Mr Scruff

Had a sleep over at Chappers’ house the other night as Blonde had too much to drink and she couldn’t drive my motor back home.


One of Chappers mates stayed over too. She’s one of them poodle things, proper white and curly and right yappy. So we all go down the boozer, me, Chappers’ and Lola get on the water, Blonde and her mate drink some water that looks like wee, yellow looking stuff. Horrid smelling and it makes them talk fast and walk funny.


Back at home all five of us got into bed for our sleep over and Lola would not stop yapping. Blonde was really tired and none of us slept a wink.


Next day, I could not believe my eyes - yappy face has a guns n’ roses style dog bowl. Would you believe it, I’ve met cats who are more rock n’ roll than her, and that’s not rock n’ roll at all.


Being farmed off to the dog sitter for the weekend - Blonde is off to some festival with a man from Holland, or House of Holland, oh I don’t know, but there will be tears and old mutt face here will have to do the mopping up come Monday!


Woof x

Cannot believe the Blonde, trotted off to some boot camp or something and left me with the Grandparents - AKA The Boys mum n ‘ dad. They live in Streatham – hello Mr Rottweiler, Hello Mr Staffordshire Bull Terrier, lovely weather. They are proper geezers down there, I was a bit scared and I iz RESCUE! Anyway, Blonde was chatting on about her age and her ass and that Moo Moo person again and something to do with not fitting into any of her clothes.

The grandparents don’t have a computer so I couldn’t update my blog, which annoyed me. And they wouldn’t let me go out on my own to the internet caff – something to do with them Staffies. The Boy’s dad is a vicar and so I ran around that church like a mad dog – I loved it. Smelly old thing that church with shiny wooden floors. The GP’s had a bible class the other night round at their house and I got soooo over excited at the door bell ringing, the cake, the patts and kisses and fussing that I was sent to bed. Actually, I heard the GP’s say ‘let’s pretend it’s bed time and turn the lights out so he calms down’. Calm down???! Ain’t being funny, but there is cake and cuddles involved here and I want some!

Anyway, Blonde came to pick me up six days later muttering something about losing seven pounds. Annoying that I bet, losing seven pounds, I know my dog food costs at least a tenner, not to mention the treats. Hope she finds it, I like them organic crispy snacks she gets.


Now I draw the line at dog outfits. I am not walking around west London in a camouflage hooded parka. I am not. I will be set upon by poodles and laughed at by toy breeds. No way. Blonde took me to have my nails clipped, I did not like that let me tell you, although I did get a ton of snacks for being good. Anyway, this new parlour sells dog clothes. It’s so wrong. I practically scaled the bleedin walls when Blonde tried to get that parka on me… Noooooo way. I do like my new lead though, apparently it’s hand made, Blonde said it looked just like Ermes or summit. If it’s good enough for that Ermes bloke, it’s good enough for me.


Woof x

A mate told me about this the other day:

Excerpts from a dog’s diary..

8:00 am - Dog food!  My favourite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride!  My favourite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park!  My favourite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted!  My favourite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch!  My favourite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail!  My favourite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones!  My favourite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball!  My favourite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow!  Watched TV with the people!  My favourite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed!  My favourite thing!

Excerpts from a Cat’s Diary…

Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of.  However they merely made condescending comments about what a ‘good little hunter’ I am.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight.  I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.  However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of ‘allergies.’  I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking.  I must try this again tomorrow — but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return.  He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant.  I observe him communicating with the guards regularly.  I am certain that he
reports my every move.  My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now………

You would not believe what the Blonde did the other day. She was in a total flap, a flap like I’ve never seen her before, what you would call a “full on flap” just in case I ever need to refer to this sort of flap again. Anyway, during this full on flap – which involved a pair of Gladiator sandals or something, she lost her car keys and we were just about to go to Primrose Hill for a walk to meet my BFF Chaplin. Chaplin (Chappers I call him), is a pedigree King Charles spaniel from Alabama, he’s proper aristo, he looks like he’s wearing a long black wig – if he weren’t my BFF I’d probably think he was a right nonce. If he were a girl we’d look like something out of the film Lady and the Tramp, me being the tramp, some bitches like that look I’ll have you know…

Anyway, back to this flap. So Blonde starts crying saying life is so unfair and how was she gonna get to Primrose Hill now? She’s determined the Blonde, and after a chat with BFF’s mum we were off – I kid you not – off to walk to Primrose Hill. I live in Ladbroke Grove… You get the picture, it’s a full on six mile walk. By the time we get to Willesden we’re both puffed out, luckily she’s packed me a bowl and a bottle of water and some lovely snacks, she loves the organic ones, I’m fine with bog standard chews but she don’t go in for all that. Blonde was hysterical by now as 6 big black cabs had refused to take us, something to do with me being with her, but I didn’t take offence.

Did I mention that we were both wearing my new lead! It’s a hand made job from the mutt parlour I get my nails done at, I clocked that it matched Blonde’s bag and those flap causing Gladiator sandals (which after turning the house upside down, appeared in the bottom of my bed – oops). We were a vision in tan leather the pair of us – a vision!

Two hours later she was muttering something about feeling like a Fashion Forest Gump. Whatever that means – never been to a forest called Gump? She was losing her mind just when a cab pulled over and let us in!! Woof!!! The driver and Blonde had a chat about dogs. We skipped the Hill as we were so cream crackered and had a nice rest in a place called the Landsdowne and Blonde drank that red drink she likes.

The next day my legs were still sore – here is a picture of me in Blondes bed, I stayed like that for hours…….

Hi, I’m Mr Scruff, i’m a Jack Russell / mongrel cross breed and this is my new Dog Blog….

LET’S START AT THE START…

I obviously appreciate everything that Blonde girl (her who walks with me at the end of my lead), has done for me, she did take me out of the rescue home after all. Bless her. She came in wearing a pair of black woollen trousers by some bird called Meow Meow (she often wears this Meow Meow persons clothes and they don’t seem to mind), Anyway, in she pops, all emotional and teary to choose herself a baby replacement (I overheard one of the part time cat workers say that about her, so catty them cat people) - and that’s where yours truly comes in, a brand new black and white furry baby! They say the dog chooses you, I aint being funny right, but I’ve been through the wars, ended up in a council pound in Ireland, was shoved in a bleedin’ van with a load of other mutts by the people that ran the home where Blonde Girl showed up, so why would I then want to be re-homed with a bunch of lunatic screaming kids trying to pull my tail off? Every time a family with young kids came in I just turned my back and pretended I hadn’t seen them. That’s it - go for the soppy chocolate Labrador. Jog on. Anyway, back to Blonde Girls Meow Meow trousers, I nearly blew it when she came to pick me up on signing out day. I jumped up at her and covered her in white hair. Then The Boy shows up (we share a bed with him and he’s my dad but not Blonde Girls dad, she seems to like him though), he gets the right hump when I ran around his newly cleaned black golf. Alright, i had just had a bath and I was a bit stinky, and the white hair didn’t look so good but I was excited!

The Boy went off to watch the football and Blonde Girl took me to St Johns Wood pet shop where she kitted me out in a hand beaded collar and a matching lead for her. She bought me a huge pack of biscuits, a new bed, some chews… doggy heaven.