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Friday, 11th September, 2009
Seems to me the lives of Humans revolve around completely pointless tasks. And then they repeat them. The Head Human writes one book, and straight away starts another. Ever since I can remember.
I hear the Humans laughing at me – but what about their habits? Oh, don’t think I don’t notice – always commenting on me, inspecting me, analyzing me, using me as an excuse for their shortcomings. Ironic, isn’t it. According to them it is me who breaks wind after their dinner, me who provides an excuse for their solitary, unadventurous lives. ‘Oh Figaro is so attached,’ responds the Head Human when asked away on a holiday, ‘I don’t really like to leave him.’ Haven’t they heard of the common defence mechanism of Projection? Doesn’t the Head Human read ANY of the hundreds of books that line the shelves, hide under the covers, litter the bathroom sink, bedroom floor, all available flat surfaces?
Thursday, 10th September, 2009
There was another school visit this morning, so only the Young Male Human was at home. I didn’t have much hope of Goforawalk, but I sidled up to him and wagged my tail and licked his hand to remind him. ‘Oh piss off!’ he said, ‘I’ve just had a shower!’
He didn’t used to worry about my dribble. He used to pull my lips up and down to get that sucky sound and throw balls and pat me just how I like – quick and careless, without a lot of emotion. He used to smell good too, but now he sprays on a bit of cleaning fluid himself, and he’s taller than the Head Human, which is confusing for a dog with Obedience issues, if only they knew.
Wednesday, 9th September, 2009
My Head Human went out early this morning. There wasn’t even time for Goforawalk. And She sprayed that foul cleaning-fluid smell on herself. It wafted in great clouds behind her, so I had to leave the living room and spend the morning outside.
Tuesday, 8th September, 2009
I’m an old dog. Escape. Haven’t I tried? Overthefence when I was a young lad and there was that shouting, stirring smell so salivatingly near.
‘Oh, thank you, I’m so glad you liked it,’ my Head Human said to the phone, her foot jiggling for joy like my bottom when I’m about to Goforawalk. I hardly remember a time when she wasn’t writing Escape.
‘Yeah, it took me 8 years,’ she crowed to the phone, laughing.
Monday, 7th September, 2009
My favourite word is Ironic. Well, that’s ironic, I think, when Humans laugh at me licking my private parts. I know they would, if they could. I like Ironic but maybe I like Italianmeatballsfrombruce better. Come to think of it, I like the word Brucethebutcher best, or maybe Goforawalk and Overthefence. Really, I like all the simple things of this world. I like food and most smells and winter and careless patting (not the tense, overly verbal cuddles that mean I have to stay still as a stuffed toy until the hugger is emotionally fulfilled).
I’m a dog. Not a Human. But no one gets that around here.
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