The Blog of Pads

Let me start with the weather.  It's been RAGINGLY PISSY for months now.  I'm from Cyprus and we only have two seasons there - HOT and SHISHING HOT.  But here in England you have four seasons - PISSY-COLD, BLOODY-COLD, NOT-SO-COLD and RELATIVELY WARM.  When it's PISSY-COLD time, like now, the leaves all fall off the trees and make it impossible for humans to find one of my poos (but easy to accidentally stumble across another dog's); and it rains just often enough to maintain a permanent covering of dampness to everything including everyone's mood. This year, there have been extra layers of DRIZZLY SOGGY PISSINESS on top of the expected PERMAPISS, which is causing the man no end of irritation as he has been doing all my walks while my human mummy tries to recover from a slightly debilitating spell of seasonal lurgey.  He's clearly fed up with the machinations surrounding the whole walking duty: the need for him to change into a pair of muddy jeans that have re...

I've had some time on my hands, so I was doing some 'historical research' about the life of dogs in the past. According to one popular academic journal of the time, 'The Beano', back in the 1970s dogs used to bite postmen and be given bones.  Times really have changed and I can't work out if we are now more enlightened or just over-protective.  For one thing, postmen - you humans now call them 'postal workers' so as to be less gender-specific - never get chased or bitten by us dogs.  That's despite those twee little signs people put on their front doors that say 'Beware of the Dog'.  It seems like that used to mean 'Beware that the dog doesn't bite you' whereas these days it probably means 'Please be aware that we have a dog and you knocking on the door might trigger his anxiety'.  If I bark at the postman when he knocks, it's not because I'm anxious, it's because I want to chase him and bite his legs. Did ...