George's 5th Strand (2007); Day Number 25
Now Playing: Left-Obers
So tiday, I'm sitting here inna Study, doing my Cute and hoping for summa that *rilly* good Flat Italian Parsley that seems to be growing our in Hunny's Our Warren Memorial Rose & Herb Gardin.
So far, in spite ob my best Cute, nuffin has currently arrived.
Howebber, I do not beeleeb in Gibbin' Up. That is for Udder Creechurs who don't Beeleeb in their Cute. I do, which is why I know Maman is going to offer Alla Us Togedder sumfing wike a Treat soonest. Just as soon as she and I get this Blog sorted out, which is Why I'm Keeping Up My Cute - the more Cute, the sooner we go Downnastairs to getta Treates.
Unless she runs outta coffee. Then we go Downnastairs a lot sooner. But we also come Back Uppystairs because she has This Fing going aboud'da Dissyplin.
Howebber MissyBun and I each gotta Bite ob Spice Cookie, which is sorta like a Treat, 'cept it's only Wun Bite, which is not Very Much.
Bunnies prefer a Muchness, wike you get wif Salad, or Baby Organic Carrots or Flat Italian Parsley, or ebben Raisins, where you get More Than Wun.
But Maman is habbin' Cookies for Breakfast mainly because she can dip them in her coffee so there are No Crumbs to bung up her 'puter, and because she says she agrees wiffa "Bill Cosby Theory ob Cake" - it has alla required nutritional ellymints innit, wike wheat, cornstarch, sugar, spice, butter - which are Natchurally Eaten by Hoomins for Breakfast, and it tastes Good.
She says she is no fan ob whut she calls da "Twigs and Berries" approach to Nutrition. "Granola" bars don't last around here because mostly, they get fed toda Dawg. He eats ennyfing.
Last Nite, Phil-da-Lad came ober and stayed to hab Hot-dogs for dinner. Dis is his favourite dinner and Maman allus buys these same hot-dog fings called "Hebrew Nashunals". They are not axtchually Dawgs, I shuld point out, but sumfings dat hoomins stick inside ob rolls to eat.
So da Dawg, who issa real dawg named Marc-da-Border-Collie, sat down to wait and see if there wuld be "Left-Obers". Marc is a Big Fan ob Left-Obers, and doesn't ebben hab to hab enny Cute to get them. He just hasta sit there and be whut Dadda calls A Hairy Dust-Bin.
So Marc is sitting inna Dining Room, being A Hairy Dust-Bin, and along comes Cokie-da-Fat-Cat.
Now Cokie doesn't bother with his Cute, eidder, unless certain condishiuns prevail, and Showing Up For Dinner isn't Wun Obba Condishuns. Cokie doesn't beeleeb in Catz Axtin' For Left-Obers. As he sees it, left-obers are a Rite, and in partic'lar, they are His Rite.
So he comes stumpin' innu da Dining Room, sits down nextest toda Dawg, fixes Dadda wiffa Stare and demands his porshun obba Left-obers.
And Cokie's Porshun preddy much incloods ebberyfing onna table.
So Dadda tells Cokie, "You're outta luck, son."
And Cokie turns around and flips his tail at Dadda (they hab *dat* sortaz relayshunship) and strolls unnerneaf obba Dawg's chin to go stand up on his hind feets to habba look at Phil's plate!
So Phil is, wike, "You want me to play whack-a-mole wif you hed, Cat?"
And Cokie glares at Phil, gets down and starts shamblin' ober to where Maman is sitting. But Maman stops him bifore he ebben gets there by sayin, "Don't ebben, Cokie!"
And by dis time, da Dawg is lying down, so Cokie makes a U-turn, and comes back to lie down, full-stretch across da Dawg's paws and rolls ober on his back, so datta Dawg has No Choice but to be lookin' down across a Broad Hextpanse ob Cat-gut.
Anna Dawg is lookin around helplessly, wike, "Sumbody ged him offa me!"
Anna Upside-down Cokie-Cat starts to Complain Out-loud dat he is not geddin' enny obba Left-obers.
So out inna Bun Room, MissyBun *Thumps* which is her way ob telling da Cokie-Cat to "Shaddup".
Normally Missy's *thumps* are preddy powerful, since she issa Big, Beautiful Bunny-Gurl ob Gen'rus P'roporshuns, but dis time she was sitting inna pootie-pan when she did it, so da nice layer ob Yestreday's Noos litter absorbed some obba shock and muffled da sound a widdle bit - which is why Maman called through frumma Dining Room,
"All right, George, that's enough frum out there!"
