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dog, pet, greyhound


One of the biggest problems in the known universe is the inability of human beings to rise at first light and give dogs their breakfast. It's shocking and sad how many humans fail to understand this.

Especially my Big Boss.

Can you believe that he gets up every day at the same time — which can be defined for the purposes of this blog post as approximately 17 seconds after I whine outside his bedroom door at 6.31am — and, emerging into the Greater Dog World, exhibits the following priorities:

1. He disappears into the small room with the slippery floor.
2. He goes to the other small room with the whirring machine and the bright screen and the clackety board.
3. He goes (finally!) to the food room and — get this — makes food for himself before me.
4. Oh, yeah, and before Daisy.

So, this morning, in desperation, I found a new way of amusing myself while waiting for breakfast. I really enjoyed myself, and I thoroughly recommend this to all of you. I promise your Humans won't be troubled by this. Well, Big Boss wasn't — all he did was grab a camera.

By the way, it's not essential to be colour-coordinated to do this. But it helps if you want to look irresistibly gorgeous in the pictures.

dog, pet, greyhound








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Scratchy’s Diary: Australia Day

January 31st 2010 03:16
pet dog greyhound maltese terrier
All the bosses stayed home on Tuesday because it was Australia Day, which is a celebration of sorts. It’s like Greyhound Day with lots of food and, also, those drinks hoomans like which increases the volume of their speech.

I don’t know what it’s called. Noise juice, perhaps.

I wish I could eat as much as I want just once in my life, let alone every Australia Day.

Not only did the Bosses stay home, a lot of their friends came to visit, including the family of Prilly. She’s a Maltese Terrier. Prilly is short for Priscilla. I said to her, "Hey Prill, if you were addicted to ice-cream, would that make you ‘Priscilla, Queen of the Dessert’?”

But she didn’t laugh.

pet dog greyhound maltese terrier


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Ceremonial greetings

January 20th 2010 04:04
greyhound
Greyhounds have long necks and they love to have them scratched. It instantly stops their excited jiggling, and in its place comes a balletic movement of the head from side to side. This is alternated with a stretching of the neck, both to change the point of contact and to maximise it.

With two dogs, moving on to the ear scratch calls for rationing, rather than maximisation, of efficiency. Take one ear from each dog and knead firmly at the base thereof. Crossing their heads brings the action closer, and is easy in my case as Scratchy is considerably taller than Daisy.

Now the paths of attention diverge according to preference. For Daisy, it's time for a tummy rub, which she adores. Scratchy re-presents his neck — he sees little value in tummy rubs.

The final movement is the back massage, with fingers pincering gently in the soft tissue along either side of the spine, moving slowly down to the tail bone. A quick massage there — the secret spot through which you can befriend any dog — and that's it for today.

Coming home to a house without dogs must be dull.


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D-cup

January 15th 2010 21:36
teacup dog bed
If this unusual dog bed brought to your mind such adjectives as tacky, tawdry and tasteless, I offer congratulations on your powers of alliteration.

It is an American product and it no doubt has a market. I never judge or make sweeping statements, but my guess is that the market is myopic dimwits on the seedy side of Hollywood whose taste is all in their dentures.

Of course, there are circumstances in which I wouldn't hesitate to get one, such as if I acquired a dog named Storm. When he goes to bed I could point and say, "There's Storm in a teacup." If he were a doberman pinscher, I could say, "Pinsch in kitsch." Opportunities not to be missed.

But wait — if it's a teacup for dogs, does that make it a D-cup?




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Cone call

January 14th 2010 21:05
cone collar

Part 2 of the story started yesterday: Halo from hell


A dog cone collar, also known as an Elizabethan collar or a space collar, comes in a variety of sizes and colours. Some have padded neck areas for extra comfort, some are fully padded for extra status, and you can buy special stickers so the kids can get involved.

There is no name, model, style, colour or decoration, however, which has ever won approval from a single dog or cat.

Late on the first day of Scratchy's one-month sentence of wearing a cone collar, he negotiated his way out the door into the backyard. He took a deep-breath of sweet evening air foully scented with plastic from his cone collar, and decided to walk around the side of the house. This narrow alley, barely wide enough for two greyhounds to pass each other, is Scratchy's favourite toilet spot.

I don't know how long he stood there, unable to turn around because of the huge cone on his head, before I found him and helped him out. That's when I decided to find an alternative to the cone, which was disturbing me almost as much as it was clearly disturbing Scratchy.

We have in our household a pair of ladies silk pajamas. Of the softest texture, and the softest sky blue, they were bought many years ago in Hong Kong's famous Stanley Market, and served their mistress faithfully. I found them in the laundry, in the rag bag.

I cut about six inches off a trouser leg. I slipped this over Scratchy's wounded leg, wrapped the top end of the silk tightly just above the knee, and secured it with a liberal application of medical gauze.

We now had a covered wound, meaning Scratchy couldn't lick it, but open at the bottom, which means air could get in.

He's been wearing it for two days now and, while he's had a little nibble at the gauze, he hasn't been able to undo it, and he hasn't been able to get at the wound, which has dried out and is healing nicely. Scratchy shook his leg a few times initially when walking, but has become used to it. He even wore his blue silk leg skirt to the park this morning, and acted unfazed and indifferent when Daisy sniggered.

The plastic cone collar, meanwhile, sits discarded in a corner of the shed. I hope I never see it again.

greyhound

greyhound







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Halo from hell

January 13th 2010 21:55
dog cone collar

The vet gave it a long name in an even longer forgotten language, but I can't remember the term. Basically, it describes what can happen to a skin graze if it doesn't heal. "And it won't heal," said the vet, "if the dog keeps licking it."

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Oodles of fun

January 5th 2010 04:42
yorkiepoo
A Yorkshire terrier-poodle cross, known as a Yorkiepoo
Crossing assorted breeds of dogs with poodles to create designer canines has become popular. You see them everywhere you go now — there are oodles of them.

The idea is that you can combine the intelligence and friendly nature of poodles with the characteristcs of any other breed you fancy. Another plus is that a poodle can be crossed with pretty much anything and the poodle's cuddly, curly coat will prevail. We proved the dominance of the gene by crossing poodles with a brick and a crocodile. The resulting broodles and crocodoodles are soft and cuddly


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Scratchy's diary: raw and sore

January 4th 2010 05:28
greyhound cushion
I woke up in a funny place recently. No familiar faces, no Short Black and no Bosses. Just some cats in cages and the smell of disinfectant. There were some people I didn't know, some dressed in green and some dressed in white, but they were no more generous than Big Boss when it came to supplying food.

The thing is, I woke up sore. All my muscles were stiff, like I'd been running 40 kilometres instead of 400 metres. And I had raw, sore patches on my front legs, like I'd been banging them on something


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The end of an epilepsy tale

January 2nd 2010 00:56
pet dog greyhound
Every day, as the evening shadows lengthen, as the birds settle into their nests and families everywhere gather after their day of work, Scratchy chases his tail.

It is one of the two things he does to remind me that it is dinner time. The other is to stand and stare in my direction with a direct, concentrated gaze that says, "I am in danger of passing out with hunger, my blood sugar levels are low, my bone marrow is screaming for sustenance and the clock on the wall is 37 minutes slow


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Nightmare

December 31st 2009 02:30
canine epilepsy
We nearly lost Scratchy. It happened more than a week ago and if I haven't written about it yet it's because it was one of the more traumatic things I have seen. It was also all my fault.

Scratchy is epileptic. He had his first seizure just weeks after we got him about two years ago, and he has been on medication ever since. Every morning and evening he bears with us, in his perennially good-natured way, as we prise his jaws open and drop tablets into the back of his throat


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