I am Amos

"I am Amos, hear me snore
See me stretched out on the floor
And I'm slow - too much to try and start again
'Cause I do just what I want
I'm a Peke and I can rant
No one's ever gonna change my royal reign

(You can hum this to Helen Reddy's "I am Woman")

We are learning that Pekes NEVER do anything unless they think it's their idea - and it needs to be a truly splendid idea too.

So when it's supper time, he throws his head from side to side :

"Oh look how cute I am - I might lick a plate
 look at this Peke, I smile and I speak
Now gimme that treat! "

I made the mistake tonight of trying to take him for a (short) walk down the road, because we thought the lad might be sleeping a tad too much. Y' know "healthy mind, healthy body" - a walk a day keeps the doctor away - kind of thing.

The problem of course is that Amos' idea of going for a walk, is rushing to the side of the car and screaming for me to open the door so he can get in. Thence to be propelled in great style round the village, courtesy of the internal combustion engine....

And (naturally), he's not trained to walk on a leash. Why would he be? Nobody's ever had the temerity to try and actually make him walk - until now. So - on goes the harness (which is a wonderful adjustable contraption, orange in colour, and it gets clipped to the leash - just so.

And Amos sprints to the car. And stops dead.

" OEAGHHAGHOAAWAWWAWWAWWAW" , he intones. At full volume. And of course, the neighbouring dogs (and the neighbourhood dogs) prick up their ears and take an interest, and start barking at full volume.

But worse is to come. Hell bent on destroying what's left of my tattered reputation, I bravely cluck him into venturing outside the front gate. Wherapon he sits his backside firmly on the ground and : "WORRAWORRAWORRAWAWWAWWAW" at full volume. The next door dogs are now getting their juices nicely up and working, and are starting to rev.

So in desperation, I scoop him up and escort him to the other side of the stop street, some 50m from the front gate. Hopefully he will now breathe in the scents of evening and condescend to trot along happily in the gathering gloom (I chose gloom to make it harder for anyone to identify me).

No such luck. He has been silent under my arm, but when I put him down, its "WORRAWORRAWORRAWAWWAWWAW" again, in a rich variety of choral tones. Freely translated, it means "Oy! come and look at this bastard maltreating me. He's taking me to the Tower of London, where he will put me on the rack and stick hot pokers up my ass". And of course, unless I take action immediately, the locals are sure to stick their heads out of the windows and wonder why the guy down the road is persecuting his pets. One can never be too careful in a small village.

So I cheerfully cluck and whistle, and - surprise!  - the lad charges ahead. "Oh good", I think, "we're going to have a little fun. I'm going to stroll in a leisurely manner and Amos is going to start to take in the heady evening scents and have a little fun". And of course, I'm wrong. He charges two metres and stops dead. Then ducks his head down and buries it in the dirt on the side of the road, apparently trying to emulate some sort of digging machine. And this process is repeated a couple of times.

(I would like to mention here that I worked quite hard this morning in very sweaty conditions to wash and groom the boy, so I'm not altogether enchanted with the prospect of our pet grinding the top of his skull through the substrate, en route to some nether region several hundred meters below ground level). But what the hell do I matter?

He then adds insult to injury by coughing up a lungful of foam, just to show me how little he is enjoying this walk. So I give up. I pick him up under one arm, and peace is restored immediately. As I walk the 100m or so back home, I have to endure the local youths "Hey mister, that's a nice dog". "Yes he is", I reply through gritted teeth.

"What sort of dog is he?"
"He's a Pekingese", I reply, trying not to burst into tears.

And the moment I open the gate, and slide the reluctant lad into the property, removing his harness and leash? He bounds forth, wagging furiously. Can't wait to get back inside.

Sigh. At least I now know. No pleasant walks with camera in hand, ambling along while Amos enjoys his surroundings. I'll have to go on my own.

He's getting as much exercise as he wants, in the back garden....

Superdick

It's a joke! I'm talking about Italian politics.

I never have the need to watch comedies anymore - I get my jollies from watching BBC, CNN and Sky. I never bother to watch (South African) SABC or ETV - that's just gossip for brain dead idiots. But some of the items on the overseas channels are laugh-a-minute stuff.

