doglets | Entries tagged with anthromorphism

The Feds were clip-boarded up doing house-to-house enquiries. A Fed spotted me and gave me a cheery wave.

“Shit” I muttered knowing Kato’s attitude to strangers “Just be nice”

“Can I go off lead?” asked Kato spotting a window of opportunity

“No, because you’ll go in someone’s garage again and embarrass me. Just don’t growl and stuff”

“Stuff?”

“The telepathic sock puppet thing – don’t do that” I muttered “Hello officer”

“Are you local?” he asked

“No, guilty, I mean yes” I stammered, acutely conscious of the psychic Kato mind melding and projecting League of Gentleman images. I was a Local Dog Walker for Local...

“Is he friendly?” asked the police officer

“Yes, I mean not really, well strangers, no”

Kato put her back left paw on top of her head so she could wash her Mary. Not being as spritely as she once was she toppled over.

The PC said they were in the area making the community aware of home security. Kato sat up to go through her object identification index. Kato was rummaging in the part of her brain marked “Chewables” and comparing him to a honking mallard she once owned. Kato inhaled the Police Mans shoe. I tugged her lead.

“Bacon” said Kato but luckily it just sounded like a low growl. I gave her a gentle kick. Kato grumbled something that sounded like "Animal Welfare Act 2006"
"Good guarder" said the PC, gave me a leaflet and said something about anything suspicious.
Kato was bored of identifying and was now doing a retching cough.

“She’s been on the grass” I explained and immediately blushed wondering if the PC might think I meant illegal grass type substance and stupidly added “Field grass”

On pre-bin day, I put the bins out after Kato walk. This sometimes means our bins are out on the pavement a little early contravening Galactic Bin Laws but we’re mavericks and that’s how we roll. We’re not the full on rebellious uprising like the hipsters next door who never take their bins in, like ever. Putting out the bins is a tangle of me holding Kato lead and wrestling various wheelie bins through our rickety gate.

“You could” suggested Kato “Use my Sit-Stay command, and then, use both hands to manoeuvre the bins, preferable to you smashing into the gate post whilst choking me”

“How am I choking you? You’re not on a neck collar” I muttered

“Winding me then you clumsy pedant”

“I don’t know Kato, it’s a busy road, and your sit stays are a bit...”

“A bit what?!”

“A bit lacking, the sit goes well but then the stay bit seems to evade you...anyway, it’s done now, come on...Kato...come...KATO...yes, it’s a fabulous stay...FFS...come on....how do you make yourself so heavy...un-stay now...yes, you’ve proved your point...”

I went to visit Rainbowskye for a long overdue catch-up, talk about cake and meet the Rabbits. On my return home I was a “Person of Interest” helping DCI Kato and DS Frodi with their enquiries. Both inhaled me as if I was the last residue of a cocaine wrap. They stood back and blinked, then inhaled again.

DCI Kato brain processor was hovering between Potential Food Item and Alien. DS Frodi was conducting a forensic analysis of my right sleeve. The scent of Bunny tapped some repressed memory stored in his genetic code. Frodi had the strangest instinct to fry onions till golden, add carrot, celery, thyme, rosemary, season to taste and simmer in a...

“E.T.” said Kato confidently having gone through her entire object identification files twice.

I was released without charge.

We were trotting along, I was carrying a bag of Kato finest poo. Tooled up as I think of it. Don’t mess with us I’m armed. I usually discard the poo bag in the Bus Stop Poo Bin.

We stopped.

Bus Stop Poo Bin was missing. Like a stolen painting, there was just the outline of where the Poo Bin used to rest.

“Missing is the Bin!!” I exclaimed to Kato

“Ha ha – you’ve turned into Yoda” said Kato

“That makes you an e-wok then” I retorted

“Have you even seen that film?” asked Kato

Kato has a point. I don’t know if I’ve seen it or not. My memory says I saw it in a cinema the year of release. I seem to know the story - boy rescues princess in space.

“Yeah. I’ve seen it. I think” I said “Maybe it’s an implanted memory and I’m a replicant”

“That’s Bladerunner” tutted Kato

Anyway, I am going to write a stern e-mail to the Jedi Council to report the missing Poo Bin.

