Scratchy’s missed feast
May 1st 2011 07:08
Last night Scratchy’s sleep was influenced by magic and canine gods and goddesses.
It was watched over by oneiroi, attendants of Hypnos, the human god of sleep.
The sand-dog visited early and dispensed a double dose of greyhound sleep medicine (as if a greyhound needs any at all).
Then choirs of several angelic animal species sang lullabies in an extended recital, culminating in a sleep sonata in 12-part harmony.
Through this, Scratchy dreamed of travel to the Dog Star, where he found the streets strewn with bacon bones.
Last night, there was nothing under the moon, or beyond it, that could have woken Scratchy from his sleep.
All this explains why he didn’t find the large plastic container of dog food in the pantry. It sat all night on the floor, where I had accidentally left it - without its lid on.
Daisy hasn’t stopped laughing all day.
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Comment by INDIOSDAD
Hey bud if you can't get up for extra food send it to me. There's never enough food for me. My homan dad says I'd eat in my sleep.
Just send it to
SNOOPYS HOUSE
CORONA CA.
Everyone knows where it is.
Waiting for the food
SNOOPY GREYHOUND
Comment by Chris Champion
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It's almost enough to make me doubt my food instinct. I've got an AA rating from the Intergalactic Association of Gluttons, but who knows how much I'll get downgraded if they hear about this.
Worst week of my life.
Comment by Heidiclyde
Heidi ses yer not barkin ter me cos I gave yer a furphy last time I wrote ter ya.
Hey mate, any time yer needs er mate ter stand by ya when ther chips are dahn yer c'n count me in.
Can't hely yer with ther food stuff, did'n want me breakfust terday, but I'll give them Gluttons er serve if yer wants.
Clyde.
Comment by Chris Champion
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Didn't mean to ignore a comment from you. Maybe I missed it while dreaming about bacon bones.
I know you don't understand my position on food - hey, I don't understand yours either
Just believe me, I've never been so humiliated.
S
Comment by INDIOSDAD
Scratch and Clyde;
I'm a RED NECK from California. We have a language issue. We like beer with our meals not wine (ok we do whine) We like ribs on the grill (Barbie to you) our idea of dressing up is a pair of jeans with out holes and a shirt with sleeves. We speak American English (sort of) but dad says I have to use right english stead of taken like someone from the hills in the back woods.
So now I need your help. Please translate Clydes blog I dont undrestand a word of it. I know its all clear to you but to me it's like tryn to catch a pig that fell in a tub o lard on a hot day.
Please don't be mad at me
Snoopy
Comment by Chris Champion
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Clyde's patois is his own and decipherable, I suspect, only by Brits and Australians.
My Big Boss seems to understand it okay, but seems to think translating it would be a bit like taking the colour out of "like trying to catch a pig that fell in a tub o lard on a hot day".
Try changing that, he says, and it loses its value.
Oh well, at least you and I can communicate like civilised canines. On which note, let me say it's such a pleasure seeing you here.
Wags, leans and licks,
Daisy
Comment by TanyaMary
The Intergalactic Association of Gluttons sent me the news. Apparently I have been promoted to No.1 Glutton. Some fool of a dog missed the most awesome opportunity for gluttondom and was demoted. That wasn't you, was it?
Lynx
Comment by Chris Champion
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Scratch
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Comment by TanyaMary
Do you often get pigs in lard? How do they taste? Yummy I'll bet. Good to meet you. Do you like food too?
See you 'round the dog bowl.
Lynx
Comment by INDIOSDAD
No I don't like food. I LOVE FOOD
As far as pigs in lard I don't know how often pig fall in lard. But according to my human dad the lard makes them real slippery so they are hard to catch I would like to try tho cuz I like pork especially CHICHARRONES
(Google that one Scratch). I go after them faster then a frog that landed on a hot plate.
I'm hungry
Snoopy
Comment by TanyaMary
You will have to excuse Lynx and his one track mind at the moment. T & M have recently installed what I can only describe as a wmd. (A weapon of meal deprivation.) To say that lynx is feeling depressed is a bit of an understatement but he only has himself to blame. If he didn't insist on inspecting the kitchen benches all the time it wouldn't have happened. There is now a mat on the floor that zaps us when we walk on it, making it look like we are doing a dance. I don't think I need to tell you that it is not very pleasant. Dogs don't dance. Unfortunately for T&M, I think Lynx is already working out how to get around it.
We'll see...
Beyleigh
Comment by Chris Champion
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Well, it would be popular in my house if my humans loved me enough to give me some.
