Greeting my dearest reader, I trust that you are well, that the sun is shining on your upturned cheeks and you are seated comfortably with a custard cream. It has been something of a trying few days for me. I thought I had the humans quite well trained in the art of Lurcher nurturing, but alas no. I feel their standards are slipping, and so I have had to put paw to paper to write a short guide, that will hopefully remind the pair of shambling dingbats of my needs. I have only just begun, and I am anticipating that this could potentially become quite extensive.
1. Please do not ping my bingo wings like you are plucking a harp, it is not funny and quite honestly how would you like me trying to play Duelling Banjo’s on your flappy bingo wings?
2. Don’t be surprised if I burp in your face when you bend down to pet me, this is just my natural response to you. Also, don’t complain about the piquant aroma of the circulating miasma that follows. You buy the food, if I smell like unearthly gizzards and unidentified loins then try me on fillet steak. In fact, try me on that anyway. Medium rare please, and a nice full bodied red to go with it. No salad.
3. You need to accept and embrace the fact that I will barge open the bathroom door to scrutinise you when you have a wee, it’s baffling. Why don’t you squat and raise a leg daintily like I do?
4. It is in fact very important for me to shake myself vigorously at 3am. Yes, it does resemble demonic clackers but it is essential to do this to resettle oneself before nestling down again. Sometimes ones furry folds can become ruckled and need to be set free. Also, I should not be expected to move from a bed once I have made my buttocks comfortable and have arranged my legs in a pleasing formation.
5. You knew you would give in about me being on the bed at night as soon as you saw my big brown eyes fluttering at you. Just let it go now, and enjoy my body heat, you will of course pay the penalty for this in the summer when it warms up a tad. There will indeed be 22kg of lurcher generated moistness and you will casserole yourselves like a boil in the bag chicken. Snigger.
6. As you have now accepted me on your bed, you will forgive any accidental botty trumpeting that might occur when I am asleep. This is also true of any huffing and whiffling I might do. In turn I agree to accept the vile and windy expulsions that I in turn have to endure…they can at times make my ears oscillate which is most bothersome.
7. I am a slave to my dreams and I make no apologies if I wake you up ‘dream barking’ as I chase something, this is often the only time I ever get to catch anything. Apart from the thing that happened the other week…and I have already apologised for. Several times.
8. A hound should be allowed to eat sheep/horse/rabbit poo on a walk, we are in the countryside after all and you are always banging on about recycling. Natures nibbles are an important supplement to any hounds nutritional requirements.
9. You must accept that your dinner will always be far more interesting then mine. As an aside, it was a historical tradition for hounds in the Royal Courts to taste the food before a banquet to make sure it wasn’t tainted. I may have made that up…
10. If I look sad then you should gently croon to me whilst stroking my neck, this is also true if sadness if my default ‘look’. A hound needs love. Constantly.
11. I am well within my houndly rights to decide that I do not like a particular food once I have tried and tested it, then you then buy a huge bag of it for me. I am not a contrary beastie, I am selective. I have standards you know.
12. If you go out in the evening and do not take me, then I will widdle on the floor as a sign of my disappointment and disapproval. If you are away for longer than usual I will then wee in your slippers. This is not negotiable.
To be continued…
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