A Prolonged Pissy Spell and Turkey

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 reached a 1:3 denim to mud ratio; the anxious initial wipe down of my legs and tummy at the front door after we get back; the immediate second, prolonged wipe down and dry, inside the house afterwards; and the brushing off of dried mud from my undercarriage an hour later after I have done a tour of the house, letting clagnets flake off on carpets and tiled floors everywhere.  So, he's not great company on these walks as you can imagine.

Today, human mummy suggested that I wear my waterproof onesie in order to avoid all that rigmarole.  I didn't like this.  It's not very flexible, so movement is limited and I made a point of looking deadpan at her, as I walked with exaggerated difficulty around the hall.  The thick plastic covers my body and legs with holes for head, tail and privates.  As practical as it is having it cut around my bum and willy, I still feel self-consciously like a dancer in a Frankie Goes to Hollywood video.  Especially as my human mummy has me groomed around that area.  I know it's all the rage with you humans, including even some (dodgy) male humans these days, but I like the warm feel of hair near my winkle.  Us dogs are a bit 1970s when it comes to that.

Anyway, I wasn't liking this gimpy spacesuit they made me wear, so I protested by refusing to run anywhere and I even put on a limp.  (I did a dirty protest as well, but as I do a dirty whatsit every walk anyway, the man didn't interpret it as a protest.)  After we'd been out and about for 10 minutes or so, he relented and removed the ridiculous outfit (mine not his).  I ran off with glee and enjoyed the fact that the mud was 2 inches deep and my legs 1 inch high.

I wasn't bothered about the lack of other dogs on the walk either.  Lots of owners clearly can't be arsed to walk their dogs in the rain.  The few that were around today had leads on.  The anti-socials.  Dogs with ASBOs.  The man always tells me to keep clear or puts my lead on until we get past these knuckleheads.  The only other off-lead dog today was one of those clumsy over-sized puppies, who don't know their own strength and bound about knocking into everyone and everything like ping pong balls in a tumble drier, only heavier and more stupid.  The undignified oaf lolloping about today was called TURKEY.  His name was actually that.  He must have those parents who don't believe in assigning a gender or in this case even a species to their precious baby.  I mean, by all means, identify as another animal if you want, but biologically-speaking, this animal was much more dog than turkey.  They must have got him for Christmas.

Which brings me to my final musing.  With the festive season approaching, don't forget the old doctrine:  Turkey is for Christmas and not for life.  (Shit, that poor dog...)

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