Woof Woofington

Buzz! Sony’s new playstation game could be cited in the divorce courts…

Incredible but true, yes, a humble interactive music quiz, namely Buzz, could be cited in divorce courts across the land.

How do I know this? Because having seen the mistress in action tonight with her other half (whom I am still trying to ignore), I can see just a single outcome and it will, I predict, end in tears.

Buzz looks like the ideal party game and should, I think, remain that. Forget playing as a couple, particularly if one if you is competitive or just a bad loser. The mistress is both but so is her other half.

Catastrophe! And that is not a word I use lightly.

The game started off being friendly enough; the mistress knows nothing about playstations (she has played with HIM before but it’s always ended badly so I think she thought for the sake of the relationship….) so she was, in a way, dependent upon her opponent showing her the ropes. Only he couldn’t because, or so he claimed, he didn’t know how to play it either. He was a Buzz virgin so they could “learn together”.

At the end of the first game (several different rounds, including fastest finger first!), the mistress got beaten by just 50 points so she felt her score was fairly respectable. Come the second round it has jumped up to ….a defeat of 1500. By the third game, she was trounced; the mistress trailed behind by some … 3,000 points. After the trouncing, came..the flouncing and she marched off, calling him “dishonest” and “playing me for a fool”. Well, I could have told her THAT!

In fact, they both got so agitated that I got agitated and started barking but they told me to “Be quiet and go to bed”! I ask you!

It’s just like exam time when all those people (so I am told - I have never sat any exams) pretend to know nothing and then get straight A’s. You know the type. The mistress accused him of behaving in exactly the same way.

The mistress has calmed down now but they are seeing some equally competitive friends tomorrow; they also hate to lose – yes, all of them. If the friendships remain intact, it will be a miracle but, chances are, it will be a right dog’s dinner.

Woof Woof

The Tweenies

Yes, I know, the tweenies is that strange phenomenon between childhood and teenagehood when you are no longer a child but not yet a teenager. Advertisers love you. The BBC devotes a whole programme to you. Blah blah blah.

But to me, tweenies means something else altogether.

What do you call those few days between Christmas and New Year? Some of you may be working, some of you may be away for the whole festive break while some of you may be changing location, like the mistress, and returning to your urban life for the New Year. What do you call that time in between? Why the tweenies, of course!

So you can ask your colleagues, friends and families, where were you for Christmas? And New Year? And what about the tweenies?

Anyway, we have returned to the big smoke that is London after our Christmas hols. Apparently, we’ve missed most of the good sales so the tweenies are not quite the bargain fest that the mistress expected. We were too late so you can imagine the cursing happening in our home!

What were your Christmas highlights? Here are just a few:

Avian flu – you’ve all forgotten Avian flu as you tucked into turkey, goose, duck, chicken, partridge, pheasant, basically, anything that flies in this neck of the woods. And what about.. the Turducken, yes, just when you thought you would have to go to a medieval banquet to sample the delights of birds stuffed inside bigger birds, you get the so-called Turducken.

Apparently, it's all the rage this year; yes, in London! Not anywhere else, I can assure you. Wouldn't that have been a Christmas meal par-excellence for the tenacious dog to pinch off the table, just before the family sits down! The London-turned-Dorset chef, Hugh something, something, made it on one of his programmes and I think one of those media types thought, hey, let's start a trend. Question is; will Tesco be doing a value range Turducken next year? I've told the mistress, one bird just isn't enough anymore.

Seeing the mistress happy. She was given the pink bedroom at the end of the house and as she lay there, reading magazines and having tea brought to her room, with me lying on the bed next to her, she declared herself to be "utterly in Heaven". And yes, she did gaze - adoringly - at me! I did think, result, I WILL get a fat Christmas present after all.

Long country walks - even on Boxing Day with the guns going off. Yes, hunting may be banned but shooting is alive and well. They were shooting all day. Luckily, being a sophisticated urban sort of girl, I am not gun shy but I would think you could be easily spooked. Talking of hunting, I see that it has enjoyed a renaissance. Err, is anyone really surprised? From a dog’s perspective, I don't have a problem with it; you get to live with a great bunch of guys together, you run out together, free to roam wherever you like and your owners don't give a toss for the law.

