Master Craig has been cracking down on me a bit this week. It's all been a little sad.
I've been in trouble for digging a hole under the fence (or mostly around, since Master Craig has already concreted most of the fence line). I've been in trouble for doing a bit of cutting back of some of Master Craig's favourite plants. And then there was the dinner party incident - well, if his guests didn't want to be mauled, why did they bait me by coming out onto the verandah?
Well, back to happy things.... I decided to join the Cure email discussion list, since I haven't been reading too much about The Cure in the newspapers and magazines lately. I think that a lot of people didn't like their latest album or something - I've been in love with them since their "Shake Dog Shake" sensation appeared on their reasonably recent album - "The Top". Others would remember that I've been fond of their work for some time (see our 14 October 13972 diary note, where we referred to "The Baby Screams" off the Head on the Door album).
Anyway, the email discussion list has been considering people's dreams concerning members of the band and, although I was too embarrassed to email everyone, I've had a number of dreams about them. I think it may have resulted from the piccy of Master Craig with their lead singer (Robert Smith):
Well, I have this dream about Robert taking me on a long walk (by the way, he doesn't tug on my choker the way that Master Craig does). Whilst we're out walking, there is this group of cats (I think the group term for cats is a "raggle") who come up to us and start saying that Robert looks like a sissy because he wears bright red lipstick (I presume that more natural tones may be acceptable) and that his latest album really stank (and some of the more recent ones as well) and that he hasn't done anything worth listening to since one of his very early albums - "Faith" - and even that wasn't all that good). Anyway, the cats are all dressed in T-shirts with "Love Cats" and start snarling and look like they're going to attack. Robert is visibly shocked (and appears to even be afraid). BUT - Good Roger Dog is there and I tell Robert that all will be OK - I'll protect him.
At that point, the lead cat steps forward brandishing a flick knife....
Robert looks like he's about to pass out and says:
"Roge, help me!"
I step out to the main cat and say:
"That's not a knife, this is a knife."
At that point, I reach for my pocket and realise that I'm naked (which isn't that strange for a dog). I start to panic.
We then both get beaten up by the cats.
The cats then say:
"Why don't we kill them? Evan wouldn't want them to live...."
I then say:
"You don't mean Evan Dando of the Lemonheads, do you?"
They cautiously reply:
"Yes - what's it to you?"
I say:
"Well, I'm one of Evan's biggest fans - I even love his latest album that's been lambasted by the music press. What's more, my Master's son (Young Master Elliot) likes to babble that he sleeps "under the Evans", since he has a Lemonheads' poster above his cot."
Whilst we've been talking Robert has run away and, in short, I'm made an honourary member of "The Love Cats" gang. I change my name from "Roger Cool Dog" to "Roger Cool Cat".
I have absolutely no idea what it means.
Well, as for mail, Master Craig has certainly mucked things up - he's lost some and scrambled others - of course wandering around in the sun with a disk full of dog mail is bound to cause a massive loss of important dog data - so here's what we managed to get (if your mail is missing - and we have absolutely no idea who you are - please re-send it).
The first note comes from Dwight:
"Ronald, I think you got the strange message from Kirra for Elliot because my Master like yours makes me do all the typing. You seem to get it easy however because not only do I have to do all the work on the internet I also have to be "Security Officer" and bark at all of the delivery men etc. They have even put me on some mailing lists so I keep geting junk mail now. The only question is "what happened to my Citibank credit card that I applied for months ago. Regards Dezel Ps. do you think the problem with the credit card may be because citibank did not have a proper exchange rate for payment in bones. Do I have grounds to go the banking ombudsman."
Dezel, are you an idiot dog? Don't you realise that you're a dog and dogs aren't supposed to have credit cards? And what bank has ever had an exchange rate for bones? Moreover, every dog knows that you shouldn't share bones for innumerable reasons (not the least being that it's unsafe and downright stupid).
In addition, I subscribe to the maxim:
"Never a borrower nor lender dog be"
"Credit" just runs against the grain - sure Mexico and Brazil seem to be escaping their debt traps, but they still serve as examples of states where dogs HAVE BEEN mistreated largely as the result of adverse exchange rate fluctuations.
Anyway, back to mail - I'm mainly leaving the mailman alone nowadays (since the advent of email) I see him (or her in some cases) as largely a redundant figure of a past - it was what I call an evolutionary dead end. I say let the poor guys continue in their ignorance.... Now, what I concentrate on is barking whenever a new note pops up on the computer telling me that I have new mail - this is the insidious reincarnation of the poor ignorant mailman.
Back to the mail, Dwight realised that he'd called me "Ronald" (some sort of bizarre hamburger fetish):
"Roge, Sorry they had me doing so much typing I must have got the keys the wrong way arround. please forgive me I will be carefull to call you Roge or more formally Rogernald in future. As long as you have some food I will answer to anything, (especially chocolate or ice cream) They pronounce my name Diesel (like the fuel). They are forever trying to confuse me with the funny spelling. I also answer to Mr D often. Dezel"
Mr D come here! |
No, over here! |
Roll over Mr D! |
Play dead! |
No, down here! |
No, I mean down here Mr D! |
Master Craig has just told me that I'm a very bad bad dog and I must apologise to D w i g h t. Sorry, Mr D, that behaviour was unwarranted and I should not "flame" people on the web. I should be courteous and respect people's right to be different even if that makes them look a little silly.
Oh no, another reprimand, but this time by Samantha:
Dear Roger,
I would just like to tell you that you are being very insensitive to
Ellie about her fear of the garage. I also have a fear. I can not go
into the livingroom from the kitchen without backing in to the room. My
mistresses laughs at me but they just don't understand. A while ago I
was walking into the room and the big heating unit in the basement made
a loud RRROOGH noise. I turned around and the noise stopped. So I now
back into the room every time. Mistress Linda said I could win on the
TV show- America's Funniest Home Videos. They just don't understand.
Please try to understand Ellies fears. You may have your own some day.
Glad to hear Master Elliot is doing very well. Have you taught him any
tricks? I suggest that you start early so you can make sure he is on
your side. Sorry to hear about the flea baths. It is quickly becoming
flea season here. I hate to get a bath. I have been told that my home
page will be active in the next month.
Reguards,
Samantha.Before I answer Sam, I'll get my punishment out of the way:
Sam, you must be kidding! Ellie has a fear and it's every dog's right to make as much fun as possible at the expense of others. After all, it's character building to have one's creativity crushed out of.... ouch....
Master Craig
Take me to the next diary entry or show me the complete calendar!
I'd be very happy if you'd sign Master Craig's visitors' book before you leave (he won't create one for me).
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