And I'm, wike, "Whut?" Because I knew I hadn't done ennyfing.
And den Dadda says, "Dat wasn't George. Too light; it hadda be Mouse."
And Mouse is sitting quietly in his corner and he's, wike, "Whuttaheck?"
So Missy *Thumps* again, just to straighten ebberybunny out.
And ob course while dis is going on, Cokie-da-Fat-Cat is still lying upside-down across da Dawg's paws, complaining dat he's not geddin' left-obers anna Dawg is busy looking Distressed because he's Covered in Cat and can't do ennyfing aboud'dit.
So it's Phil who gives in Furst.Maman says he hassa soft heart. Dadda says he sumtimes hassa soft hed to go wiffit, but dat's anudder story altogedder. So ennyways, Phil leans ober da side ob his chair and says toda Cokie-Cat,
"All right, Fat-Guts. If I gib you a liddle piece ob hot-dog, will you shut da h*ll up?" (I can't type does kinda Navy werds, Maman says.)
And Phil breaks offa widdle bit ob his hot-dog and places it onna floor.
Well, da Cokie-Cat rolls up at oncest, stands on all four feets, and gobbles down the widdle piece ob hot-dog.
Anna Dawg unscrambles his legs and stands up, too. And his face is set inna "Whaaaaaaa!" hextpression.
And Dadda wooks atta Cokie-Cat and says, "Dat didn't ebben touch da sides goin' down."
And Maman, who ob course notices da Dawg in Distress, says to Phil, "Now gib sumfing - not da roll, Stoopit! - toda Dawg so he won't feel left out."
And Phil is wike, "I would wike to hab sum ob my food left for me to eat! I'm a growing boy!"
So Maman glares at him and calls da Dawg ober to her. And da Dawg goes ober to her, only to find datta Cokie-Cat has taken a short-cut unnerneaf obba table and beaten him toda side ob her chair!
Now da Dawg is Not Allowed to show enny Aggression toward enny Catz or Bunnies, eidder, for dat matter. No matter Whut We Do, he hasta show Obedience and Restraint. Dat's part ob his Job, and Jobs are sacred amongst Border-Collies (ob which he is wun).
So here issa Fat-Cat, cuttin' Furst In Line for left-obers ahead ob him, and he can't do a Fing abouddit.
But since he is taller, Maman gibs da Dawg sum hot-dog. And she leans ober her chair, and dere issa Cokie-Cat, glaring up at her and purring wike a motor-boat.
And Maman says, "These guys have bad attitudes, getting fed frumma table like dis." Den she looks up and acrosst da table at Dadda and adds, "Brian, dis is your fault."
And she puts downna'nudder widdle piece ob hot-dog onna floor forda Fat-Cat and gibs da Dawg anudder chunk ob hot-dog.
And Phil says, "Yeah, Brian. They didn't beg wike dis bifore you came. It's your fault."
And Phil breaks offa'nudder widdle bit ob hot-dog datta Fat-Cat sees and inhales rite away. And den he gibs anudder, bigger piece toda Dawg.
And Dadda is sittin' dere, wike, wif his hed on one side, and he says, "Hextcuse me? Who is feeding dem frumma table?"
And just den, da Cokie-Cat pops up frum unnerneaf obba table, almost in Dadda's face, and he's got his paws out, hanging on across Dadda's arm, wif claws (which he is not sus'posed to do).
And Dadda's wike, "Owwwww! You (Anglo-Saxon werds dat Maman says I am not allowed to type go here)!" and he shakes da Cokie-Cat offa his arm.
Well, da Cat goes flying, and rite aboud den, da Dawg's training preddy much snaps, and dere issa brief run-around around da Dining Room, and a whole lotta shouting wif Navy werds and Anglo-Saxon werds dat Maman says Small White Bunnies shuld not type in their Blogs. And den da Cat bolts for Uppystairs wif da Dawg hot on his tail afta him.
And den dere is preddy much quiet inna Dining Room. 'Cept for Dadda sitting back down in his chair. And Phil chucklin'. And Maman snortin', "Good grief!"
So just to sort ob putta "Last Werd" in (because dat's whut she's wike), MissyBun *Thumps* again frum where she's ockypying da High Ground inna pooty-box. And da nice, new litter preddy much absorbs da weight obba sound again.
And Dadda calls in frumma Dining Room, "Shaddup, George!"
And I'm, wike, "Whut?"
And Missy wooks acrosst da habbytat to me and says, "You herd Dadda. Shaddup."
------------------------ By George!
Posted by Our Warren
at 11:29 AM EDT