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12th November 2009
I told you in my last
blog that the terrible twins were going to be four on November 1st
and John and Daff were organising a party for them at the Patch (I can’t
remember their ever organising a party for me!).
Well, the day of the
party came, the gravy bones and human biscuits and buns were all loaded
into the car, then the rain came down, the wind blew a gale, and John
and Daff, who in my opinion, are far too soft when it comes to bad
weather, decided to cancel it.
Instead, Daff lit us a
nice log fire, and we spent the day playing musical easy chairs and
sofas, which was better than nothing, but it wasn’t quite like a real,
live party.
 Anyway, last Sunday was a
fine day, so the party was reinstated. At just after eleven o’clock,
Auntie Cath and Uncle Darren, with their little girl Rheanna, who is
five going on fifty, and their three ‘greys‘ arrived, bearing cream
cakes, doughnuts, custard tarts and some other parcels wrapped in shiny
paper. We dogs were all getting worried because they were a bit late and
we thought they weren’t going to turn up, which would have meant that
John and Daffers would have done some gardening instead, which is very
boring and also means I would have to stay in the back of the big car
all day as my poorly foot doesn’t like the gravel there.
We got to know their
dogs this summer and they are quite nice, really, even though they
didn’t come from Fen Bank and they are quite working class as they used
to race, unlike my pack, which has never done a day’s work in its
collective life. Fleck is big and black, though not quite as big as Mr.
Paddidog, with flecks (no, not really!), Vixter is also black but
smaller, a very vain dog who likes to wear perfume that he usually finds
somewhere in our field or on the river bank, and then there is Flo.
Flo is a little black
girl who is very bald in all the wrong places and I find her quite
embarrassing because you can see bits of her you’re not suppose to
see. What is even worse, Mr. Paddy has taken quite a shine to her and
they often go and sit together in his special triangle by the gate at
the Patch for hours (well, minutes) on end. They come to see us quite
often on a Sunday morning for a run (I always win) but this Sunday it
was special, because there was food involved.
We don’t often get
treats like cakes and grown up biscuits, but we assumed birthday parties
would be different.
Well, Daff made teas
and coffees and Auntie Cath spread the cakes and parcels on the wooden
table at the back of the Big Shed, and then the bombshell dropped.
The cakes were for the
grown-ups! Surely there would be something for us?
There was – there were
DENTASTIKS! Now, I ask you – have you ever been to a party where tubes
of Colgate’s or Arm and Hammer were on the menu? And to make matters
worse, Daff couldn’t find the big bag of gravy bones she had put in the
car the previous week when the party as cancelled, and all there was at
the Patch were a few assorted treats and doggy choc drops in the bottom
of a cracked biscuit barrel.
We quite like
Dentastiks really, but don’t you think on an occasion like a birthday
party you could be a bit naughty with your diet just for once?
After the cream cakes,
etc. (bah, humbug) and Dentastiks, we had some races in the field, and
then some more races, and then some more. We found something dead and
slimy and covered in maggots, which Vixter showed a great interest in
and which nearly made Daff sick as she doesn’t ‘do’ maggots. Flo tore
her dew claw and started to bleed, so we all went back to the remains of
the cakes and choc drops.
 By this time the twins
were getting overtired and wanted to go back to the bit of concrete
outside the Big Shed for a sleep in the sunshine. Mr. Paddy and Flo had
gone to his grass triangle by the gate for some ‘special time’; Vic had
wandered off looking for wildlife, Rheanna was looking for stones with
holes in them in the gravel, and the grownups were talking serious
stuff, so I got a bit niggled and made one or two threats sotto voce
(yes, I do know what that means) to Fleck and got told off, so the party
started to disintegrate after that.
Then Vic returned. He
had obviously found his source of personal fragrance and he smelt – well
– obvious. Daff accused Fleck of letting one go, Darren grabbed
Vic and sniffed his neck carefully before accusing him of rolling in
something bad, John said he didn’t know what all the fuss was about
because he couldn’t smell anything (he’s lost his sense of smell, so
that’s quite useful if we feel a bit windy or someone’s has an wee
accident on the carpet), and shortly after, all the guests went home. I
expect Vic had returned to the maggoty carcass – well, l he’s welcome to
it; anything like that would stain my lovely white fur.
I hear that they had
to keep all the car windows open all the way back and Vic needed an
immediate bath. Flo had to have her leg bandaged because her dew claw
was bleeding so badly. The terrible twins were so tired they
couldn’t eat their teas, so Sally and I cleared them up between us.
All in all, I think we
had a most successful party. I must get something organised for my
birthday – on April 1st................
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