Mr Scruff

This is a pic of me when I was little!  It was taken the first day I came out of the home 3 years ago, I am much more handsome now. Woof x

The Blonde likes to go to Primrose Hill and pose around with me on the end of a lead, well she’s on the end of the lead really but I play along with her.  Thing is I’m a mongrel and a pretty scruffy one at that, there’s definitely a touch of the terrier in me but what the rest is, honestly gawd only knows but this is what makes me so intelligent innit and this is the way the doggy gods made me.  The Blonde and I woz in the boozer the other day, and we bumped into the bloke who tortures me, apparently it’s called ‘grooming’.  Oh ok. Perhaps that’s wot they should do to criminals then.  Maybe they should get their heads strapped into a leather harness and get shaved all over, in the name of ‘grooming’.  Maybe they should have a psycho with a chain saw cut their paws off! To make matters really bad, The Blond actually pays for this to happen to me! Shocking. If the rescue home knew about this, honestly I’d get rehoused in a second.  She buys me expensive organic treats afterwards so I’m trying to forgive her, through therapy, I’m sure I’ll find a way. Anyway, I’m sat on the floor in the boozer, sniffing around for scraps, The Blonde is a veggie so home cooking is duller than my labrador mate Malone, when I overheard the torture geezer saying he’s got some pedigree pups for sale.  The Blonde goes all gooey eyed and starts asking how old, what do they look like and all that.  Apparently they are a cross between a Beagle and a King Charles Cavalier and this nonce has called em Beagliers! She reckons she’s going to see them this Saturday, pah, over this pooches dead body she is.  I’ve got a masterplan, i’m digging a massive hole and hiding all the keys in there.  There’s no way I’m being replaced by a pedigree on Primrose Hill.  Is it coz I iz black and white? Woof x 

Was busy chewing on a bone earlier and usually nothing, not even that gorgeous little Pekinese down the park gets my attention away from chewing on a bone.   Until tonight that is; finally a dog in the Whitehouse!  After years of human rule, America has finally woken up and smelt the wet dog and voted in a canine! GRRRRRRREAT!

First thing I did was look up Bo Obama on Dog Book, it’s early days, he’s probably been too busy to get online so I penned this letter earlier today:

Dear Bo (Mr Bo Jangles?)

On behalf of all us British mutts, I wanted to welcome you into Whitehouse.  It’s been a long time coming, a mutt at the driving wheel so to speak.  What is it you plan to sort out first?  Clean up Iraq, get the boys home or pledge more money to rescue homes?  I do hope it’s the latter.  I’ve been walked three times a day since I’ve lived with the Blonde.  It was a right mad house that rescue home, full of total nutters, I was treated like a right old hobo (no pun intended Bo).  Anyway, I am no longer a dog of no fixed abode and I am one of the lucky ones.  Oh and what do you think about this minimum walk time?  One hour a day off lead?!!  The Blonde pays this lovely girl to take me out every lunchtime, I’m not complaining but there are some dogs out there that don’t get a full hour; there should be laws about that!  Rest assured Bo, you get my vote.  Are you on Twitter?  Maybe we should set up Bark!  I know, you’re howling, I’m funny.

See ya later alligator

Woof x p.s hear you’re named after a cat, you should keep that quiet.