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scratchy's garden

There are three entities in the known universe which stand apart from all others for voracity.

The best-known are black holes, non-sentient beings which just love eating any chunks of the universe which come within reach.

The second of the super-hungry beings in the universe is His Imperial Highness, Lord Zyz Spryxlinkgrot, of the Ffipll race, the former inhabitants of the planet Aggth. I say former because the Ffipll people had to leave the planet of Aggth, which they had happily and uneventfully inhabited for millions of years, because Lord Zyz ate it.

The third member of this elite group of consumers is Scratchy the Greyhound. His elevation to this highest-category of gannetry was formalised over the weekend after Scratchy presented a supreme and unique demonstration of food desperation.

What happened was that my wife decided to clean the toaster, removing six months' worth of crumbs from its nether regions. There are many things you can do with a collection of bread crumbs - my wife decided to throw this lot into the garden.

In a flash, Scratchy followed.

It is not clear how a greyhound who has never, to my knowledge, been fed bread crumbs understood that what went into the garden was edible, but then who am I to question the instincts of one of the universe's most eminent gourmands?

Of course, Scratchy is not allowed in the garden and my wife, who is an excellent and energetic gardener, barked loudly and decisively and Scratchy jumped out of the garden as quickly as he had jumped in.

I hear murmurs of doubt at this point. How is it, some of the less generous amongst you might ask, that such a renowned and voracious eater of anything and everything can be so easily shooed away from food? Well it's simple really: Scratchy is a sweet, obedient and loving soul who understands that Little Boss doesn't have eyes in the back of her head.

So as soon as my wife turned to walk back into the house, Scratchy jumped back into the garden.

Shoo! Turn. Jump. Shoo! Turn ... etcetera.

He didn't, in the end, do much damage to the garden. But if you look carefully at the picture above - really, really carefully - you will notice that there is not one bread crumb anywhere. He found every one of them. I doubt even Lord Zyz could have managed that.


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Some people are a mess

August 9th 2010 03:46
dog poo poster

Noo Yorkers have attitood, meaning they are not shy about making statements when something annoys them.

Take Jay Shells. What annoys him is people walking dogs who keep walking after their dogs do poo.

We’re with Jay on this, of course. People who don’t pick up after their dogs, thereby leaving it to someone else to do so, don’t deserve the right to walk down clean streets.

Their dogs deserve better owners.

Jay Shells feels the same, but he doesn’t use words to express his indignation. He’s a painter, and so he decided to put paint to canvas to express himself.

The result was a 2.6-metre message which has been turned into a poster which now adorns many walls in New York subways. The artwork features the message “Clean Up After Your Dog!” and has doggy poop bags attached.

Go Jay.
news.com.au


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Fluff attack

July 19th 2010 11:07
small white fluffy dog

Outside the supermarket was a vehicle from a foreign place. This was a busy, bustling, city supermarket. The vehicle was from a different world. It had a tray back and a bullbar. The suspension was raised and the tyres were built for rough terrain. Somewhere under the dust traces of white paint could be seen.

Inside the cabin was the dog. Everyone from the land has a dog. This one's back legs were on the seat and its nose was pressed to the window. Its narrowed eyes looked meaningfully at everyone who walked by.

This is my vehicle, it was saying. A working vehicle from the country. A tough vehicle, it said. And if you want to find out how tough I am, just trying coming closer.

There was just one problem. The dog was a small, white and fluffy. A Maltese terrier, perhaps. His pink tongue, as he wagged it at the strangers walking by, held all the menace of a lollipop.

Try as he might, he didn't match the vehicle.


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Daisy's diary: Today's news is ...

June 23rd 2010 10:28
pet dog greyhound daisy
There was an especially informative patch of grass as we were walking this morning. Two cats, seven dogs and a mouse had left their mark there in the past 24 hours.

I was still gathering information when Big Boss, in one of those inexplicable hooman reactions, said irritably, "Can you tell the colour of the dog whose pee you're sniffing?"

It's what hoomans call sarcasm. He does it because he thinks morning walks are for walking. He doesn't understand that they are actually for news gathering.

Of course I never take any notice of his grumbling. I know that his bark is worse than his grumble.

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Daisy's Diary: Guide to space

June 8th 2010 06:33
pet dog greyhound daisy scratchy

Big Boss has a problem with the concept of space. For example, when we are together in his dressing room, a morning ritual which I have written about earlier, the aim is to get as close as possible to him.

When we are out walking on the lead, however, the aim is sniff every wall, tree, plant and moving molecule, darting here and there to do so.

Up close and cosy in the dressing room; freedom to roam when walking.

Big Boss, for some inexplicable hooman reason, sees it the other way round.




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Daisy's Diary: The up-close room

June 6th 2010 20:06
pet dog greyhound daisy
One of the nice things about mornings in our home is the quiet time Big Boss and I spend in the up-close room.

I call it that because, being the compact space that it is, that's obviously what it is for - up-closeness


[ Click here to read more ]
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A field of Daisies

May 19th 2010 12:37
greyhound dog pet zoomies

As we walked into the veterinary clinic a man, standing before the reception desk, was talking about Daisy. This turned out to be a fluffy cat cradled in his arms, and not the confused black greyhound by my side.

[ Click here to read more ]
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Chris's Diary: Missing you

May 10th 2010 05:34
lamma island
Lamma Island

Dear Scratchy and Daisy,

[ Click here to read more ]
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pampered pooches

Life has been complicated here of late, and I am blaming certain “fans” of this blog who suggested that Scratchy, convalescing with a broken leg, would enjoy the comforts of a heated dog cushion.

[ Click here to read more ]
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toilet
One of our Scratching Seats, seen through the walls of the noisy water machine space

Hooman beings are slow creatures with poor eyesight and a non-existent sense of smell. They don't bark or whine and they smell funny because they don't lick themselves frequently enough. Worst of all, they have dry noses.

[ Click here to read more ]
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