Finger licking goooood

I've just had to curtail Rocky's blast on the field because he PISSED ME OFF!  We'd been having a lovely time, hiding from each other in the undergrowth, chasing after crows, sniffing (him, not me).  After covering the perimeter of the playing field just the once, I took him back over to the wooded area that leads to the canal to have another sniff and a game of sniff and seek in the undergrowth.  Ready to start my second circuit, I set off walking away from him and, as the distance between us increased, I realised that he was paying even less attention to me than usual - he was concentrating very closely on something, picking it up, throwing it about, catching it again, chewing it.  Had he finally, at long last, caught a mouse?  Had he done what he was bred for?

I started towards him to see what he was up to, but he was having none of it and decided to play the "act like cheeky robin" game, whereby I'd get within a couple of metres of him, he'd pick up whatever it was that he was tormenting, then bounce off.

Then he spotted the dog on the other side of the field.  I've given up trying to run after him, especially while wearing wellies, and I just hope that the object of his attention (and its owner) is friendly enough not to chew his face off. He never comes when called, ever.  He's a total shit and I could kill him.  Anyway, trudging through the mud, I finally got near him to find that he was still chomping away on whatever it was that'd he'd picked up on the other side of the field.  He made the mistake of a dropping some of it.

What could have been so fascinating?  What could've been so very good that he played with it for finve minutes and carried it from side of the field to the other?  Was it a small furry animal?  No, it was a bit of chicken carcass.  No meat or anything, just the bone.  I pulled the remainder of it from his mouth and, my fingers covered in dog spit, I dragged him home.  Finger licking good.

He came so close to being left there, the little fucker.  He's so disobedient, annoying, embarrassing.  I have a friend coming over on Sunday and we're supposed to be taking him on a nice walk.  Nice doesn't come into it, it's always such a fucking toil.

All I ever wanted was a dog that I could take on a nice walk, that'd bring things that I threw for it, that wouldn't hassle other animals, and that would come back to me when called.

And I get him.

He's funny as fuck when he runs at full pelt though.

Le Weekend

Yay, it's the weekend.  At last!  I'm going to be creative in the kitchen tomorrow (after tidying up in there), make a lasagne for me and a special one for the freezer... just in case unexpected visitors drop by.

As I said, I have a friend coming over on Sunday and she'll be staying over too.  A sleep over, at my age!

And I think I'm taking Monday off because I can't be fucked going in to work

But the weekend starts properly at 8pm this evening when Taz Radio goes live.  An evening of all my favourite music.  Fabulous!




Peanuts

I see that the end of peanut allergies might be in sight.  A small trial in 4 children showed that they could be desensitised to peanut allergens by gradual exposure to increasing amounts of peanut flower.  After suffering severe allergies to peanuts all their lives, the children can now eat up to ten peanuts.

But where's the fun in that?  The good thing about having friends with peanut allergies is the tricks you can play on them.

"I've cooked you a meal."

"Ooh, thanks, I'm STARVING; been saving myself for this all day!"

"Great, I bought some really special ingredients.  Now... what did it say about being packaged in a nut-free environment?  It either was, or wasn't, but I can't remember which.  Have you got your epi-pen handy?"

Fag patchwork

I'm running out of places to stick my fag patches to.  Every bit of skin that has previously had one attached to it is now very red, quite sore and rather itchy.  The things are a nightmare.  I've taken to cutting them up so they'll fit into what remains of my unaffected skin.  I'll be moving on to my shins next.

Still, I've not had a cigarette in about ten days and not really thought of having one.  More than anything, it's just breaking the habit, but wearing a patch kind of adds a psychological boost to my efforts.  "It's called a PLACEEEEEEEEEEBO".