What's the alternative for a lot of dogs? Locked up on your own all day while your master or mistress goes to work, walked on a lead so you can’t go very far, in parks full of restrictions, and generally made to fit in with them. If they've had a night on the town, you can forget your walk the next day! It’s a no brainer!

The British Government has been made to look very foolish indeed about its hunting legislation and people in the countryside feel very strongly about this issue. Personally, if I were trying to win the animal lover’s vote, I would have sorted out intensive farming. That’s far worse! And there’s an alternative; the mistress watched Jimmy’s Farm on TV. He’s a mate of the super chef, Jamie Oliver and he has proved just what free-range living is all about. His pigs have a great life, running around, causing mayhem. I bet his dogs have a ball, too!

Sadly, not such a great life for the cloned dog, Snuppy. Or is it cloned, after all? It seems the world-famous DNA scientist was a fake all along. As was the dog. I think we know what they’ll be doing to poor Snuppy, in the name of science, to prove or disprove the expert’s credentials.

The mistress’ other half, yes, she does have one, although I try to ignore him, keeps threatening me with a trip to Korea if I don’t behave. What can you say? German Shepherd’s Pie, anyone? Pug Pizza? Collie Curry? Or how about Dalmatian Bread Pudding; at least it’s got spots.

Woof Woof

Merry Woofmas!

So, at last, I am off on my hols to the countryside, which is where every dog deserves to be at this time of year. In my humble opinion, of course.

Did I mention that I am on a very strict regime? I’m sorry to raise the thorny issue of diets but even we dogs have to be careful about putting on those excess pounds. A girl must watch what she eats if she is to retain her shapely figure.

I see that Oakley, a rather handsome Golden Retriever, has been crowned PDSA Pet Fit Camp Champ. What a mouthful! In more ways than one! According to London’s Metro, it seems Oakley had to swap his rich tea biscuits and sedentary routine for a regime of long walks.

But what is he eating now? That’s what I want to know. The mistress has put me on the really serious stuff – pellets! I ask you! I used to have bonios, mini chops, bacon snacks, salmon burgers, shapes, markies – you name it, I ate it. Now I don’t even get a whiff of a snack before the morning walk. How would you fancy being put through your paces round the park without anything inside you? It’s no fun, mark my words. If I’m lucky, I get fresh fruit. The mistress has hot water and lemon so that she can “detox” first thing. Really!

But I do have a serious message; don’t overindulge during the festivities! I learnt my lesson the hard way. Personally, I blame the diet; it’s far too strict and I get hungry so I get my snacks where I can find them, which, to be honest is on the street. I hear even Giles Coren, Gordon Ramsay’s sidekick on TV, has tried this free food from the street malarkey (or bins, more realistically).

Anyway, I overindulged – at least I waited until the Christmas party season was well underway – and the mistress had to rush me to the vet. Twice. She wasn’t happy; in fact, she cried quite a lot. Honestly! But in the meantime, there’s been a very nasty consequence; the mistress has threatened to send my Christmas present back because “there’s no more cash in the bank”! By the time she paid for my brief stay at the vets, which would have equalled a night at Claridges – or so she claims (!), she said there was no money for special gifts this year. So, everyone, you’ve been warned. She who overindulges, does not get the big fat present under the tree.

Wherever you are spending the festive season, I wish you well.

Woof Woof

Something in the air?

Let it not be said that I don’t pick up my fair share of admiring glances and passing comments – invariably positive – when the mistress and I are out and about! Yes, I can often be the catalyst for a smile, come rain or shine.

But tonight’s walk just seemed to be questions, questions, questions. And love! Several people stopped the mistress to ask her all about..me!

I don’t mind.

It was quite gratifying for a Monday evening; people are out and about doing their Christmas shopping and maybe they are mellowing as the Christmas countdown continues.

London’s streets are emptying (with the exception, I imagine, of Oxford Street), particularly as most schools have now broken up for the holidays. But there are still many tourists and foreigners who will be spending their Christmas here in the capital.

One such couple – not from the UK – begged the mistress to let them stroke and pet me! Yes, feel free; I love all that affection and attention.

