I was rooting around in Alpha’s veggie patch one sunny day. I like to do this when he’s at work because it’s his pride and joy and he usually chases me out. Can’t understand why he doesn’t like me in his garden – it’s not like I really do anything wicked in there.
Although he does get miffed with me when I sit and squish his little green thingies.
Like it’s my fault?
I don’t have any control over where my butt-end lands – it’s miles away from my brains.
This particular day was quite a bargain though; I came across some little red blobs. Nibbled one and discovered that it was rather enjoyable.
Delicious in fact.
Scrabbled around looking for more – they were quite sneaky little things, cowering under leaves but I hunted them down and gobbled up every last one – just left the white bits.
Alpha looked a bit confused that evening and asked Mom if she knew what had happened to the strawberries.
Hmmmm, strawberries, so that’s what they’re called!
They were so tasty that I forgot to be careful and Alpha caught me cavorting around the strawberry patch a few days later, pouncing on the little yummy suckers. Lucky for me he laughed and called Mom to come check out the funny sight.
Have eaten them all now, but I check regularly to see if there are anymore.
Mom tossed me something out the garden last week. Let’s see you eat that Zed-Boy, she said. It was crunchy and not half as tasty as the strawberries, but still, not too shabby. Licked it a bit, nibbled it, and then finally crunched it down.
Guess what – there were lots more – found if I pulled at the green bits with my teeth, up came the crunchy bits.
Have even taught Skunk how to do this. Apparently they’re called radishes – not many of those left either.
Once, when I was deathly sick Mom put parsley in my yoghurt, course I didn’t know it was parsley – just this green stuff that got stuck on my gums and fearsome fangs. But then during my routine nibble of all the beds – discovered the same taste – so regularly have a hup (bite) of that frilly stuff too.
Alpha has now bought some wood to fence off his veggie patch. How very nasty and mean – denying a couple of canines their daily quota of fresh veggies.
Wonder what the SPCA would think about this?
I know all about the SPCA because I love to read. Well, Mom calls it reading.
What I do is this… first I chase that fur-ball Slayer off the pile where she is quite partial to cat-napping – under the work bench in the scullery. If she’s asleep it’s great – I just knock her off before she knows what’s happened. If she’s awake it’s not so easy – she has sharp hooky things at the end of her paws which don’t feel so good when they connect with my soft velvety nose. If she’s really awake but pretending to be asleep, then I’m in deep trouble.
Sorry for bein N€orry forwhain N€org long winded (well – I’m a long dog so what do you expect huh?) but you have to imagine the situation. There was this box where Mom keeps all the papers.
I say “was”, because it was a bit inconvenient reaching over the cat to get into the box, so one day, when they were out, Skunk and I trimmed all the edges off the box – it’s just a flat piece of cardboard now.
Usually I find the top bits of paper boring; it’s the ones underneath that are more interesting, so it can take me quite some time finding just the right bit to read.
We beautiful basset hounds are quite discerning you know. Once I’ve got the right paper – I need the right page – so I shake it around until all the pages scatter over the kitchen floor. Then I can pick and choose. When I’ve found just the right bit that tickles my fancy… I lie on it and read.
Skunk thought he could read too – but I snapped at him, pointing out that he was way too young and should leave the intelligent stuff to the big dudes like myself.
Mom said that this wasn’t true, even little dudes could start reading, so we gave him one of those shiny middle bits with all the pictures on. Stupid mutt ate it.
Told you so.
Got into trouble once when I tried reading a paper I found on the couch. Well, it was just lying there, wasn’t it? Turned out it was this local stuff called “The Advertiser” and Mom hadn’t finished reading it.
Pshaw! Humans are so fussy – paper is paper I say. What’s all the fuss?