Saturday, 2 April 2016

Uptight...

Words from a Bird.  Day 93

Over the last few weeks, a lot of cash has been forked out on expensive toys and chews for Reg. (If you're new to my blog, Reg is our new puppy, and not my long-suffering husband who has no desire for noisy toys).  Reg has a squeaky turkey in a red polka dot bikini (how this is vaguely dog appropriate I have no idea, but my sister, who bought it, thought it had a damn fine squeak).  He also has a bright yellow caterpillar.  Once more, this has no bearing on the canine breed, and again, was bought by my sister. We have knotted rope toys, a green plastic bone, balls, balls on the end of knotted rope and plush soft toys.

But in the past 48 hours, these toys have all been consigned to the garden.  The primary colour plastic lies abandoned in the flower beds, only visited by the odd daft bird thinking it's struck lucky when it sees the size of the caterpillar, only to hop away looking very disappointed.  I am thinking that many of the nests which are currently being built around here at the moment will be lined with frayed pieces of rope, the greens and blues brightening up a normally dull looking abode for a bird. 

But a new toy is in town.  This toy has provided hours of fun, with Reg and Percy playing tug-of-war with it.  Percy likes to use it to drag Reg round the tiled hall floor, and I keep finding Reg rolled up in it, making him look like he's been attacked by a boa constrictor.  They can both sit there quite happily chomping at each end (picture the spaghetti scene in Lady and the Tramp).

And what is this wonderful thing that is keeping my boys occupied for hours on end? 

Well, it's the pair of black tights which Reg stuck a claw into four minutes before I was leaving for work yesterday, casually leaving a hole the size of Gibraltar in.  These were new on yesterday morning, straight out of the packet, and I am now wondering whether this was a plan concocted by the two of them. 

Perhaps they have been planning this for days, watching me carefully for the day when a new pair would be reverently drawn out of the packet.  Obviously, they weren't interested in the tights I have been wearing for some time.  Those would be the ones being held up by braces as the elastic had gone in the waistband, the ones which were hanging on by a thread with more ladders than Homebase.  They had perhaps worked out that these would probably rip at the first tug-of-war.  No, far better that they wait for the new 100 denier pair, the ones with extra strength around the derriere (a must), and the reinforced toes.  This was a pair of tights to aim for.

I must confess that I am quite impressed by the tights' staying power.  Having seen what the dogs have done with them, it makes me more inclined to buy that particular brand again.  If they can survive what the dogs have put them through, it bodes well for the control of my ungovernable derriere.

And who doesn't want that at 52?
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