I know what we'll be dreaming about tonight Snoop.
Scratch
Comment by Chris Champion
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Comment by TanyaMary
Lynx
Dip.Gluttony I.A.G
Comment by Heidiclyde
We've been off the planet for a while because the Boss and Missus have been down to Adelaide (the big smoke to Clyde). We had the grand children (carpet grubs or ankle biters to Clyde) and their parents here to look after us. Our foster hound who is also called Clyde had a field day. The packet of chicken necks got left on the bench for the second time in a week (the Missus was to blame the first time) and he got the lot again! He is definitely more like the rest of you hungry boys than my Clyde.
The Boss and the Missus are beginning to fall apart at the edges, the Boss had to have some nasty skin things taken off. He grew up in the Northern Territory (the bush or the sticks to Clyde) and he is a red head who apparently tried to get his freckles to join together so he had a tan like his mates. The Missus says it's inevitable he got a few nasties but good he's keeping an eye out for them so they go before they are really nasty. The Missus gets her turn next , she's getting new knees, but only one at a time. Then they both have to get new eyes.
Have you begun to see something of a similarity between Clyde and the Boss and the Missus? They do say hoomans begin to resemble their dogs after a while but this is taking things somewhat to the extreme don't you think? At least they don't have tails they can get caught in the Laundry door.
Dear Beyleigh,
You don't really mean that about a zapping mat do you? How horrible! I suppose Lynx's greed does call for drastic measures but I'd be afraid to walk anywhere in the house in case it bit me.
Snoopy,
I must apologise for Clyde's poor diction. I'm afraid he was born in the bush, actually in a little town called Two Wells that's not that far to the north of Adelaide judged by hooman distances (Clyde would say "about a dozen six packs up the road") but it is a completely different world of vast blue skies, grain fields and dust and people who don't need to hurry or watch the clock. Clyde went to Adelaide to race but as they say, you can take the boy out of the bush but you can't take the bush out of the boy and now he's living back in the grain country his drawl get's slower and slower.
I can tell you that he has a dozen different expressions for feeling ill from "he's not too clever today" through, "He's a bit crook" or "He's Talarook" to "Geeze he looked like he were about ter clag ther bag" (which implies the person is about to die) but he never complains about his own dodgy health. He can call someone stupid in 20 different ways from "he's a stupid Galah" through "He's a couple of snags short of a barbie" or "He's got a couple of "Roo's loose in the top paddock" to "If yer brains were made of elastic there wouldn't be enough to make a garter for a one legged canary" but he's really not all that bright himself. He can be quite sarcastic "Yeah an me other leg plays jingle bells" or "don't come the raw prawn with me mate!" (said when someone has made a completely outrageous claim) without actually knowing the meaning of the word and without wanting to hurt anyone's feelings. He was a hot favourite on the track and sometimes, when I really annoy him, reminds me I was nothing but a hairy goat after the tin bunny (meaning I couldn't run fast enough) but he has no airs and graces.
Occasionally he allows the world to get him down and complains that "If it were raining palaces I'd be hit by the dunny door" (a dunny is an outdoors toilet) or gets a bit fed up with the current foster hound "I hope the Missus' chooks grow into Emu's and kick your flaming arse" or "Ah' give it a rest, you're up and down like a bride's nighty and about as useful as tits on a bull" but generally he's a sweet placid old bloke happy as a bush full of budgies just observing the world going past.
Of course because he has a true bush drawl he doesn't write in good English like mine. Angela, who coordinates our Greyhound Adoption Program here in South Australia comes from the United States and she says she can make more sense of his messages if she reads them aloud. Sometimes though she still needs her husband Adrian to help a bit.
I hope this helps a bit. Clyde is sorry reading his lingo is hard yakka for you but hopes you'll have a go (he's being really polite here, if it were Scratchy complaining he'd say "Ahh, jes hev er go yer mug!").
Like Daisy I welcome you to our blog (I can say that now that I've had my very own entry on it) and look forward to further conversations with you. It must be wonderful living where you can eat Chicharrones, the idea makes my mouth water, we just get the occasional piece of bacon rind. At least Clyde usually leaves his so I get double shares.
Your friend,
Heidi.
Comment by Chris Champion
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Good to have yer back mate. It's been quiet around here without you. And everyone's been talking proper English, which can be dull.
