crow what are you doing up there?” asked the small dog with the wagging tail. The crow, though , startled did not move at once. Taking a deep breath he pretended to look off into the distance.
“What are you doing up there, and why is that tree all black and dead like winter looking”. ….. “Go away hissed the crow” trying to retain a semblance of nonshalance. But the small dog would not go away, and the small dog would not be quiet, she was an inquisitive dog.
Crow looked to the horizon taking in the blue sky and fluffy clouds and sighed… All this is wrong he thought, the tree was the only thing that was right…..black and dead. The rest of the surroundings were to bright and that awful word …pretty.
The small dog kept asking questions in a loud bark! Crow just ignored her and wondered why she would not go. The worrying thing was he was on a completely different plane of existence to this small dog and they should not see eachother at all.
Suddenly a woman arrived over the brow of the hill, “Hey Girly” she called “what are you barking about.” After catching her breath she continued. “Ah! I see it’s a crow, hello Mr Crow how are you today”
“Bloody confused ” muttered the crow. The woman laughed, “A confused corvid sitting in a dead tree, well done Girly you’ve found it” “Found what?” asked the small dog.
The woman smiled and hugged the small dog. “The title of my next book, The well appointed crow” she smiled.
The crow clicked his beak and said “but you can’t see me I am not in your time”
Even better said the woman “The well appointed crow who wasn’t there!” She laughed again and the small dog barked. The crow said no more.
Scroggy? Redbone Coonhound init! Fred sez it’s a real steal – erh, catch, for such a rare and contenshosh breed. And we’re gonna make a sheep dog outta it soon enough. The genuine articools.
Watcha mean Coonhound’s a hunting doggy? Hunting, Sheeping, all the same init! And no one knows more about doggies than me and Freddy. We’ll take yer domestic dog, yer street dog, yer – Nah, not take. Didn’t mean to imply…more like appropriate, erh…and, erh, Fred says “Terry go round up some mammals with sheepdog potenshals”. Yu’d be amazed how many mutts ‘round abouts West Pid have them potenshals…um…
Vexed, I’m very vexed ThreeLegs considers his state of mind, that place where all thoughts of noshing, eightleggers and sniffing live in a perpetual mush between the earflaps. And thinking about noshing, Threelegs’ belly reminds him he’s missing out on his brekkers at Freddy’s Farm. Bacon, well done scraps of bacon, anyways. Toast, the crusts. Sausage – burnt to perfection – and a touch of healthy kicking or a sudden wack out of nowhere from Freddy with his big stick. He is panting fast, tongue lolling. Thinking of home, starting to miss it all.
Ahh wails Threelegs, feeling lonesome I’m undeserving of such heinous exile from me pater famillias?
The orange sniff of nosh makes his snout holes flick and bubble with hunger.
Just down the street is Greggs. He can sniff the special of the day, two sausage, scrambled eggs and baked beans. Just the ticket!
But he’s reluctant to leave the PD compound.
Westley Piddle is a small town but ThreeLegs has hardly ever been here, ‘cept for whisking doggies, so is rightfully wary of the other fourlegs he can sniff all out and abouts. More warily, who can he call his bowls mates, his real snifz-friends nows that he’s all alones?
Ronovan says : You may, if you wish, make some kind of link between the Haiku Challenge prompt of (CURL and Paw). and this Décima Challenge of KNOCK in the A rhyme line. This means you could write a haiku post using the prompt words. Then do a Décima post using this week’s prompt uniting the two with a common message.
The 2 CHALLENGES are SEPARATE but CANBEcombined if YOU CHOOSE to do so.
Gently she gives my elbow a knock. Her eyes full of love “I need you” I smile back needing her too. She is my foundation and rock. Tells the time better than a clock. When I’m well she’s out running free When I’m not well she clings to me Somehow she knows just what to do. She’ll always guide me good and true. Ruby is my lifesaving prop.
“Ican’tsee,Ican’tsee” scritches Squeezy. Two muttwits, all earflaps and furry bodies, obscuring the High Street, handlebars, all else “Ican’tcontrol–“
Paddles is in a state of shock snifz yu–
Don’t move! barks Bananas
..Kama, Karma, Karmaaa…
Wot yu doing? Squeezy’s gotta squeeze the handlebars Paddles can’t eyeball anything neither, the little Pug being all wrapped ‘round his large snout.
“arhhhh!” Squeezy scritches, trying to move her handpaw from the control but stuck under the weight of both fourlegs.
Don’t move Bananas yaps into Paddle’s thick earflap until…
The mowta whizzes down the High Street, completely out of control, flashing past Tuffy and GitOrrf! in a blur of sniffy fourlegs, whinny skinny roundlegs and Kama, Karmaaa…
Woaa, is that Paddles hanging off the front? wonders GitOrrf!
Nah, mate Tuffy corrects, bit of a sausage hanging from chops just a cool Bananas, init!
At a speed never intended for the mowta, all control is lost, thanks to thems pink and yellow fluffy lumps preventing Squeezy from doing wot she needs to do with handpaws on handlebars. The entrance to Herdwick pooping park rushing up to meet thems.
Jump! yelps Bananas.
Wot?
Jump, yer fluffy muttwit and both fourlegs bail out, leaving Squeezy with a perfect view of the pooping park gates sweeping by either side. Loss of weight – coz Paddles is a right heavy four – causes the mowta to yaw this way and that, throwing the accordion high into the air. It crashes down in a squeezy, wheezy whine onto the grass, right beside Nutz.
