Mum bought this book to try and learn stuff so that one day folk might think she’s intelligent. It’s not worked, she’s in a right tizz. Uncle Hugh’s in Switzerland so I’m having to put up with her all by myself and she was almost CRYING this morning after reading it. Her face looked all hot and red.
“This is for Dummies,” she cried, “and I still don’t understand it. That means I’m less than a Dummy. What’s less than a Dummy? Billy no brains? I don’t think there’s anything rattling around up here, Henry. I think it’s empty. Tell me you think I’m smart, please….” and she started blubbering.
Well, what could I say? Nothing, of course. I just looked at her. Then she had the cheek to say, “Stop looking at me as if I were an injured puppy!” Honestly, it’s not even PMS time. If it was, I could understand, but it isn’t.
Why does she want to know stuff about Physics anyway? And what did she really expect? That she’d read it and ‘hey presto’ she’d turn into a Rocket Scientist? I wanted to say, “Wait until Uncle Hugh gets home and he’ll explain all the stuff you can’t understand.” Then after thinking about how that simple, harmless sentence might have been received, I thought that perhaps it’s a good job I can’t speak.
I think she might be a bit anxious about going back to the yUK this Sunday. She might be worried about how she’ll fit back into a 9-5 office role and wondering what it is she’ll actually be doing. I don’t know. I do know that she’s stressing that she hasn’t got any ‘work clothes’ anymore. Honestly mum, you do stress about some daft things.
I’ve been wondering about my blogging when I’m away. I can’t imagine having much to blog about. Between you, me and the gatepost it’s fairly mundane in the kennels. All the stuff that goes on is very doggy, and not stuff that you humans would understand. I don’t think you’d appreciate me explaining all the vagaries of my doggy pals, especially when most of them simply don’t apply to humans. It’d be like talking gobbledegook to you. Most of my posts have been inspired by my life with mum and Uncle Hugh. There’s only so much you can explain to humans about the complexities of scent, and stuff like that.
So, I’ve been thinking about encouraging mum to blog whilst I’m away. I think it would be cathartic for her – so that she could get stuff off her chest whilst she ventures into her new life back in old yUK.
Obviously, she wouldn’t take over from me. After all, I’m the star. She could have her own blogsite that I’d link to where you folk could visit, and then I’d start blogging again when I get back. I’m having a think. Your comments/suggestions would be appreciated.
We went for a walk when she stopped crying and it was pissing it down. It’s all right for mum, she had her waterproofs on, I simply had my fur – here are a couple of photos of me looking very wet:
And here's one of me yesterday when I stopped mid-walk and refused to go any further because it was TOO WARM! Honestly, this weather.
It's hailing at the moment. Doesn't know what to do with itself.
.....I'm a Mini Schnauzer, which I reckon is the coolest breed on this planet. I've got grey hair, which isn't because I'm old -I was born in April 2005, so in case any cool, sexy lady dogs are reading this - I'm in my prime. I live in France at the moment but that may change very soon. I decided to start this blog because my mum's was having a bad time due to the Credit Munch and was ignoring my attempts to get her attention (worrying my basket, her socks, her slippers and looking very appealing with my big brown eyes). Mum lives with a guy called Hugh Bastard, at least I think that's his name. It's what she calls him from time to time, but she also calls him Sweet Hart. I call him Uncle Hugh.