A mighty fine newspaper

Taking a break from my exertions in Nottingham last weekend (see previous post) I cast a glance over Human Granny's newspaper. She has recently switched from the Observer to the Sunday Telegraph.

Look what I found on the letters page (you might need to biggify the image).

Wow!

That's what I call a fine newspaper. I mean it is so true, isn't it, that a dog has never deliberately mis-sold Payment Protection Insurance? When Lord Byron was extolling the virtues of his canine companion*, he never thought of that one did he?

I pointed out these splendid examples of correspondence to Gail and asked her if they sell the Telegraph in Scotland and if so, why isn't she already a subscriber?

After all I can't imagine that Daisy Springer (c/o Michael Davies) would ever get a letter to the editor published in one of Gail's beloved Guardians.

*Epitaph to a Dog

Bertie expands his vocabulary (with Robert Jay QC)

I hope my regular readers will by now have realised that, with Gail's assistance, I attempt to uphold the highest standards of written English on this blog. After all, there are plenty of other places on the internet if you are looking for illiterate and dumbed down versions of the language.

This week I decided it was time to expand my vocabulary, and Gail helpfully pointed me to a video she found on the Guardian website, produced in the wake of the publication of the 'Leveson Report' (an inquiry into the culture, practices and ethics of the press) and featuring the lead counsel to the inquiry.

It is titled 'Learn to speak like Robert Jay QC'.
Now sadly, Lord Justice Leveson's report did not tackle the challenging topic of Internet ethics, a subject which will be of much concern to my fellow canine bloggers, who so frequently suffer the indignity of being photographed while in bath, enduring treatment at the vets, or when dressed in ridiculous outfits purely for the entertainment of their humans.

Time to put that right.

And now that you have watched the video you will have absolutely no difficulty understanding any of the following.

First, I want to adumbrate any potential criticism of this post by emphasising that the topic of invasion of privacy on the internet is neither nugatory nor recondite, and lies squarely within the bailiwick of this blogger. The propinquity of pups to their human carers, the invention of the digital camera and the widespread availability of broadband services are all deleterious to preserving canine confidentiality. Adventitious occurrences of an embarrassing nature can be captured on camera and instantly broadcast  across the globe. One can pelucidly voice one's objections until the cows come home, but the roads to justice are frequently occluded and condign punishments of the perpetrators are, regrettably, seldom enforced...

I hope that's all clear now...

Creature of habit

After a stay in the 'special vacation residence' it's so nice to be home, and back to the familiar daily routine.

An early morning run in the park, greet my pals, then stop by the paper shop on the way home to pick up the Guardian. (We are proud to be Guardian readers in this household, where a boycott of all Murdoch-owned media has been in operation for decades.) A quick post-walk grooming session, accompanied by a crunchy treat to keep teeth busy and away from the brush.... Curl up in favourite armchair and watch Gail fire up the computer and focus on her work. Occasionally remind her of my presence by jumping up and snatching a pen or a tissue off her desk.

Mid-morning coffee for Gail and playtime for me.

(See my new toy, a Newfoundland dog stuffie. Friends you were right, Gail is not so mean after all.)

A lunchtime romp in the garden and a noisy conversation across the wall with next door neighbour, springer spaniel Molly.

Later on, another, longer walk, maybe by the river, along the old railway line, into town, or, on a good day, a short drive in the car to a nearby wood.

Then it's dinner time. Kibble and perhaps another treat. A cuddle from lodger Marie-Thérèse if she's in.

A five minute pre-bedtime trot round the block, then down for the night on comfy kitchen cushion, with hot-water bottle (yes, even in summer) and another wee treat.

Then sweet dreams 'til morning.