Anyway, it made us think; what about those poor people – far from home – who may be missing their own precious pooches and want some love that only we dogs know how to give?

Well, one thing they could do is volunteer at somewhere like Battersea Dogs Home; you could be taking various hounds out for a walk in the park nearby and generally getting a dog fix for free while helping a very good cause, too.

So, if something is in the air that is making mankind more generous, let’s have more weeks like this.

Do the right thing. You know you want to.

Woof Woof

A dog is for life…or is it?

Yes, it’s that time of year again when thoughts turn to the ideal Christmas presents. With less than a week to go before the big day, some of you may be thinking of some last-minute purchases.

The Dogs Trust, formerly National Canine Defence League, rightly warns us, quite sternly, that a dog is for life, not just for Christmas. Try telling that to Paris Hilton, just nominated as the planet’s worst pet owner!

But onto the important things - gifts; if you haven’t come up trumps in the present division, I might have some suggestions:

• I-dog; apparently Hasbro has produced a dog that dances, likes being petted and generally responds to you humans once it is hooked up to your i-pod. I can see it being an amusing gimmick for a while but for life? No chance!

• Dogopoly – a great take on everyone’s favourite!

• Bone Shaped Cake Pan – for all those doggy tea parties!

And my favourite..

• WOOF! Dog Lover's Doormat.

But it could be that the woofer’s days are numbered; the new pet of choice is…a reindeer. A north London builder, Mr Elliott keeps six at home and regularly takes them out for walks in his local park.

More alarmingly, according to Saturday’s Daily Telegraph:

“Many Britons are following suit, paying £3,500 for a pair of reindeer and renting them out for festive events at up to £1,000 an hour.”

Oh no! And apparently, they are low maintenance – they can be left to do their own thing in the garden.

I guess it beats getting a cat!

Woof Woof

We’re not singing anymore, Adam Crozier

So today is the last day – officially – for second class post ie it’s the last day you’ve got any chance of your friends and family receiving the cards you send them this side of Christmas. If I were you I’d send everything first class to ensure Crozier’s bonus is a fat one this yuletide.

Yes, not only is the service worse than ever – yes it is, yes it is – postage is going to cost more. A lot more. We’re talking more than double the rate of inflation.

As the trusted guardian of my mistress’s home and therefore the supposed enemy of any post person (we have men and women dropping mail at our home), I tend to scrutinize just who the Royal Mail’s ambassador is in our neighbourhood.

This year we have had at least 10 different people. Just when you get to know them, they disappear. Actually, our local sorting office was the subject of a Channel Four expose so you’d think they’d be working extra hard to contradict the shocking findings. And they were shocking, weren’t they?

But no. Last week the post woman turned up carrying our post in a plastic bag – yes, the same sort of carrier bag the mistress takes out with her when we go to the park. I think you know what I am saying. Other neighbours have recorded delivery parcels and packages delivered…elsewhere. We’re lucky; this is a tight knit community so we all know what’s what. And a lot of them work from home so they have plenty of time to discuss the failings of the Post Office. Thank goodness for email!!

And if you try to reason with the postmen, they just get shirty. A bit like the cyclists who don’t stop at traffic lights but that’s a whole other story altogether.

So, if you’re listening or reading, Adam Crozier (ex-FA), all I can say is someone needs to give you a red card sharpish, cos we’re not singing anymore.

Woof Woof

Santa Paws is coming to Town

I have it on very good authority that there are going to be some extremely lucky pets out there during the festive season. And I am guessing that this will include..me!

I read that some owners will be lavishing at least £1,000 on their pampered pets this yuletide. Yes, you read it right, a grand on things like diamond-studded collars (yes, please), mahogany beds (the quilted duvet bed is so passé!) and a doggy puffa jacket, whatever that is. I think it might be for the chavs.

I am getting quite excited, wondering what Santa Paws will be bringing me this holiday season.

It’s highly likely to be something big or expensive because the mistress has been decluttering! Oh yes. To make way for…my present, I think!

Her best friends have been making a fortune on eBay and Amazon, by flogging their old stuff that they don’t want anymore. So, perhaps to demonstrate her own entrepreneurial spirit and eagerness to create more space at home, she decided that she too would sell stuff she didn’t need, mainly books, CDs and the odd talking book on tape. Personally, I would have kept the talking books but apparently that’s old technology now.

