The Geek Mythologies

The Pooch

It must be a dog thing, destroying a cuddly toy that is. Or is it a bloke thing? Who knows, but what I do know is that when certain weenies don’t put their toys away this mummy isn’t going to take any responsibility for wee puppy dogs that get torn to pieces limb from limb, decapitated even, by the pooch. And by wee puppy dogs I am referring to a once upon a time it resembled a cuddly toy but now it’s nothing but a bundle of torn to shreds fluffy stuff. And Buster is the pooch, an actual pooch, not a stuffed with fuzz and fluff type.

The pooch has his routine when he comes to my house (the pooch is mine occasionally via a shared care arrangement) He runs upstairs on the off chance somebody might be up there waiting to greet him (often there is) and then he comes back downstairs and does the rounds of the house, checking all of the bedrooms etc. I suspect he is checking for balls that do sometimes get left under the weenies beds, because when he does spot a ball he turns into a crazy excited must get the ball and tear around the section with it type of pooch. For a seemingly dogless house there is a lot of balls hidden (or lost) in various parts of the property. I never know where they are and yet if I send the pooch in search of a ball he always comes back with one. Genius. Or good tracking system.

Now back to the orininal story, the pooch destroyed a cuddly toy. Just to clarify, the cuddly toy in question was nothing more than a shabby old ugly puppy thing that I have been trying to biff out for years, but the little weenie keeps on saving it. She doesn’t exactly play with it or even like it for that matter, she throws it up into the trees and offers it to the birds for nesting materials. And every now and then it gets picked up off the lawn and thrown into the shed. So it’s only fitting that at long last it has been put to rest, gone is the shabby old puppy toy at long last. (I am not a huge fan of fluffy cuddly toys, there is plenty more in storage where that one came from.) And I’m glad the pooch had so much fun destroying that shabby old thing, it was the funniest thing I have seen in ages. I don’t know what posessed him to pounce on it and tear into it but bless him he did, he couldn’t have picked better.

Now it doesn’t end there, oh no. (Sorry dude but I can’t leave this bit out..haha) I made the mistake of texting Daz and telling him what the pooch was upto, was that a good idea? Possibly not, because then I received a phone call from Daz, giving me one of his ‘I’m shaking my finger at you girly’ telling offs. This isn’t the first time he has told me off and it probably won’t be the last time either. Personally I think he enjoys it but that’s another story. So what was he telling me off for? For letting -yes letting- the pooch attack and destroy. Trying and failing miserably to hold back my laughter I managed a feeble ‘it’s ok, really..’ but I didn’t manage to explain why in fact it was ok, because Daz had his knickers in a knot about it all. I am not to allow the pooch to destroy anything, partially because it is unacceptable behaviour (tsk tsk crap I’m in trouble) and partially because the pooch might do it at his house. To be fair (gritting my teeth here) yes he does have some valid points, yes he does know the pooch better than I do, and yes I shouldn’t have stood by in hysterics while the fluffy puppy’s head tore off, yes I am a bad girl and need to

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