He sent me away to see my friends.
And when I came home – it felt different – it was, it was empty.

I went looking for him, everywhere.
No -
not in his bed,
not in the garden
not in his pooh room
not on the sofa tapping into his silly blackbox, -he was gone

I was worried.
Who would give me my tumpy-tickles
who would chase me round and round the garden
who would sing me to sleep every night so tunelessly
who would make me cutie with a brush from tailtip to nosetip
who was going to be so generous with my crunchie-munchies all through the day?

I became thin with worry, and er, without my crunchie-munchies.
I counted days, I counted hours, I counted minutes and then forgot to count.
He was really gone -

Then
one day I came home
I got into the house and I knew
I knew he was back, I ran up the stairs
he was tapping into his taplop – I jumped on his chest, and licked his scruffy face.

He is back, my crunchie-munchie man, the littleindian
a dog’s best friend.

A poem left for me by a new friend – Nanda

The hungry pet is back…
Give me biscuits and more of that
And next time you leave me like this
I’ll go away for sure and roam in street
I warn you master better take care.

Ruffdogsborder terrierfriendspets

They all sang happy bathday.

Did any of you know of a special day for doggies to have a bath!! And then be happy!!!
I do not like baths, I may take a dip in a muddy puddle, once in a while.
But not baths, and smelling clean and fresh.

I am ruff,
a tuff scruff
if you have ever seen one, … how could I be happy?

And they said I was two!
I am not.
I looked and I looked
but I couldn’t find the other me.

I looked at my refreclection on the glass door,
one head,
four paws,
one hungry tummy,
and well, my tail does wag nineteen to the dozen
what can a dog do when given crunchie munchies, I ask you.

I am still just one self, the only Ruff.

Everybody gave me a pat
and they gave me lots of crunchie munchies,
I didn’t even have to be good. I wasn’t complaining.

It was a day special of some sort.
They said next year
I would be three…

And after all that singing, they forgot to give me the bath.

Ruffy boy is now two years old.

I was just having a nose around on the beach, like a dog has to.
Picking up smells only a dog can.

And bravely fighting the large pebbles till they rolled off exhausted.

Sniffing sniffing.

A doggie smell there, a puppy smell here.
A fishy smell here, a crabby smell there.

A clump of seaweed.
Fish, I smelt fish. I put my nose in, into the clump, and
it hurt, it hurt. I yelped and yelped, the weed was stuck to my mouth.

I ran to my mummy, and she found something on my lip that was tied to the weed.
She bit the string off with her teeth, just like a dog would do,
and tried to take the thing off my lip, but it hurt.

I ran home with her.
And she took me to the dog doctors.
They tried to give me an jinsecktion on my lip but it hurt and hurt.

So the doctor took me to another room and made me breathe some funny air.
It made me giggly, but I was too much in hurt, and I think I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the thing on my lip was gone.
I felt a lot better and I came home and sat on my chair.

I couldn’t have my afterwalk crunchie munchies, I had antiboytics.
Littleindian didn’t help me today, I don’t know where he went.
He left when night was becoming day, before my food time.
So mummy looked after me, she was upset and crying.

I heard it is called a barbie hoook to catch fish, that someone had left behind.
So I beg all fish catching people, please, please, please
don’t leave hoooky things on the beach,

dogs hurt too.

Marcus – said in Babylon 5

“I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair.
Then I thought, wouldn’t it be much worse if life were fair, and all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them?
So, now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the universe.”

he never had any shoes, yet happily runs around in his bare feet,
walking on dirt and dust and mud, never hurt by the cold pavements

he never can lift a cup or a bowl, he struggles to grasp, to hold,
he gives up to grip with his teeth; he eats on the floor for
he is unable to sit at a table

he never learnt to get his own food,
he never complains of hunger or thirst
he will eat only if I give him food, if I forget, he will suffer the pain in silence,

if I give him a little food, he will pick it up and take it away
to hide somewhere to eat the tiny morsel,
so little yet so precious that he is scared to lose
perhaps a distant memory of losing out to someone bigger or stronger or less generous

he sits beside me, looking at my laptop screen,
I can see his head move, following the movement of the cursor,
that is all he can see, the words and the pictures means
nothing
he will never know
the wonders of electronics, the computer, the internet,

the world around us will perhaps never mean the same to him,
the vastness of the universe
the stars at night, the sky, the sun and the moon,
the wind and the rain, the seasons, the falling leaves
just an existence of living by the minute, no past no future

so many times,
he will look at me, about to say something, wanting to say something,
perhaps a few words forming in his tiny mind, trying so desperately to articulate,
he speaks with his eyes, his words remain unspoken, maybe soon forgotten
only if I knew what goes on in that little mind,

I have everything I want, and certainly more than I need
and so I will take it all for granted, my little companion
will never be able to share with me
my world, my reality

Sorry Ruffyboy. Life is unfair.

Rufflifethoughtshumanity

twenty minutes
later the linen finally got changed.
twenty minutes
interrupted by a very helpful assistent,
whose sole intention was to grab it all and make a cosy bed for himself.

this is a one who just hates
being covered over by anything and will
usually fight himself free within two shakes of his tail.

so he was left to enjoy,
his proudly acquired
possessions.

with a sheet
thrown over him
and tucked for good measure,
expecting him to toss it aside
and forgotten in seconds.

“fustle rustle rustle rustle rustle”
( “it will not be so easy”) muttered he to himself…

fifteen minutes later
he was found enjoying a siesta!!

dogspetsfriendslifeRuff

Dogs
were once free, in the spirits
of the wolves, roaming and hunting.

Domesticated
around the 10,000s BC.
by our hunter-gatherer ancestors
with whom they shared their habitat
and may have hunted the same prey for food.

Was it the promise of food
that first made them let a man
to put a collar around their necks?
The eternal symbol of bondage and slavery?

When they strain at their leash,
do they resent or regret their lost freedom?

Ruff,
my blogging companion,
when he sits on my chest,
with his paws on either side of my neck,
hugging, and licking my face in a friendly earnest
I cannot but help recognise him as my friend, then I am no master.

Everynight, when he goes to sleep,
safe inside the house, I will take his collar off.
At least, I know, in his sleep, in his dreams, he will be free.

Last night, I was late,
when I went to check him
he was fast asleep on the sofa.
Didn’t move a whisker when I sat next to him, or gave him a pat.

I slipped his collar off,
in his deep sleep did he feel his freedom?
For as I took off the collar, without moving in his sleep,
his tail gently thumped on the sofa, twice and then a once
and then he was asleep again, dreaming of running free and wild again,…perhaps.

Does he put a cost to his freedom? Must be priceless.

dogspetsfreedom lifeRuff

“Hi
I am ‘Ruff’.

I go
bloglogging with little indian.

I am scruffy,
but do I look bothered”?

My blogging companion, turns one today.
We are both equally scruffy, but we don’t mind.

Ruffdogsborder terrierfriendspets