Dear Darstedly, Muttley & Billie The Bums

Dear Furballs,

Lately things have become a bit hairy around here (excuse the pun). There’s been a distinct slackness and you’re driving the Male Human and I demented. This is in breach of our contract and a definite deal breaker. I feel it is time to remind you of the rules that we have always operated under. You are all cute dogs, but your continued cuteness in no way negates our previous agreement. Let me remind you of a few details of this agreement.

I am the undisputed leader of this pack and the Alpha Female. I will not be trifled with. You will listen and you will obey. When I say ‘off’ the couch, I mean off the goddamn couch. I don’t mean turn into a small tight little ball and tuck your face under your butt. Just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean I can’t still see you.

In exchange for room and board, you are to guard the kingdom. That would be guarding the kingdom from all bad guys, robbers, serial killers, etc. Feel free to bark maniacally at any of those that should appear on the property. Guarding the kingdom does not include barking maniacally at birds, wind, the neighbour farting, a bug and invisible things that only you can see. Especially between the hours of 6pm and 7am. The point is, only bark if it is a real emergency (let me take a moment here to remind you that the Mr. Delivery guy is a potential bad guy. He is not your friend. Just because he comes bearing food does not allow him free and easy access to the kingdom. He is potentially way more dangerous than the birdies that you threaten to tear limb from limb. I’d rather you gave him hell).

All squeaky balls, random bones, partially unstuffed stuffed animals and chew ropes are your woobies. Everything else is mine. Mine includes all shoes on the floor, underwear that is within reach of your snout or paws in the chest of drawers, socks, tissue paper and food momentarily placed on the coffee table. Did I mention the shoes? ALL the shoes are mine. They come in pairs for a reason. Not quads. And certainly not singles.

The humans sleep on the bed. You do not. First off, we just don’t share our space with you in that way. Besides, you might only weigh 2.2kg’s respectively, but you manage to sleep smack dab in the middle of the bed with all four paws spread out. More importantly, quit sneaking up when you think I’m not looking. You might reckon you’re a stealth machine and a veritable doggy ninja, but the not-so-quiet pitter patter of little paws on the wooden floor negates your stealth superpowers. I know what you’re up to.

By the same merit – sneaking, sleeping and messing in the guest room is NOT allowed. You are not a human. You are not a guest. Get it right. That applies to the floor of my closet too.

Contrary to your belief that you need to bark ferociously at the whispering wind, I would prefer for you to bark at the two cats who constantly peruse the garden and, in particular, the lavender bush. You know how I feel about cats. A bit of willing and earnest would be appreciated when next confronted with the next-door kitty. A blank look, followed by a yelp and some belated barking does not quite show me that I am well guarded against an invasion of feline proportions.

If you find something in the garbage, assume that I intend for it to be there. Especially embarrassing things are not chew toys. Don’t eat them. Don’t drag them out and show them off to the guests.

Also not for doggy consumption – any of your own excrement. Eating your own poop because you feel like it, is not cool. This is why you no longer get to kiss me.

Yes, I have to leave every day to go to work. No, you cannot go with me. That’s why there are three of you, so you can entertain each other. You have to stay outside while I’m gone. Mostly because you get up to mischief. You do. So quit whining about it. You have shelter, water and food outside. You even have you pink and purple dinosaur woobies. It’s just like inside the house minus the couch – which you’re not allowed to sit on anyway. Do not lead us a merry chase around the house or down the street, every time you realize we’re about to leave. It’s not going to make us stay. No work = No money = No Beano.

I have opposable thumbs. This is why I get to be in charge. I can open cans, doors, and bags of treats. I am the one that buys the Beano. Being cute is no match for opposable thumbs.

While we do care very much for you and in no way wish to suppress your rightful doggieness, I feel that these very simple guidelines will allow us to continue to co-exist in peaceful harmony. Please know though, that should you choose to continue in willful violation of these rules, I will put the Male Human in charge. He has just been itching for a position in dog discipline management.

Much thanks,

The Leader of the Pack

This weekend

Was slothful. Seriously. After the past few weeks I’ve had, it was take it very very easy or implode. I opted not to implode (Messy, blood on the walls,
guts everywhere. So not a good look). 

Anyhoo…Some random pics.     

Was an awesome day in the Mother City yesterday and we opted to walk into town for brunch (Try the vanilla french toast with bacon at Table 13 in Victoria Junction, Greenpoint. Totally boss brekkie).     

Totally boss brekkie
The breakfast of champions. And HRH Echoes

 

On the way there and back we had glorious weather     

Spring day in Cape Town
How blue is that sky? I know. Ridiculous.

 

Along the way we saw Drury lane, but not the Muffin Man. I inserted my own Muffin Man …     

The Marlboro Man standing in for the Muffin Man.

 

 Then I came home and had some of these     

Whiskey Sour...always a winner!

 

Unfortunately, the furballs suffered from my Sunday domesticity     

Unhappy much?

 

and the rest of the day…sadly some work and, on a happier note, meatballs and spaghetti (from scratch, nogals).     

I might just be ready for the week, I’d say.