Erh, snifz yu he barks at the wheezing thing.
Outside Costa, wotz actually nicely placed inside Herdwick pooping park, Squeezy almost manages to get the mowta under control before it gently crunches into a table and umbrella. The umbrella tips over and drapes Squeezy in bold Costa logos.
..if your colours were lyk my dreams…red, go–
Boy George cuts out. Squeezy struggles from under Costa logos and emerges into daylight.
“sorry,MissusLavinka” Arjom scritches, wobbling up to help her off the mowta.
“sorry,MissusLavinka” Oskar scritches, the legless, furless dumb scratch held in both handpaws.
Snifz yu barks Nutz at the accordion
Flaplegs, init adds Boltz, unfazed by an accordion flying into the park and landing on the grass right before his paws.
Yeah, yor right Nutz gives it one final snifz and I think it’s a gonna,d’yu know wot I’m sayin‘, bruv?
▪
Usual same old, same old.
Lavinka gets Paddles ready for his guest appearance to the paying masses in the big city. She combs his fur over and over until static makes it stand on end in a blob of electric fuzz. She ties a Union Jack bandana ‘round his big head and completes the look with the gold-tinted aviators.
‘cept that, instead of the same old neon pink fuzz, Paddles is now cream coloured. Natural Chow Chow cream coloured.
“thereweare,mypatriotic,puffy-liondoggy” she takes his big furry snout between both handpaws and plonks a kiss on the tip of his black snout, all TLC.
Trouble is, Paddles don’t appreciate all the fuss. Coz all night long, Squeezy’s been washing all that pink out of him in the bath. He snifz of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.
He wants to snifz his brekkers – but can’t.
Brekkers ain’t brekkers if yu don’t snifz it proper
That’s not gonna happen for a few days yet, not til his natural oils restore him to the handsome Chow Chow lyk wot he normally is.
And off they whine, on the mowta, towards West Pid. town center.
Dessert loving in your eyes all the waaay
They reach the corner of the Vape Shop at the top of the High Street.
“sitstillandbehave,thistime” Squeezy slowly whines the mowta down the pavement.
Me, behave. Me?
“fourmilesperhour” Squeezy scritches and don’t dare go one MPH faster.
Two streetlegs regulars watch thems trundle past.
Sharp as a pin, wot yuz are barks Tuffy to Paddles as he crawls by.
How can a fluffy four be sharp as a pin, One Ear? quizzes GitOrrf! between chomps of Greggs best brekkers bacon butty.
Tuffy, also known by the intimates as One Ear, sighs at his streetlegs mate don’t yu know nothink?
Sure, I know nothink GitOrrf! replies, a bit affronted by such snouty behaviour before a proper brekkers knows everything there is to know about nothink, init? not wanting to appear without intellectuals in front of Tuffy nothink I don’t knows about nothink!
The two streetlegs eyeballs the mowta whine down the High Street and slowly turn into Short Cut.
Let’s go ask Paddles sez Tuffy and see if he knows anything about nothink and off they trot. GitOrrf! carrying a sausage roll wot Paddles was promised – whenever.
▪
Bananas ain’t getting any peanut butter today – or any other day, judging by all the scritching going on. She takes shelter under the kitchen table.
“could’vehurtsomeone,withthatstunt” packmom scritches at her hindlegs pups, slamming brekkers on the table.
“don’twannawalkthedog” scritches Liisa, stomping her footpaw right beside the Pug’s earflap
Nah, corss yu do
“don’tevenlikedogs” scritches Liisa, stamping her footpaw again.
Yah, corss yu do
“that’stherules,orthedoggoes”
Lol!
▪
Outside, on Drakefield Road as it happens, Liisa wobbles along with her brothers and it takes no more than one short squirtz before [rule # one] Bananas is off the lead.
Oi, cool Bananas!
Snifz yu, Giblets
And [rule # two] Bananasis near other animals – wot that saucy muttwit Giblets is, anyways.
Squeezy squiiiz, squeezy, squiiiz the accordion stretches this way and that. Paddles sits on his tartan blanket, wearing his Union Jack bib and gold-tinted specs.
To me – not at me! he barks at pedestrians throwing little metal bits – wotz being thrown more than normal.
Snifz yu, Paddles yaps Bananas, standing in front of him, her doughnut-curled tail wagging cheerily.
Yeah, right he grunts back, refusing to eyeball her.
Yor not pink, anymore Bananas snifz at him yor normal, nows
Squeezy squiiiz, squeezy, squiiiz
Yeah, thanks for that Bananas – or should I bark ‘cool’ Bananas – wot fourlegs are calling yuz for saving the mowta, wot don’t need saving
Sure thing, anytime
Right! And thanks for getting rid of the pink furs, wot don’t need unpinking
Corss, at yor service
Yeah, and biggest thanks is reserved for ‘thems’ Paddles stands up and sticks his big, natural-coloured fluffy butt into Bananas flat snout THEMS! giving it the aggressive wot don’t need glittering!
From beneath his natural cream coloured coat emerge a small yet solid pair of furry plum bobs – all lovingly spray-painted in red, white and blue glitter.
Yeah thems. Thanks a bundle Paddles barks cheerlessly. Another metal bit is thrown at him, bouncing off his butt and landing on the tartan blanket.
“bringinginthemoneeey” Squeezy sing-song scritches, squeezing her accordion.