Here's what you missed while you were in the big smoke: Snoopy's Boss has a red neck and doesn't understand a word you say, Snoopy eats way better than we do (pigs in lard and something divine called chicharonnes), Tanya's had to resort to electrical defences against Lynx's food instinct (earning Lynx a Gluttony Hall of Fame nomination), and Daisy and Lynx have been making fun of me for an incident the other night when I slept through ... no, sorry, the experience is still too raw for me to talk about it. Maybe another time.
Comment by Heidiclyde
It wasn't Clyde who got back to you, it was me! Quite frankly if you're going to discuss food issues you are better off talking to me. Clyde would give you a blank stare and tell you you're a real drongo or words to that effect for getting your nappy in a knot over a bit of missed food.
Now me, I understand perfectly and I'm sure Tiger Clyde (as the ankle biter calls our present foster hound) would too if he'd stand still for long enough to allow a thought to filter through to his brain. It must have been a horrible moment when you woke to realise what an opportunity you had missed.
Listen Scratchy, I've done a lot of thinking on this subject. Can I suggest you and Lynx arrange to transport the hated electric mat to your house and place your bed upon it. You then attach a lead from it to the food bin. This lead would cause the mat to make your bed jump about whenever the food bin lid was off, this way you could sleep peacefully knowing you would never miss such a great opportunity again and Lynx would have free range of the cupcakes and muffins again!
Clyde will write to you soon but don't expect any sympathy over your gluttony. He simply doesn't understand the meaning of the word.
Licks and tail wags,
Heidi.
Comment by INDIOSDAD
OK thanks for the info. My hooman dad tried the trick of reading Clyds comments out loud and it worked instead of being clear as mud we actualy understood a good part of it. Also I was happy to get some of the terms Clyde uses translated to something I can understand. I will when I use any redneckian try to remember to do the same.
Scratchy my hooman dad does not have a red neck he is a Red Neck. Red Necks are down home folk (ordinary prople ) who work for a livin (living) and only want a honest days pay for a honest days work and don't on no aires. For many years considered an insult in parts of the country now a badge of honor for most. Sometimes we use phrases that while clear to us to others it can be confusing or funny but if you think about it true.
As for CHICHARRONES dad does not use them to cook anything we eat them as snacks> Dad eats them while watching TV or movies at home. We line up and hope that he dropps one or breaks down and gives us one each. They are so good. If ya all come out to California we can share some or have some of the doggie cookies from the Walmart or the Kmart.Or as a real treat we could all have a home made FROSTY PAW (doggie ice cream) this week we have chicken noodle flavor.
Snoop Dog
Comment by TanyaMary
Lynx
Comment by INDIOSDAD
I woofed at dad and he says OKIDOKEY.(means yes)
When you get here we will have a party. Dad says there is always room for more GREYHOUNDS. There is 3 of us right now but sometimes there are as many as 5 when we have some fosters Dad is not too good at fostering he always wants to keep them. Thats how I got to stay cause I am blind and was rejected by other homes.
Snoopy the treat monster
Comment by Heidiclyde
Chris writes abaht somethin as borin' as bat shit, I mean whuts ut abaht ol Scratch not gettin ter diddle food thut wer'nt his anyway? He'd'uv copped ur real serve ef he'd god'ut, dead set'e would so what's ther good uv ut?
Yeah ut were'er bid uv er lark but youse blokes go jaggin abaht ut like ut's got legs.
Geeze mates, yer er mob uv garbage guts natterin on fer eva abaht food, an when ther Missus writes abaht Christmas on er stick, goin racin, nun uv yer says er thing!
Ut's like yer dun give er rats's arse fer thu game! Cripes, runnin dahn ther tin bunny wus ther ants pants! Dun yer remember ther lunge aht uv ther gate an yer heart howlin erway in yer chest an yer toes eatin inter ther sand as yer pounds ther track ter fly rahnd ther course? Dun yer remember ther crowds cheerin yer on an ther speakers yellin yer name as yer streaks ter the finish? Dun yer remember yer trainer huggin yer an laughin ut yer as yer came prancin an grinnin off ther track? Dun yer remember ther sound an ther smell, an ther pricklin fidgetin glory uv ut all? Whut's er bowl uv food got ter put up ergenst thut?
Yeah, foods orl'right, ut keeps ther ribs frum stickin tergether an cheese an that'r not too bad, but F'cryin aht loud! Y'carry on like uts bigger'n ther Melbourne Cup field!
Stone ther crows mates, talk abaht er bunch uv galahs, I reckons yer've all lost ther plot somewhere dahn ther track.
Clyde.
