By: pixbyshumbles

Jul 04 2012

Category: July 2012

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Focal Length:21mm
Shutter:1/0 sec
Camera:Canon EOS 600D

Ridgebacks don’t like to be excluded from family adventures.

They show this in a myriad of ways. Like most dogs, they’ll glare and grumble at the perpetrator but these hounds take it to a whole other level: literally turning their back on the offender for the perceived slight. This can range from anything as inoccuous as not proferring a chewie as you leave the house to the more serious going-on-holiday-and-leaving-them-with-the-parentals. For that you can expect an excited welcome when you collect them from their lodging (they like to save face by pretending to outsiders that all is well and that they are not in actual fact grudge-bearing grumps).

Once you turn the key in the ignition, it starts.

The huffing from the back seat.

And, later on, the rolling of the eyes when you speak to them as they sit, back firmly turned, on their favourite chair.

The Huff. (No, not the ‘actor’ from Baywatch) It can go on for days depending on the level of misdemeanour.

Another favourite trick to really put you in your place is to cause household disarray. This might come in the form of ripping apart beds, important post, casette tapes (many years ago) or shoes. In our house, however, it can take a far more serious tack. The Flatpack is able to make herself sick to plead her case for a walk. She’ll get off her chair, stare at me for a moment or two and, if I don’t take the bait, starts retching up whatever she’s eaten 12 hours previously. Nice.

Another case in point: my return from Galway.

I rolled up to parental HQ last night from my two day stint at the Volvo Ocean Race and was greeted by an extremely happy Big Brown Bow-Wow and an ecstatic Flatpack. All was well …

… in fairness I should have foreseen what was coming as Sgt P. did mention the small matter of a squitty stomach. It appears that the Big Brown Bow-Wow has caught some class of tummy bug. The spewing apparently started sometime yesterday and continued into the night.

The unfortunate Brazilian got up in the early hours and happened upon a river of shit running through the sitting room. Being the rather marvellous man that he is, he dealt with it toute seule and only waited till he came back to bed to tell me about it. I ventured out of our bedroom and … oh wow, the stench.

For it is a stench really. I think only Vikings might have smelled like this.

I’ve bleached everywhere. Everything. The floors, the walls (there was some splashing – thank goodness we hadn’t repainted that room yet), the skirting boards, the dog bed. I even washed the invalid himself.

And yet … it’s still there. The smell. Oh man, the smell.

I have learned my lesson: I will never leave home dog-less again.


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