Apologies, dear reader (readers? echoing void?) for I have been a lax dog, and have been far too busy with important things such as eating, sleeping, and passing wind to jot down these little notes to the Universe. But Time has passed, and I return, at least briefly.
Now, I’m not much of a religious dog, but I do believe that the writer of Ecclesiastes may have had a point when they wrote that there is a time for everything. Although I find myself concerned about some of the serious omissions in that famous list. What of a time for barking at the neighbours? A time for scaring the wotsits out of the courier? A time for punching Them on the sofa until they get me a chew and groom me? A time for walking into a room, belching in someone’s face, then sitting down to fart happily? Major gaps in an otherwise insightful piece of poetry.
Anyway, I digress. For not only is there a Time for everything, there is also a Place. This is important. Very important.
But first, a warning. Dear reader, if reader there be, should you be of a delicate disposition I advise you to stop here, for today I must discuss the vital but perhaps base matter of … defecation.
It’s a truism that, whether or not you want to be the best, defecation’s what you need¹. At least once or twice a day, at any rate.
Further, since I was a mere pup I have heard many a person utter the sage words, and please pardon the vernacular, for I quote without condoning, “You don’t crap on your own doorstep”.
I concur. In fact, not only should one not crap on one’s own doorstep, one should generally avoid crapping anywhere on one’s own property as far as I’m concerned. It’s just not civilised. I mean, why would you? Just because posh folk used to poo up any old corner, doesn’t make it right! Makes me question why Louis XIV would want all those mirrors at Versailles; just makes matters worse if you ask me, more chance of seeing something you don’t want to, potentially reflected forever.
Over the years I have successfully educated Them that, as a dog of refinement and taste, I require an appropriate number of walks to attend to my daily needs. This works out quite nicely, with pre-breakfast, morning, afternoon and bedtime walks. A system that ensures that I can always find an appropriate Place for my Everything, and that place is emphatically not my own garden, thank you very much.
Why, you may be thinking, am I over-sharing in this rather public way?
Well, it turns out that sometimes the requirement to have a Place for your Everything does not coincide with the Time for Everything. And this is bad. In fact, it’s very bad.
You see, They have some quite rigid and frankly inconsiderate ideas about night-time. And it turns out They really, really don’t appreciate being woken up at 01:00. Which is pretty unfair, as I know they don’t like it, so I try not to, and that just stresses me out. Then He’s so stupid he just lets me in the back garden. What the hell use is that? This is an emergency! The Time is NOW dammit, and this is most certainly not the Place!
I try to communicate as best I can, by running around frantically eating grass. Not the puking kind of grass, just the regular little bits. Hell’s teeth man, can’t you see I need a poo? I know, I’m in the garden, that’s the problem! For the record, swearing at me does not help.
Eventually the idiot gets the message, and goes to get dressed. Then He has the temerity to be grumpy with me that we need to go on a walk at 01:30. It’s hardly my fault! Why must They be so fixated about night-time? All of this makes a dog pretty fed-up – it’s not easy living with folk who are so slow on the uptake – so to press the point home I make sure we’ve done a good mile and a half before deciding that Time and Place are in appropriate alignment. It’s not easy holding on, quite frankly, but sometimes you just have to make these personal sacrifices to try to help others improve themselves and their understanding of the world.
Although it doesn’t seem to do much good. Instead of Their understanding that there is a Time for Everything, and Everything should be done in its Time, for the next week my bedtime walk becomes an extended lecture on the need to make my Everything fit into Their Time, and the fact that there will be no “bonus walks” (the cheek!) at “stupid o’clock” (which isn’t even a proper time, I checked). They are soooooooooooo slooooooooooooow.
No idea why they can’t just chill out and let stuff happen when it happens. There’s a Time and a Place for Everything, after all. Mostly outside the posh houses, in my book.
¹With apologies to the late Roy Castle.