Take for example the latest Italian soap-opera. I'm talking about the off-again on-again Berlusconi power grab. If you've been watching, you will know that Italian PM not-so "super" Mario Monti is throwing in the towel after only a few months and has opened the way for the ever-hungry Silvio Berlusconi to march in and take over the top job (again)....(sigh)

And now tonight on CNN we are informed that Mr B is urging Super Mario to take back the big job again. Give me a major break. I can't wait for the next episode where we find out who shot JR. Sorry! That's been done already, hasn't it?  Well - perhaps we'll be shown the inside of husky Matilda Tritt's inner thighs where we find the address and phone number of a Belgian belly dancer.

Forget the fact that Uncle Silvio appears to be almost universally viewed as bad news, or (to be less indelicate) lacking in credibility. Forget the fact that (amongst other things) he has an outstanding court conviction for romping around au-naturel with an underage minor and doing all the things we might expect in such moments of passion.  And definitely forget all the other nonsense he has been involved with.

See : Naughty Silvio for just a taste.

He's 76 for god's sake. Superdick. And that's not short for detective.

The funniest thing though is that the Italians might just be prepared to have him back as the PM. I swear those Euros deserve everything they get. I mean - how thick do you have to be, to vote a paedophilic philandering felon (I like alliteration) back into office?

Just shows - you get as much shit as you are prepared to put up with. No wonder the world in general and the Eurozone in particular is a shambles.

Yesterday I felt sorry for Europeans. Tonight I'm not so sure. I was starting to get defensive about LaGarde's manouvering to keep the Italians in financial shackles for the term of their natural lives. Now I think if they're that stupid, they deserve everything they get.

Can't wait to hear about a new bailout for Italy in some not too distant CNN broadcast....

O Come Mall : The Faithful

Humour me - I'm feeling frivolous. And festive.

So - in the spirit of the nonexistent Jesus, god (small g) et al, I dedicate this to the Gods (big G - they make the world go round) of the 20th and 21st century commercialism, after whom this season is derived and the stupidity of those who persist in believing in ghosts and apparitions.

All together now - and don't waver on those high notes :

"Oh come mall the faithful
Edgars and the water bars
Woolworths and Checkers and the fine clothing stores
Come and be merry
Spend your cash entirely

O come and park in safety
O come and spend so hastily
O come and max your credit cards
Until the new year

Oh spend, throngs of housewives
Spend on sets of kitchen knives
Or spend it on furniture or home decor
Spend it - O spend it
We care not what you buy with it

(softly)
But spend with cash or credit
O spend and don't regard the debt
You'll get 3 months to pay
And then you'll regret it !

All hail god of finance
We greet thee with our bank advance
Born of debt and overdraft
You name is adored!
Buy now pay later
The bills are soon appearing

(softly)
But keep the money flowing
O keep the credit growing
And keep the masses from knowing
That the crunch is near!

Ah - men!

You're the Next Indian

Remember Nelson Mandela?

Well - South Africa and the world cannot forget him - the man came out of 30 years of imprisonment to lead the country to freedom, and it's a debt nobody should forget too soon.

But this post is not about Nelson Mandela. It's about Leonard Peltier and the plight of the Native American Indian - a race which were systematically exterminated and victimised by the American governments of the day - right up to the present time.

And whereas Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for something he actually did, Leonard Peltier was imprisoned for something he didn't do, on the flimsiest contrived evidence - hearsay from an "eyewitness" who wasn't even on the scene at the time. But it was a convenient excuse to get one of the key leaders of the Native American Indian movement out of the way - and it's been 37 years already and there is no end in sight. If the US government gets its way, Peltier will die in jail. He's scheduled for release in 2040 - if he doesn't get paroled at his next hearing in 2024. Can the Americans bear it?

There we have them - a supreme example of the biggest hypocrites on Earth. The US government boycotting  South Africa for release of one of our leaders, while ignoring the shameful and wrongful imprisonment of one of their own. A man whom they fear, because they know he'll be a rallying point for the Native American peoples. A trial that was criticised by amnesty International in the 2010 report - the Peltier case has been placed on its unfair trials list.

A nation which proclaims their "freedom" while enslaving their people under repressive security legislation, enacted without due force of law to "protect them" from the scourge of "terrorism", following an act of terror carried out with the collusion and cooperation of the US government itself. I speak of 911.

THE LAND OF THE FREE! Oh yes? The land of the Nazi police state more like.

