Murphy’s Law

Murphy (15 of 15), originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

Dribbling contentedly on my foot is Murphy. After a brief – but forceful – explanation of exactly how democracy works in our family, it was agreed the black hound of lower hell should go by the name of a Guiness wanabee. And there are good reasons for this, the best of which is my refusal to shout “Ziggy, STOP” if and when the toothy pup starts chewing on someone else’s car tyre.

Such an action is clearly contravening the RULES. This document has a series of non negotiable behavioral patterns as laid down by the pack leader. So for the first time in my married life, there is something organic lower down the hierarchical chain than yours truly. Before Murph arrived, that was a rank allocated to a jar of sandwich pickle.

A brief immersion into the four closely written sides of A4 which constitute the rules will demand said dog shall not:

– Wee, Poo or Barf in any location other than within 10 feet of the compost bin
– Eat the Cat Food, the Cat, the furniture, the kids toys or anything chewy, rubbery and previously representing a mountain bike tyre
– Whine, howl, whimper or bark when shut in the cage*
– Fall headlong into the pond while chasing spiders.

This is merely a summary and once the dog has learned to read, I fully expect them to be followed in full. Until then, and based on experiences so far, almost all of these rules are merely guidelines to be ignored in the spirit of puppidom. So far, I’ve fetched the dog out of the pond, removed a tyre from its’ teeth and given it a stern talking to whenever ‘squatting’ and ‘indoors’ are brought together in a single smelly sentence.

This afternoon I have promised to paint a door. This task is made somewhat harder since Murphy – respecting my status as pack leader – follows me everywhere. It is likely I shall be phoning the emergency vet later this evening to enquire on the correct procedure which follows emulsioning a Labrador.

Cute tho isn’t he? And doesn’t the bugger bloody well know it.

* Although ten years being sort of responsible for children has equipped me with the appropriate tool here. It’s like politicans and whinging kids, if you ignore them long enough, the noise falls back to a background hum.

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