Bruno's Blog

BRUNO'S BLOG Contact him: clive @t citiria dot com
	HOME	When I was little

Long day of the wind and rain.	Both the Clive and the Sandra were in all day. Working on the big kennel where we live. Went out with the Clive in the afternoon. Recent rain. Terrific smells. Washed and pure. I left mine everywhere. Did a number two where the boxer did his biggest number one. Same crap kibble in evening. Old fat from human fast-kibble. But I like it so much! Mike made me mad. That silly little cat-toy. Makes a noise like a cat but no cat smell only plastic smell. One day I'll reach it.
Day of showers. Also, day of the garbage truck.	She, not he, made the breakfast. Not enough meat. I left it. Coming back from walkies, four-wheel motor thing came past. Unfortunately he wrapped my chain round a lamp post before I could leap into action.
Day he sprayed the car bumper. Should have sprayed the cat instead.	He is getting the idea finally. I have to go out for sprinkles every day. If not, I won't be able to spray over what was left by the horrible boxers, from the corner house opposite. It's critical! doG knows what might happen if those smells aren't covered. Been raining again but not so much I couldn't tell where the boxers had been. Not to mention the golden retriever, the squinkly from up the road, and the poodle.
Second day of the new school year after the long holiday.	He learned a new game today. It takes them ages to learn. Twolegs are hard to train. I kept running round the table with the chew bone. He didn't get it. Dumb. So I ran a bit and shook the bone at him. Took time but finally worked. Now he knows he's got to chase me round and round the table. Tuna for dinner. Yum! I love that fish oil. Makes me even smarter than him.
	Here's one of me just before the Swissmutts party last year.
Second day of the second school week.	The new food, Pedigree meaty chunks in gravy, is a hundred times better than that horrible Pedigree 'standard' stuff they always used to feed me. She acts surprised when I clean my bowl. I ask you! You've only got to stick your nose into it. The chunks . . . yummy! I was thinking today. Must be the sardines I've been eating. What am I here for? The twolegs feed me and give me water and take me for walks. I keep aliens off the property, whoever they are, so that makes me the head of security. But what does Timmy the cat do? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!
	You dirty rat! I was out in the garden sniffing around and suddenly this animal ran out. Of course I was on it like a flash. It hid beneath a garden spade so I used my paws to move the spade. Seeing the game was up it made a run for it, but I had it in my jaws within a metre or two.
I have been very bad.	I went 'grrblble' to the female pack leader. And I left a line of teeth marks on her hand. I don't know what made me do it. After, I felt very down because noone would play or even notice me. He spent a lot of time on the Net talking about it. Finally they changed my kibble to a lower protein one and started cooking real meat for me, and I feel much better now. I haven't gone 'grrblble' in ages. The new kibble is 15% protein, he said.
Cult of the Spider God	HE is putting all kinds of sealant around the big lounge window because piles of dead ants are accumulating. Herself goes tut tutt tuttt and vacuums them away, because the cleaning person doesn't. Himself believes that the ants are getting in around the window frame and that spiders must be killing them off. In fact, the ants have quantum capabilities and are simply quantum-tunneling through the window frame. And it's not spiders. The ants are running a religious cult. All these ant bodies are sacrifices to the spider god. The ant colony has a picket that is on permanent TV monitoring duty. The sacrifices started soon after the humans rented a DVD about indian maniacs sacrificing masses and masses of other indians. I wish I could tell the humans the truth behind the simulation known as "Mel Gibson" but I fear it is now too late. If only their senses could reach the frequencies that mine do, they'd soon perceive the truth!
dumb scientists	http://environment.independent.co.uk/wildlife/article2600240.ece " Study proves that animals have different personalities By Steve Connor, Science Editor Published: 31 May 2007 It will come as no surprise to owners of cantankerous cats or disobedient dogs, but scientists have now confirmed what pet lovers have always known: that each animal has its own distinct personality." -Bahaha. I could have told them that without having to spend a huge load of money on research!
Chemical Warfare	Last night I managed to hold on until I was right opposite the house of the Pit Bulls. There is a tree placed just right so I did my customary back and forth, back and forth, building up the pressure, then squeezed out a couple of big ones. Talk about rancid! It must have been the sardine breakfast. Even I had to back off when the wind changed direction. So now, every time the wind blows from the tree across the road, they'll be reminded that I was there! The best part of all is that they never get let out so they won't be able to take defensive action by covering it with one or two of theirs. Hahahahahaha!
	Here I am in the garden next to the orange tree. It is getting near "Exmass" they tell me. In other words the nice cold days. Strange things happen in that tree . . . I see little furry animals running around in there. He says they don't exist but then, he doesn't have all the special senses that I do. It's probably something to do with the lights in the sky. He says (he would wouldn't he) that the lights are just the car dealers across town trying to attract people with more money than sense. But I don't believe it. I think they are the propulsion systems or force fields that transport the UFOs (Unidentified Furry Objects) and some of them are in this orange tree of a night. Since I can't climb trees I asked the cat to investigate but as usual he is too stupid to understand.