Kato sniffs along the walls, fences and lampposts “reading” messages though she rarely replies. She keeps her longer streams of opinions for the field, or blog as I think of it. Kato has to bend to “read” the tweets, scrolling her nose up and down the messages. This looks ridiculous, bum in the air bending down to scan the messages. No more ridiculous than humans narrowly missing lampposts as they scroll through 10 amazing Eccles Cake facts. Sometimes the site crashes and randomly deletes things #rain

We hadn’t been on her #regular-walk for awhile so Kato had a lot to read back. We slowly made our way to the field as Kato scanned, scrolled, followed links and even re-tweeted a few things. We arrived at her field but she wanted to turn back.

Obviously Kato was wishing she had favourited something or decided that she did need to know what she wouldn’t believe happened next to 10 hamsters who live with celebrity cats. Maybe she would finally un-friend that poodle who tweets dubious political views. Kato filters him but his anti-mixed breed attitudes still get through. Kato is worried that she’ll be tagged in one of his posts and other dogs think she shares his opinion. Sometimes she’s sniffs and looks indignant, I imagine it’s some over privileged pedigree post about how rescue dogs bring it on themselves and are too idle to get proper owners. Kato will squat to add a snarky message back then worry that her snarky message gets misinterpreted as agreement. I then get dragged back while she re-sniffs and curses the lack of an edit function.

Sometimes there are sinister messages left in our garden or Kato’s own messages seem to have been hacked. #foxtroll

Recently, I have been pondering the inequality of Goofy versus Pluto. Goofy wears clothes, walks on two legs, can talk and has a distinctive personality. Pluto walks on four legs, has no clothes and doesn’t talk. What's that all about Disney eh?

When Frody was first presented to us – he wasn’t even in the Pluto camp, he was small, looked fractious and just like any other skanky mongo you would never be able to pick out of a line-up.
“I don’t like him” I hissed at hippy
“Well, we’re here now” said hippy “We’ll just do this walk and make some excuse”
“We don’t like him” hissed Kato and Java
“Shurrup” said hippy and I “Someone will hear you and talking dogs can get in all sorts of scrapes – look at Scooby Doo”
“A cartoon dog?” said Java sarcastically
“Gromit”
“Clever but silent” said Java "And plastacine"
“Brian from Family Guy.....” hippy offered
“Oh yeah, he’s the man” said Kato, then peered at Frody “Unlike him over there, he’s well minging”

But his Hard Luck story melted our hearts – the answer to his problems to us seemed glaringly obvious, he needed company, he needed more than a short burst of hyper- stimulation that left him craving more, he needed more space and less rules. We knew we were the perfect chance for him – but he just didn’t light our fires on that first meeting

After that first walk – we very unenthusiastically said we would give it a go. Dragged the frightened little man through the streets of Bridgnorth and forced him into the car. As he stepped into Canine Feminist Collective HQ – suddenly he became Pluto. Recognisable, a distinctive collie cross muppet with a liking for sticks, but still just-a-dog. Not a Goofy.

Sunday – Fridy fell asleep during Top Gear, squashed between me, hippy, Kato and Javalar on the bed “I think he prefers Cash in the Attic” I said to hippy “And he quite likes Escape to the Country”
Frody looked up – muttered something about Clarkson being a knob, and went back to sleep.

So, he’s now a Goofy, he talks, he has likes & dislikes, emotions and interests and he is developing his own personality. Now to work out which football team he supports.......

Current Mood: silly

Java went to Gromit with her Walllace over Xmas so took her presents with her. Pleased with the box of Dog-o-Chocs but less pleased (initially) with her big present - until she realised its usefulness whilst going to the Poo Tree on Lindisfarne over New Year. Her Wallace thought we had bought her a Santa Paws outfit.........

( Read more... )

In Therapy:
Humans have purchased us a CD - by a band called FIrework Therapy and its rubbish. Got no beat, no bass, no lyrics - just some ambient rubbish like a Coil B-SIde mixed with early Throbbing Gristle. Apparently we have to listen to it on ever-increasing volume for Seven of our Dog Years. And its therapy. We will be well adjusted, phobia-free doglets and Miss Pissy Pants kAto won't temporarily lose her housetraining badge every year

Can't we just lie on a couch and woofle about how being overly- domesticated has affected us as a species, the oppression of anthropomorphism and absent fathers......