Hypocrites! The US who proclaim freedom, yet try to block the passage of recognition of the Palestinian people in the UN - people who like the Native American Indians were in their true homeland before the "settlers" arrived and settled them out of it. How did the Native American Indians go from being the majority to the tiniest minority?

South Africa imprisoned and exiled its majority. America killed theirs.

Listen to the words of this, and reflect. Wake up otherwise you will be the next Indian.

Introverts Bite Back!

Ah! The much- maligned and misunderstood Introvert. The modern world doesn't understand introverts (or doesn't want to), because the marketing message being drummed into everyone's heads all the time is that extrovert = good, introvert = bad.

Take a look at all the dumb ads on TV these days. Hennessy and parties. Miller Lite and parties. Peter Stuyvesant and girls and skiing and parties (if one actually sees a tobacco ad these days - which is rare). Booze - any booze - girls and parties. And parties and parties and girls and parties. Get the picture?

And everyone - I said EVERYONE is having a great old time. All boozing and jumping and sunning themselves on luxury yachts and smiling like idiots who have been infected with tetanus.

The problem is, there are approximately 50% of the world's population who are introverts. They're not partying. They're thinking. And they're thinking some serious thoughts. The artists, scientists, mathematicians, some politicians = mostly introverts. And a good thing too - somebody has to think in this rather superficial, apparently fairly brainless, impulsive world full of rabid consumers.

G is an introvert - almost completely 100%. But she has some real, genuine luminaries in her list of fellow introverts. Makes my list look a little tired and has-been. I'm jealous.

So - in tribute to all the introverts out there, this wonderful little thought:



Now there's a thought!

Cummonamos and Other Stories

Ok - so we ended up getting another dog. That makes 2, which is hardly overwhelming. Plus the cats, which is um ah... still quite manageable - as long as everyone minds their P's and Q's.

Amos is a Peke, and Amos is a rescue dog. And Amos is now OURS - and we love him to bits. He was found trotting down the road in a dishevelled condition en-route to the freeway whereupon he would have been run over, or grabbed by a member of the (sub-economic) township through which he was travelling and transformed into a mange-ridden township dog.

But he wasn't - he was spotted and taken into care by a member of the local animal welfare (good for them - I wish the animal fancies would put their money and time where their hypocritical mouths are, and devote both to assisting animal rescue in our country-but they don't, of course  - it's left to the tireless and underfunded volunteers whose heart is bigger than their wallets but who will never stop in their quest to alleviate animal suffering. I don't know what we'd do without them).

Anyway- although rather grubby and a bit stinky at present - he is in one piece and a wonderful placid boy he is. As soon as his stitches from his neuter operation are removed, he will be bathed and the stinky will be but a distant memory....

Why Amos? Because he sticks like glue to us (Amos is a local brand of adhesives). The fact that we decided to get another dog as a companion for our ageing but sprightly crossbreed dog, is of course, entirely irrelevant to Amos. He, like most Pekes, is a mixture of human, cat and dog. And Amos regards himself as human first and foremost, and dog a very sorry second (or third, perhaps).

Ho no! Not a "dog" at all. Amos is a human, who lies on his back right next to the water dish and enjoys having his tummy rubbed (and caressed by the breeze). The matting round the ears and underarms/legs and around the bum necessitated a shave, and we broadened this to the entire stomach area - for which we are being thanked by his obvious enjoyment of lying around on his back with his legs in the air - fast asleep, of course.

When we arrived, he had an earset like an Alsatian - courtesy of the tennis ball sized mats behind and below each ear. Thank goodness for no.7 skip-tooth blades.....At the end of it, he could flap his ears around like the best of them!

- He rarely barks - there's no point - everything is to his liking, so why complain?
- He chats a bit - mainly to G and never to me. Consists of long loudish vowel sounds, like this : OOEEEAAAAAHH, EEEEEOOAAAAHHAAEEA (get the picture)? You can practice the same effect in front of your bathroom mirror before bed.  Fill mouth with potent breath freshener - so. Tilt head back 40 degrees, and just when you feel like you are about to drown, blow melodiously through the back of the throat and up through the enveloping liquid, in loud stentorious tones : AAAAAAAAAOOOGGHHHAAH. Try it in ascending notes to get the full rich effect. Try not to inhale during this process - it might be a little ....shall we say...unfortunate. But Amos has it down to a T.
- He has absolutely no recognition of other dogs. How could he? He's human, after all. Amos would never condescend to be a mere dog. Ugh!

