I haven’t written here for a while. M and K were away for a month in November and a girl called Mel stayed with me. While they were away, I anxiously chewed up my foam bed, awaiting their return. My sleeping area was in such a state of disarray that K made me a new bed which I adore. It smells much better than the last one and matches my collar.
She made it from old sheets from the second hand store. Here I am, posing on my new bed.
Monday morning, 7am.
I spent an hour or so watching some people exercise. It was riveting.
One of my favourite pastimes. This is me on my way to the beach for a walk. I love the wind in my face and the scents in my nostrils.
The garden is my domain. My kingdom. When I’m not sitting high on the stairs looking out over it, I am roaming its perimeter, sniffing, scouting and exploring. I especially tend to do this at night when the scrub turkeys are out causing trouble.
My favourite spot in the garden is my corner. Its been dubbed Arthur’s Corner as a result of my tendency to run and hide there when being chased around the yard. It is also the spot where I take odds and ends like tennis balls, dirty clothes or stray hats.
This weekend Arthur’s Corner was officially deemed so.
Here I am posing for the photo in my corner.
Give me the towel I will dry myself!
Like most dogs I find one of the small pleasures in life is when the juicy-legged postman whizzes around the street astride his unmistakable spluttering chariot and I sit and howl a welcome at the gate as he ”slips his epistle through my snail encrusted slot” ( thank you Barry Humphries). Last week this noble service man kindly delivered a DVD to my family….a simalar package was delivered to “Tom the Mongrel” next door and the sexy little Pekinese at No.3. Later that evening I was lucky enough to secure a corner of the lounge enabling me to view this unrequested gift. It was an interesting story about a bloke called God (which I couldn’t help but notice is dog backwards) and how this busy bloke made us all (and how we actually aren’t descended from wolves and dingoes as I was led to believe in the pound). Apparently he made us all in his image, so I am assuming he is an elongated hairy chap with unwieldy ears, but here is the thing…this God also created all the creatures on earth, which by reckoning includes fleas! Why the hell would God create fleas??These blood sucking parasites bring nothing to the world but itchy misery followed by strange smelling solutions that make your fur taste like a chemistry set! At what stage did this omnipotent being decide it would be a great idea to create millions upon millions of microscopic bugs that like to pierce your skin and drink your blood! As you can perhaps tell it is an issue that is close to my heart this week as I have been beset upon by these loathsome creatures.I have endured days of endless scratching biting and writhing from flea induced torture capped with off with a shameful and toxic ‘flea treatment bath’. Whhhyyy?!!! Do you think if God admitted it was a mistake to have invented such beasties and obliterated them from the face of the earth anything at all would suffer? Is there some endangered aardvark in the outer reaches of the Congo that relies soley on these miniature vampires for its very existence? Surely we could cross them off the list of existence or replace them with some sweet smelling, happy bug that brings joy and conviviality where ever they travelled? I guess until that magical day comes we must all suffer the red welts of creationism! Obviously my master was having similar thoughts about fleas as he watched this DVD because he threatened to push it through the snail encrusted slot of whoever sent it to him.
P.S my favourite k9 gag this week: “Did you hear about the dyslexic philosopher who fell asleep at night wondering if there really was a Dog?!”
So I’m getting my head around blogging. Gives me something to do all day while my parents are at work.
Today we all went for an early morning walk around the back streets. Its not my favourite route to walk, but they let me stay off the leash all the way which was enjoyable. What wasn’t so cool was the fact that as we walked, a small boy-child riding tandem with his Mummy on a bike shouted at the top of his voice “That’s not a dog, that’s a puppy,” for all the world to hear. I am a dog, by jove. I’m sick of feeling emmasculated simply because I am shorter than an average terrier, and I’ve been told more than once that I am a little ‘odd looking’. But boy, have I seen some things.
After ‘doing time’ in a few ‘institutions’ (2 x pounds, 1 x shelter), I’ve had more experiences than that kid could count. I am three years old. If you convert that to dog years, I could be that kid’s father.
And although I love walking, it exposes me to some really pea brained pooches and people. The number I’ve times I’ve been mistaken for a ‘she’ when we’ve been walking is too many to fathom.
I partly blame this on the fact that I am constantly garbed in the very non-gender specific colour of red. Red collar, red lead, red water bowl. Even a red-esque blog. What do you think of it so far?
I’m Arthur Shanbury. I live in a house in Darwin with two people. My life is pretty good since I’ve moved in to this house. Most of my time is spent sleeping, sunbaking on the lawn, sitting on the stairs looking over my little kingdom or walking. We walk on the block near our house and sometimes at the beach.
I dislike the spa and choose not to hang out with my parents when they frequent it. They’re always calling me when they’re in the spa, beckoning me to come over so they can pat me, but I don’t like it so mostly ignore them.
I like eating and have tried many different varieties of food including sardines, calamari and fish. But most nights I have sausage. I love sausage.