And then the ranting started. First it was just at the screen. “One pence. Just one penny for a hardback book? Surely that can’t be right. And just 12 p for a double cassette…” She then proceeded to tell anyone who would listen that people just don’t know the value of things anymore…

So, she has done the decent thing, and donated everything to charity. Quite right. If your stuff is selling for under a pound via a website, think again and give it to your favourite cause instead. To give…is...to receive!

I figure by giving her undivided love and attention, she will be giving me something extra special this year! After all, diamonds really are a girl’s best friend.

Woof Woof

FCUK DOESN'T GIVE A F**K. Allegedly.

Picture the scene. You and your master nip out for a cheeky beer (him, not you - you're teetotal and stick to the mineral water). As it's a nice day, he leaves you outside with some chums while he gets the drinks in.

When he returns, you've been "borrowed" for a photo shoot for the famous fashion house.

After all you're a handsome brute (Boxer, actually) and you catch the ladies' eyes, if you know what I mean!

Cool, or what.

Only it isn't. Those cheeky snappers from the ad agency take your master's details - indicating he'll get paid - and he thinks you're quids in. Only you're not. Apparently.

FCUK doesn't cough up so what do you do? Your master, bless him, is only trying to get a fair wage for a fair day's work. Well, you did the work, to be honest.

So now he has to threaten legal action and has gone to the papers. All fairness to him; he may be retired but he knows how get a dog some top PR. Three quarters of a page in tonight's Standard. How much would that cost in advertising space?!?!?!

FCUK isn't budging, according to the report. They argue the pooch, Dempsey, was borrowed in good faith and therefore doesn't merit a fee. And certainly not now his master has gone public.

Well, I say, don't worry. This is easily resolved. The master needs to get his dog an agent. And fast. Soon Dempsey will be gracing the nation's TV sofas - GMTV, This Morning, Richard and Judy, Paul O'Grady (if Dempsey gets on with the other dogs). Maybe even Davina's new show when it airs. She likes dogs, after all. Yes, I see it all now...forget Lassie, the sequel next year, everyone will be going to see Dempsey - Diary of a Model in the cut throat world of Fashion instead. Hollywood here we come.

FCUK can do the decent thing too and donate a wadge of cash to a dogs' home for Christmas. Then they'll get some positive PR and it will be win:win all round.

Yes, Dempsey, who needs Makepeace? Not you. That's for sure! You and your master will be laughing all the way to the bank.

Woof Woof

Rip!

While London sits under a black cloud, we send love and positive thoughts to all the animals caught up in the Hemel Hempstead inferno.

In the meantime, over in west London, I happened to walk past Strip, an upmarket waxing parlour.

In the window I noticed they had ceramic dog biscuit jars and beautiful dog bowls for sale.

Why, I wondered, is a wax joint flogging dog stuff? Surely people don't bring their pooches there for some...defuzzing?! I know some celebrities like to carry their pets everywhere but that's taking things too far! Ouch!

Maybe they should rename the shop, Bitch in the House. After all, round the corner is Bitch in Slacks. An odd name for a shop, I thought. Come on, think about it; how many girl dogs do YOU know sporting this season's pants?!

Woof Woof

God's Rottweiler

God’s Rottweiler is.. a cat man.

Still no news from the Notting Hill set. We have yet to find out if Dave is a cat or dog man. In the meantime, I’ve found out that the new Pope had two cats, which he couldn’t take into the papal apartments. It’s a pet-free zone.

Not sure what I think about that; it’s not as if the Church is anti-animals. Look at St.Francis, patron saint of animals. A more Christian and godlier man, you’d be hard-pressed to find.

Maybe we should start a campaign; let the Pope have his pets. Let’s call it Pets for the Pope… I’m sure I don’t need to repeat all the stats and science that says having a pet in your life is a good thing. Maybe that’s what John Paul needed in those final years; a companion, who is also one of God’s creations.

Actually, as it’s Sunday, I shall use one of my favourite phrases, dog spelt backwards equals…yep, you’ve got it!

Woof Woof