"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's." – Mark Twain, Letter to W D Howells, 4/2/1899

Archive for April, 2015

Rufus and the Fat Cat.


I like cats, but I couldn’t eat a whole one; only kidding.

The truth is, I can take them or leave them.

Some of my canine friends think I’m crazy. “Cats are evil. It’s our mission in life to destroy all cats.” It was Billy talking. He’s a real dog. I’ve seen him wee on a policeman. He got kicked in the balls, but he didn’t care. It was the principle of the thing.

The irony of this conversation occurred to me; he lives with a cat. A fat cat. A very fat cat. Very fluffy and very blue.

Her name is Vivian, and she rules the house.

She has sharp claws, but this is not how she does it.

She only has to look at you, and you want to go away and hide.

Cats are strange creatures; strange and powerful.


Polly the Yoga Dog.


It is a strange job for a dog, but every dog needs a job, and Polly’s job was to protect a shop and a house, all at the same time.

The shop was downstairs, and the house was upstairs, which was fun.

Polly loved running up and down stairs.

The shop existed to run Yoga classes.

Lots of pretty female humans twisting themselves into strange shapes.

‘Downward Dog’ was Polly’s favourite Yoga position. There wasn’t a lot for Polly to do, but she took her job seriously none the less.

The largest part of her job was being patted by customers.

Her presence made the customers feel good.

Some customers showed that they didn’t like dogs and Polly knew to stay away from them. She also knew that she had to wait until the classes were ended and then she was allowed to play. Living upstairs was fun.

Having work and home in the same place meant that she was never alone.

Dogs don’t like being separated from their pack.


The Adventures of Rufus: Boof.


I’ve only known Boof for a short time.

He was driving through our town, and his master stopped to have repairs done to his car, so I got to know him over the last couple of days.

You know how it is in a small coastal town, everyone knows everyone else, so a new face causes a bit of a stir.

Boof had a good story to tell.

Apparently, they were on the run.

To start with I didn’t know what that meant but I soon worked it out.

Boof had been living at a caravan park with a human who wanted someone to guard his caravan. Boof wasn’t sure what was stored in the caravan, but he was pretty sure that a lot of people wanted to steal it because he was constantly scaring away rough looking characters.

He even had to bite one or two of them.

It was against Boof’s nature to bite people, but he had a job to do.

His owner was a real bastard and treated Boof very badly. One day four humans tried to break into the caravan and Boof managed to drive off three of them, but one got in while he was busy and stole some stuff. Boof’s owner was very angry and beat Boof with an old shoe.

Boof tried to explain that there were four of them and that he had driven off three of them, but his owner didn’t listen.

He didn’t feed Boof that night, and he kicked over his water bowl so that Boof was very thirsty by the next morning.

If it hadn’t been for the bloke in one of the other caravans, Boof might have died of thirst. The human who brought him water seemed like a good person.

He sat with Boof and told him his story.

He was on the run from some dangerous people, and he needed to keep moving, or they would find him.

“They aren’t looking for a bloke with a dog. Maybe I’ll take you with me when I go. Would you like that boy?”

Boof said that he would like that very much, but he was not sure that the human understood him.

A few days later he saw the human driving away.

As he passed by Boof’s caravan, he stopped and said, “Do you want to come with me boy?”

Boof did the only thing a dog could do under the circumstances; he wagged his tail.

The human got out of his car and cut the chain that was imprisoning Boof.

Boof climbed into the passenger seat and did not look back as they drove away.

He said that they have been on the road for a long time and he likes the life of a traveller.

I like Boof, and I love listening to his stories, and I’m going to miss him when they go, but I will have fun thinking of all the adventures he might be having.


The Adventures of Rufus: Eric.


Eric is a guard dog with nothing to guard.

That’s not strictly correct.

Eric isn’t expected to guard anything, not anymore.

He had a good job. He kept thieves out of the auto junkyard at night. He was bloody good at it as well.

When Eric was on duty, no one got in. He was wise to all the tricks. He could smell meat that had been laced with sleeping pills. He picked the pills out and kept the meat for later. He had a big yard to patrol and it was common for young people and thieves to make a noise on one side of the yard while their friends climbed the fence way over on the other side. Eric was wise to this tactic.

How did Eric become so wise, I hear you ask? He was well-trained. When he started his job he was no more than a pup and the junkyard dog, named Killer, took him under his wing, so to speak, and taught him the business. Killer got old and one day he didn’t come when Eric barked for him. It was sad, but Killer died on the job, and what better way to go?

Eric looks like being denied such a glorious fate.

His owner sold the junkyard to a bunch of developers and now there are heaps of identical little houses where the junkyard once was. 

Eric sits in the backyard of his masters home and stares into space. He has lost the will to live but keeps on living anyway; if you can call that living.

I go around sometimes and try to cheer him up, but it only works for a short while. Sometimes we get into discussions about the old days and he tells these excellent stories about defending the junkyard in the dead of night. I love those stories and I love watching Eric tell them. For a few short moments he comes alive, then he remembers that it is all gone and his eyes grow dim.

It breaks my heart to see him so sad.

It’s times like these that I appreciate my life and all the adventures that lay before me.

I’m a lucky dog, and I know it.


The Adventures of Rufus: Percy.


Percy is small,white, skinny and constantly damp.

Normally, I wouldn’t hang around with such a dog, but he makes me laugh, and that is close to life’s most important thing.

He has one other characteristic that makes him stand out; his mistress is a little girl.

Normally, I steer clear of children.

The only nice thing I can think of to say about them is that they often have sticky fingers and they don’t mind if you lick them clean.

Apart from that, they are noisy, unpredictable and liable to pull your ears, for no reason at all.

But Percy doesn’t feel this way, so I tolerate his mistress.

I mentioned that Percy is constantly damp?

Well, this is because he and his mistress have a fatal attraction for water.

If it’s raining they are out in it.

If there is a puddle, they will find it.

If there is a sprinkler on within a five mile radius, they’ll be under it.

I don’t understand it at all, but it is not for me to know.

It makes them happy, and happy can be hard to find.


The Adventures of Rufus: Millicent.


Millicent wasn’t my girlfriend, or anything like that.

We’d had a brief fling a couple of summers back, but it was never going to go anywhere. We are too different.

I have responsibilities and she doesn’t give a biscuit about anything.

That’s a bit harsh; I should say that she is a free spirit, who is not attached to anyone or anything.

She can get away with it too.

She’s cute, and that will always get you through life. She has breakfast at Widow Wison’s house and dinner at Old Man Johnson’s. She is a dog so she always gives something in return, unlike cats who will pick your pocket and leave you bleeding on the side of the road ……. sorry, I got a bit carried away there. I still haven’t gotten over running into that big Tom Cat over at the junk yard.

Millicent’s favourite thing was to walk in the rain.

Most dogs have enough sense to get in out of the rain, but Millicent didn’t see it that way. Despite  the fact that dogs don’t like the sound of rain falling on the ground, Millicent would be out in it whenever she could.

The three chubby old ladies who live near to my mistress and I have the same attitude. Whenever it starts to pour they are out with their umbrellas jumping in puddles. Not unsurprisingly, Millicent gets on very well with these three ladies, and they often frolic together.

The interesting thing about dogs is that you rarely get two dogs who look at life the same way.

Every dog needs a job and Millicent’s job is to be Millicent, and I feel better just knowing that she is out there.