Filed under Muttley

tears in rain

It is a period of civil war in the galaxy. A brave alliance of Resistance Packmaster-fighters has challenged the tyranny of lathi-charching ticky-tacky Twofeet who’ve started a pogrom to wipe out dogs. In my four unsettling winters in this forsaken corner of the galaxy in which Packmaster’s set down her chairs, this has been my … Continue reading

smells like… happiness!

*(Tales of Deliciousness!) Sweat. Blood. Grime. Boy, how I love Sundays! That’s when My Boy comes back from his game, gloriously sweaty, parts of him caked in mud and sometimes blood crusted over where the spurs ripped his skin. Such headying, adrenaline-charged deliciousness! I scarce know where to lick! Where to sniff! Armpits. Crotch. Socks. … Continue reading

5, 6, pick up sticks…

  … the bendy ones, a little gnarled, not entirely juiced-out, still with the bark on. In two-feet terms, picking up sticks could be debating fonts like the Packmaster does when she pretends screen-busyness: Bold, Italic, never regular. Or, an exercise in finding a friend – misshapen yet reassuring. I like my sticks thick like lamb shank bones. … Continue reading

X-FACTOR*

(*note to self: watch out for the cheels) Digging up the colourful alphabet rug my two-legged’s been toddling on, my ears pricked up to showdog standards to see how a crossroads… rather crossbones of a letter marked the spot: X. This alphabet that appears approachable from all sides and opens out to so many possibilities and … Continue reading

snip!*

* (A Tropical Misadventure – and why I haven’t been my social self) Those dastardly, two-footed, cretinous snakes (they do feed me though, so I’ll keep this child-friendly)! They’ve gone and stabbed me in the back – or, to be more precise, snipped me in the scrotum. I can’t believe they’d do this to me, … Continue reading