Sunday, September 07, 2014

The Chronicles of Rug (and Dexter) Pts 2 &3

Being the intimate confessional diaries of twa broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland's Morton Through Midnight...
Life. life is good. life is great, Life is fantastic. Brilliant wonderful and terrific. where’s the ball? the black ball, the black solid rubber ball? Under the couch? brilliant, let me just snuffle about a bit down there. I can smell…I can smell something good down here. What is it? My nasal passages aren’t as developed as that suppurating old bitch they call Rug, but I can smell something…now wait a minute. I know what this is. But the last time it was different, the last time it was kind of…cold and hard. Basically the same though. This is…furrier. Kind of white stuff around it, but there’s…I know! Last time they said it was called a Brussel sprout! Never had it before but it was absolutely delicious! Almost as good as those potato stalks  I dug up from the garden. They were totally brilliant and delicious. And gave me this fuzzy feeling, as if I was going to fall over. And falling over is brilliant. Brilliantly brilliant. Wow, I heard those humans talking about red balls, green Brussel sprouts, cabbages, purple, blue, whatever. Colours, they say, colours but I only see in black and white. And that’s brilliant! Morality, choices, one thing or the rather. Politics! Numbers, Binary choices!
Tell you what’s even better than Brussel sprouts, and I have to admit that one under the sofa was a wee bit squelchy. Carrots. I’ve got this black rubber things, they push a carrot inside it and I have to get the carrot out. How stunning is that. Brilliant brilliant brilliant brilliant brilliant! Now I’ve go to find that Swiss dog, the big Swiss, the St Bernard Dog, Rug, snooty, thinks I’m stupid. Thinks I just want to have sex with her and that I’m stupid because I had my testicles cut off by Victoria the Vet. But she’s wrong. They are invisible testicles. How good  is that? That’s brilliant!

Bonsoir, messieurs et mesdames It is, I Rug, as my cruel and monosyllabic owners have named me. Last week you heard from that miserable little parasite Dexter, who now appears to have established himself as a permanent fixture in the household. Tiens. And, also, pah! I am desolated. 

However, I have taken some comfort and cheer from the hyperactive mongrel’s embarrassment over one area in which my superiority remains unchallenged. And that is weatherproofing. In point of fact, I do not have to bear the embarrassment of wearing a human-made coat, being in full possession of - if I may say so - a magnificent pelt, proof against all forms of dampness, rain, snow and ice. Although I draw the line at seawater. My cousins in the Newfoundland family love to swim, and indeed, sport disgustingly webbed feet. But they were bred to rescue hapless mariners and retrieve fishing nets, whereas me and mine were always called to higher things, such as the saving of life, and causing pedestrians to fall over through sheer affectionate leaning.

I do not feel the cold, Dexter, on the other paw, with barely any covering on his back and none on his disgustingly pink belly, shivers uncontrollably given even the slightest precipitation or drizzle. this led to the ultimate embarrassment, I am said to say, this morning when he disgraced himself on the hall carpet after refusing to brave the mild breeze and light rain in the garden. I took great pleasure in begging to be allowed out and performed more than adequately, if I may say so, in a discreet, previously harvested  part of the vegetable patch. Dexter was banished to his crate, which gave me both great emotional pleasure and my ears a rest from his continual attempts to encourage play through his confounded nipping.

Really, what did they expect from a random mongrel? Breeding is so important. Meanwhile, I could not hide my amusement at the sight of the mutt being clad in a hastily adapted, cut and sewn child’s neoprene wetsuit. Alas, this provoked an outpouring of dribble  from moi which somehow attached itself to a visiting Church of Scotland minister’s best Armani jeans, and I was unfairly banished to the washhouse. Life is so unjust. Sacre Bleu. Salut maintenant.


Anonymous said...

I am enjoying the Blog about Rug and dexter. It reminds me of the Quebec series by "Henri le Chat..

Please continue . I live in a house with one dog and three cats. I am sure there are discussions when I am not present . There is some devious plan afoot.

Maureen mennie

June Huston said...

That was so interesting ! Please, keep posting! You have great writing style , I enjoy reading your posts! Say hi to Dexter!