A dog’s tail


This story’s not easy to tell
Though it’s one that I know very well.
It’s like seeing a tree
When you’re bursting to pee
But it’s too far – that’s one kind of hell!

It started a long time ago.
I’m a dog, as you probably know.
When I was a puppy
My boss was a yuppy;
A self-absorbed young so-and-so.

When he took me out for a walk,
He’d always ignore me and talk
Into his damned phone
As if he were alone.
If I pulled on the lead, he’d just gawk.

One morning I thought of a plan,
A way to get back at this man.
Revenge I would get.
But I won’t tell you yet.
I’ll reveal all as soon as I can.

I decided that, out of the blue,
I’d jump up, like happy dogs do.
That might leave him prone
Then I’d grab his phone
And give the damned thing a good chew.

It causes me anguish to say
That it didn’t work out quite that way.
It shocked him indeed,
He let go of the lead
So I ran. I now live as a stray!

This was written in response to Kreative Kue 372 published on this site earlier this week.


Every picture tells a story


“You are fortunate, my friend.”

“How so?”

“You will capture a superior image with your expensive camera than I will manage with my phone.”

“And yet your phone probably cost three times what this camera did.”

“That is there, but although your camera can take much better photographs, my phone does many more things than just capture images. I can also manipulate the photographs within the phone and send them to my friends and so on.”

“You’re right, Sunil. It’s rightly said that the best camera is the one that you have.”

“That is a wise saying indeed.”

“In any case, I’m not focused on shooting what you are.”

“You are not shooting the beautiful sunset? What, then, are you picturing?”

“I have a blog on which I set a challenge. Each week, I display a photograph and ask my readers to write a story or a poem based on what they see.”

 “And do many people accept this challenge?”

“Not so many. It varies, but never more than three or four. I always try to do something, but sometimes it’s just mine and one friend who always joins in. I enjoy reading what he writes, though. He usually sees something in the photo that I miss.”

“What type of subject do you use in these photographs?”

“Anything. Sometimes people, sometimes dogs, sometimes just scenery.”

“And what is your subject this time?”

“The setting sun is indeed the main focus of the picture, but what interests me is what is happening on the periphery, away from the main subject. The in-your-face brilliance of the sun and the lines of the buildings, as well as the pathways, the gorgeous floral displays and the fabulous topiary all lead your eyes to that focal point. But that’s not what interests me. If we look at something, the actual area of focus is very small. If something moves away from that small area, we have to look at it, refocus on it to see it clearly. The camera picks up everything in its field of vision, but we still need to consciously look away from the point to which we are drawn before we can clearly see other parts of the image.”

“That is very true, and a good lesson in optics or psychology or something, but I still don’t know what you are seeing through your lens.”

“I’m waiting for the scene to play out. I shall take my picture when the conditions are as I expect them to be.”

“What conditions? What do you expect them to be? What are you waiting for?”

“You see the guy in the stripey top?”


“I believe the one behind him, the shifty-looking fellow in the dark blue top and the cap is up to something and I’m waiting for the balloon to go up.”

“What balloon?”

“There is no balloon; that’s just a figure of speech. I believe Mr Shifty is about to attack Mr Stripey and steal his bag. I’ll take my shot when that happens.”

“Wouldn’t you try to stop him?”

“Where’s the story in that? Besides, whist I’m stopping him, I can’t be taking a photo, can I?”

“True. May I offer a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

“Would it not make for a better story if you shoot it now, before the attack? That way, the reader’s imagination can supply the outcome.”

“Sunil: we’ll make a blogger of you yet.”

This was written in response to Kreative Kue 371 published on this site earlier this week.




Agility training, they call it.

Apparently, they’d seen some stuff on their moving picture box; something called Kruffs or something like that; and they fancied having a go themselves.

Not actually doing it themselves, you understand; they wanted to get me to do it.

There’s no end to what some people have their poor dogs do, just so they can get into this Kruffs thing and have loads of other people gawp at them and say how clever they are to be able to train their poor pooches to do these tricks — none of which, I can tell you, have anything to do with what a dog’s supposed to do; or what we would be supposed to do if we were still wild as nature intended instead of being fed with stuff that comes out of packets and tins and spending most of our time sleeping on their sofas.

In fairness, though, a sofa beats the pants off the forest floor any day, for sheer comfort alone. They’re warmer, too. And drier. But that’s not the point. The point is this. What possible use is there in running up one side of a seesaw and down the other? Or jumping onto a table and lying still? Or weaving in and out of sticks pushed into the ground? If you can tell me how any of those things can help me chase a rabbit down his hole or extract a lizard from its hiding place… or even see off a neighbourhood cat, then I’ll gladly do the training. If not, then I won’t.

Yeah, okay. I’ll do it. But only because the big biped tells me to and he’s my pack leader. And I certainly won’t do it gladly. I’ll be moaning all the time. Under my breath, of course. Big biped pack leader doesn’t like it when I grump and snarl out loud and I daren’t upset him.

Why not? Because he is pack leader, and you don’t go against pack leader unless you want to challenge for the job. And really, do I look like I want the pack leader’s job?

Well, I don’t. Too much responsibility for a start. And; and… pack leader is responsible for securing supplies of food and everything else and that’s all geared up for bipeds. I don’t even know where these packets and tins come from. And what do they, the bipeds, eat? And where does that come from? No. I can’t be pack leader. And it stands to reason that if I can’t be pack leader then I have to do as the current pack leader says. And if he says that I have to run up and down a seesaw, then I have to run up and down a seesaw. And if he says I have to jump up onto a table and lie still, then that’s what I have to do. For treats? In part, yes, but mostly because he’s pack leader and I either obey him or replace him and I’m not about to do that!

Hold on; new order incoming. What? He’s taking the mickey, surely. Jump over the female biped, he says. Jump over her? Actually over her? Oh, she’s bending down. That should at least make it possible. Watch this, though. I’ll pretend to be confused. I’ll jump up and sit on her back. See how he likes that.

I’m not defying him, though; I’m not disobeying. Not as such. I’m just misunderstanding what he wants me to do. Here goes.

Dammit! He thinks it’s brilliant and wants it as part of the routine.

Not sure herself agrees, though…

This was written in response to Kreative Kue 370 published on this site earlier this week.