But what of poor old Sparkie, the ageing crossbreed, in whose name Amos ultimately arrived? Have you ever noticed that just when you think your animals are going to react in a particular manner, they always surprise you and do exactly the opposite to what you expect? So it was yesterday with the regal arrival of Amos. "I can't wait to see how they get on together - wheeee!!!"

Yeah - right. Sparkie and Amos exchanged anal greetings (the normal type of dog thing) and then proceeded to ignore each other completely. "That's not a dog" "I don't know you".  At the very least I might have expected something like:

"Holy shit. A dog. What the @*ck is a dog doing in my backyard? Who put it here, and when will it be leaving?"

What we got was "Ho hum. a dog. hopefully it will be like the others that sometimes come here for some R&R and then bugger off after a week or so. zzzzzz".

And from Amos' side we got "hmmm - interesting. If in fact anyone is interested in a dog. I'm not. Time to get back inside. Sleep calls"

And of course, like all Pekes, he has to think everything is his idea, before he condescends to pay any attention. Otherwise all entreaties will fall on deaf ears. Like "c'mon Amos - let's go - c'mon c'mon!!" whistle whistle. Which is met by an interested stare from under the mop and the lad then sinks gratefully onto the ground for another 40 winks. Pffffh.

And what do the cats think? Ow! They know a dog when they see one - even one with as regal a bearing and placid exterior as Amos. Scatter unto the four winds! Some of them did indeed scatter, and a few didn't. One of the lads is as laid-back as they come and didn't give a tinker's cuss. A few give him a wide berth for now - just in case. And a couple are feeding on the window sills because they don't want to set foot in case the dreaded hairy monster sets upon them and attacks like a rabid vampire. But they'll get over it - time heals many wounds, and indignities, like bringing another dog into the household.

List of Amos doggie to do's: 

- Amos not chase the cats
- Amos not schnapp when they schniff me
- Amos take a bath one of these days
- Amos not eat the kittyfood

He's the model of modern respectability. I suppose we need someone in the household who is.

DEBT Recovery 101

I have the occasional flash of humour that flows into my pen, and I was thinking about an issue I came across with a client who got hung out ot dry with an unscrupulous non-payer. Y'know - the type of person / business who drags out payment with all sorts of smarmy nonsense excuses like:

"I went to pay you, but your dog ate the cash, before I could get to your front door"   or
"I have paid - I did the bank transfer yesterday" (but of course they haven't) or possibly
"I have been meaning to pay you but I first HAVE to get a misunderstanding sorted out with one of your incorrect bills, before I do so"  (thus blaming you for not being paid)

Today, I devised a little note to send to a (former) debtor, when you have finally wrung some money out of them, threatening them with a fate worse than death if they didn't comply :


"Gawrsh! Payment!!

"Dear ex-Debtor

Thank you so much for actually paying me recently. It's such a pity I have to get all grindy with the teeth and shout and scream to get money out of you. But then again, it wasn't actually ME shouting and screaming at you. It was another guy who really (I said REALLY) has a fkucing short fuse.

He's the guy I buy my ink cartridges from, and unlike me, he's not at all nice and patient when it comes to getting cash out of people. In fact he's a right BASTARD (in mile high capitals). He smiles a lot, but is known to resort to extreme violence when provoked. So you don't want to get him angry.

Which reminds me - I'm about to send off some more goodies for you. It may be nice if you pay promptly, because I need to buy ink from him, and I'd HATE to have to make him angry with you so soon after the last time. He's got google street view, you know. He's been having a squizz at the front of your home, as well as the shop. I sort of think of him as "my little birdie"......

Yours uncompromisingly,

Ms Ex - Creditor

I was extremely tickled to get the following response from the unfortunate person who was being hung out to dry :

Thank god I don't have a lap top

because I just spat a mouthful of tea onto the keyboard.
this is delicious.
I wish I could send it.

This letter should grace the pages of mad magazine.
you would be their prize writer.



And now that I've blogged it, both she, and you dear reader, should feel happy to use it - you got it off the internet in the public domain, after all! Enjoy - may your recovery from debt, and of your debt be painless and carefree...