	Would you like to play? She bought me this toy. He only buys me hide bones. Or, no, two times he brought me real bones. Gahhh! Horrible smell, stuff - raw stuff! still on them. Of course I 'lost' them in the garden. Later the ants found them. Then a spider god moved in and for a while it was "Apocalypto" with an ant as Mel Gibson. He has to get the toy off me. But of course I always have to win and just to make sure he gets the idea I went "grrrrrblblblb" in a nasty way the last time he was able to get it. That was quite a while ago. I must go, I heard him say the word "out"
	Here I am in the garden again. You probably don't realise it, but this is not a stick I am chewing. It is in fact the right front leg of the dog across the road. At least, for me it is. I bite hard, hear the crunch as my teeth shatter the bone ... er, wood. HE is not too amused by this, he says it is one of his tomato sticks that I'm destroying. I actually managed to escape yesterday! He let me into the garage when he opened the back door. I suppose that he needed extra light to see what he was doing inside the tool cupboard. Of course while he had his back turned I slipped out. Then I waited patiently for Jayne, the junior female of the pack, to arrive and open the sliding gate to bring her car inside. Hahaha! I was straight across the road and gave the dog there a good growling at. Lucky for him he was protected by a steel gate or there would have been bits and pieces everywhere! It's the New Year now. New bones for me!
	Finally the truth is out! I have grown tired of telling people that this cat, Timmy, is a space cat. He did arrive after all, on the front doorstep one day. Nobody introduced him or anything. He just camped there until THEY brought him into the house. So after all this time HE took a picture of me the other day and caught the space cat in an unguarded moment. Look at those eyes! I think it is pretty obvious that those eyes don't belong to any normal Earth creature. And HE says that no, he didn't use Photoshop on the picture, the eyes were really like that. Well of course. I have been telling people that for the last five years or so. But nobody believed me. I am making arrangements to send this photo to the Men In Black. They should be able to deal with this grotesque animal.
	I just have to share this. It seems that at least one human has finally realised about us dogs. This is from a piece by Michael Pollan courtesy of THE DOREEN B. TOWNSEND CENTER FOR THE HUMANITIES at the University of California, Berkeley. . . . the great winners in evolution, if we have to cast it in those terms, are the species that have learned to take advantage of our presence. There are, you know, fifty million dogs in this country and ten thousand wolves; the wolf if the ancestor of the dog. There’s a glamour we attach to the wolf because of that, but in evolutionary terms, it’s the dog who came up with the more effective strategy. COMMENT: Are you saying that dogs are more highly evolved? POLLAN: Well, dogs tend to get the better of this relationship with us at this point. I mean, when our relationship started they worked for us for awhile. Now, we work for them.
	I am very very angry to hear that President Obama's family picked a Portuguese Water Dog for the White House! Obviously a St Bernard would have been the correct choice. After all, a St Bernard can easily provide as much 'water' as needed. I manage to water most of the park on my walkies.
	I have been getting a bit neurotic lately, wanting to lock myself in the Blue Room away from everyone. Of course then I can't get out and if nobody were to spot me I would die of thirst. Actually no, I can always drink the toilet water and push the lever down with my nose to get more. Lovely fresh water! Yum. Anyway there is no food in there. Not even kibble. I have been thinking that it is probably because I am too much dog to be living in a house and garden. I know it is a fair size by human standards, but me, I feel that I was meant for something . . . more significant if you see what I mean. Like, rescuing someone from a mountain snowstorm or from under the snow. But there's no snow here so that's out. Boo. Or. . . um . . . pulling carts loaded with milk chairns! But no, there's no demand for that any more. Or. . . um, snuffle, there goes the cat again, bad kidneys poor chap. . . um, I could be very charming and act in a movie like that Beethoven did. Unfortunately I am not Beethoven. Just as well what a name for a Saint Bernard. So I am reduced to this, this being a PET and guarding the house business! No wonder I am getting neurotic!
	Here I am in the park. Being "taken for a walk". I think it is obvious who is taking who. It is terribly hot at the moment and there has been some mention of 'bath time for Bruno' so I am keeping a low profile. I sneak off every now and again and enlarge the hole in the garden.