Comment by Chris Champion
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If Clyde called me a drongo, he might be right. Little Boss sometimes calls me that, Big Boss calls me that a lot, and Daisy's never called me anything else.
What, by the way, is a drongo? Daisy says it's a dog with aristocratic blood lines, but I don't always trust what she says.
S
Comment by Chris Champion
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I'll come to America with you. We could travel on the Gravy Train. Or, better, something the Big Boss sometimes sings about in the shower: the Chicharrones Choo-Choo I think it is.
S
Comment by Chris Champion
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Lynx and I are on our way. We're bringing Clyde too. He won't dance or eat much at the party, but he can wear a funny hat and change the music.
See you soon,
Scratchy
PS Where exactly is California? Do we turn left or right at the end of the street?
Comment by Chris Champion
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Yeah, well, dogs for courses, and all that. Several courses, preferably, starting with Jumbo Yoghurt Container Residue, followed by ...
Anway, I had seven bro's and sis's who had long racing careers. Of course, none of them was epilecktric, or whatever it is, like me. I had to find alternate vocational inspiration. I thought of doing accountancy, but then I found food.
Did I ever tell you one of my sisters was named Itchy? Seriously, Scratchy and Itchy. I miss Itchy sometimes.
Scratch
Comment by INDIOSDAD
Hey come on down or is that up for you dad keeps sayn that you arefrom the land down under.. Down under what? I don't understand.
Dad is making FROSTY PAWS today this time its Apple sauce so it's a good time to come over. Sorry but I get to lick the bowl after he makes them.
Since I have to make two right turns when I leave my house I guess you would make a left.Just use your GPS GREYHOUND POSITIONING SATTELITE to find my house.Dad don't get lost much anymore since he got one.
Waiten for you to get here
Snoopy
Comment by INDIOSDAD
When ya all gets here I be thinkin it would be slicker than snott on a glass door knob if yuns taut me ta speaks Australian
Snoops
Comment by TanyaMary
I don't get called a drongo much. But dufus, all the time. I reckon it's something like a drongo cos it starts with d.
Lynx
Comment by TanyaMary
Comment by Jessiesmum
Love and licks
Jessica
Comment by Jessiesmum
Dont worry bout the fact you dont eat like those blokes and sheilas either..... they act like one of those big sucky things my mum uses to pick up the dust bunnies i think she calls 'em... I never see any of those cause if i did.... mmmm...bunnies!!!
Jessica
Comment by Heidiclyde
Regarding your enquiry about what is a drongo, Daisy, like Clyde is inclined to sarcasm at times, though I'm sure she is aware of that, unlike Clyde. So no, a drongo is not a hound of aristocratic bloodlines as she has led you to believe though a hound of aristocratic bloodlines may very well be a drongo. A drongo is, in Clyde speak, a lamb brained Galah, a ding-bat and a real mopoke, a drongo is as silly as a hat full of worms or as nutty as a fruit cake, he hasn't the sense to come in out of the rain, couldn't organise a chook raffle in a country pub and he couldn't catch a fly in a country dunny. All in all your nearest and dearest consider you to be a Tim-Tam short of a packet and a brick short of a load. Do you understand now sweetie?
Heidi.
Comment by Heidiclyde
Y'know hoomans sometimes say I'm pretty cos uv me ears but yer ther fust hound ever ter say I'm handsome. Geeeze I got all lit up like er Christmas tree! Then Heidi says yer've got no taste, plurry Sheila, whad'ud she know?
Dun wurry Jess girl, ther rest uv'em can slop their food arahn, an gulp ut dahn, I've got ther Missus trained now an I gets ter eat whut I likes how I likes, s'long as I wait fer ther "free" ter eat. An'if I dun wunt ut thut's orright too. I jus dun unnerstan livin ter eat like ol Scratch dus.
licks an stuff,
Clyde.
Comment by Heidiclyde
Y'know hoomans sometimes say I'm pretty cos uv me ears but yer ther fust hound ever ter say I'm handsome. Geeeze I got all lit up like er Christmas tree! Then Heidi says yer've got no taste, plurry Sheila, whad'ud she know?
Dun wurry Jess girl, ther rest uv'em can slop their food arahn, an gulp ut dahn, I've got ther Missus trained now an I gets ter eat whut I likes how I likes, s'long as I wait fer ther "free" ter eat. An'if I dun wunt ut thut's orright too. I jus dun unnerstan livin ter eat like ol Scratch dus.
licks an stuff,
Clyde.