Tagged!

Being a high energy dog I run full pelt on the beach and launch myself into the waves as often as I can.  Unfortunately this takes a toll on my accessories, mainly dog tags.  My mum reckons I only get about six months’ use out of them before they wear through and drop off my collar.  I’ve had brass, plastic, metal, enameled, but none of them lasts very long with the thrashing they get.

Now I’m the proud owner of a fetching Red Dingo tag made from stainless steel inlaid with cobalt blue – the current trend colour, I’m told – which the holder of the purse strings thinks may do the trick.  I’m chipped as well, of course, but if I get lost it’s quicker to get back where I should be if my finder can read a tag.  This did happen once.

I went exploring when I was out visiting with the Irish Aunt – sniffed the host’s chickens which were running about the lawn then went to inspect the next door garden.  I knew perfectly well where I was, not in the least lost, and would have found my way back through the hedge if the people in the house hadn’t panicked and thought I’d strayed about two miles from my home.  What a fandango!  Phone calls left, right and centre, lol – and the Irish Aunt didn’t even know I she’d lost me.

 

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Je suis disgusted

Wouldn’t you know – there’s been an international competition for the best online cat video and the French feline my mum likes so much – Henri, le Chat Noir – actually WON!  There’s been massive news coverage, including The New York Times no less.  Guess he really is famous now even though considered opinion says his French accent is atrocious.

Fortunately we don’t get The New York Times in Whitley Bay (online version excepted) so it’s unlikely that the MADAM will get to know and be more insufferably snooty than usual.

Beats me why a miserable moggie should get an award.  Being happy, like me, is far more fun.

This is it: