“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”
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I was walking through the house
the other day with my camera
when I spotted the cat lying on a sofa.
“Hi there.” I said. “Whatya doin?”
“Just chilling out here on the sofa,’” she said.
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“I have a joke for you,” I said.
So I told her a joke.
It must have been a good one,
my how she laughed.
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Then I asked,
“Mind if I take your photo?”
“Oh no, no way,” she replied.
“I haven’t combed my fur or anything.”
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“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”
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How often have you seen “The Opportunity Of A Lifetime” pop up on the internet or in your email?
This time it’s different, though.
This time it’s true!
Well, sort of.
Because this is your chance to own what is possibly the stupidest dog in the world.
And it won’t cost you anything either, we’re giving him away to the first good home
FOR FREE!!!
If you are stupid, and you want a companion at least as stupid as you are, if not more so, this is the perfect dog for you.
His name is ‘Scotty’, (and, yes, I have asked to be “beamed up” several times), but don’t let the name put you off.
You can call him anything you like, ‘Rover’, ‘Patch’, ‘Lassie’, ‘Monday’, ‘Tuesday’, ‘Wednesday’, ‘November’, or whatever, because it’s all the same to him – this dog is so dumb he doesn’t even know his own name.
His lack of knowledge is on such a vast scale I’m astounded the known Universe is expanding rapidly enough to contain it.
He doesn’t know how to sit. He doesn’t know how to stay. He doesn’t know how to come, or to stop, or to heel, or anything you can teach a normal dog to do.
He just doesn’t know anything.
And you won’t have to waste your time and money training him either, because this dog just cannot learn. Believe me I have done my best!
He is painfully stupid in at least the four different languages we have tried. He doesn’t speak English, nor does he hablar español, he hasn’t a clue how to parler francais, and you might as well try to speak klingon as sprechen Deutsch to him.
A big plus is that he is small and won’t eat you out of house and home. All you have to remember to do is buy cat food and not dog food and you’ll be fine. The cat beats him up every time he eats her food, but he doesn’t learn from that either. I don’t think he even knows he’s a dog.
The only one thing he has learned, is not to shit in the house, but in truth I think this has more to do with the fact that every time he tried he discovered he couldn’t with my toe up his arse.
He barks at strangers, which is good. And if he left it at that we wouldn’t mind.
But he also barks at people he knows, or rather, people he should know if he had the brains to remember who they were, which he hasn’t.
And some of the time he barks at nothing at all. It can go on for ages because, when he does bark at nothing, he must hear his own bark, think it’s another dog, and off he goes. Sometimes you can look at his face and watch him trying to figure it out.
“Woof!”
“Who said that? Grrrrr.”
“Woof!”
“There it is again!”
“Woof! Snarl.”
“WTF?”
“Woof! Woof! Woof!”
“There’s another dog here somewhere.”
“Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!”
And on it goes for a while, until it stops for no reason, the same way it started.
He also doesn’t know his left back leg belongs to him. When he notices it is there, he attacks it as if it is another animal trying to insert itself into his leg socket. I’ve seen other dogs chasing their tail, but this is just ridiculous.
Finally, every time the front gate is opened, he has taken to running down the street after bicycles and motorbikes – that he doesn’t know how to ride – and after cars and other vehicles – that he doesn’t know how to drive. What he would do with them if he ever caught one I just don’t know! Neither does he, but he does it anyway.
Somehow, and I find this rather incredible – and disappointing – he has always managed to find his way back home. I think it’s because he tries every other house on the way back and we are the only one silly enough to let him back in. I’ve told everyone to pretend they don’t know him when he turns up and he’ll just move on to the next house and then next, but they won’t listen to me.
So come on good people of the blogsphere, which of you is going to take advantage of this incredible opportunity of a lifetime?
You know how much I love dogs, I’ve said so before on this blog, but please get in touch as soon as you can and take this stupid dog off our hands before I crack up completely!
My father gave me a lot of good advice, and one of the things he told me many years ago was never to get a dog whose arsehole was bigger than its brain.
I should have listened!
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“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”
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I feel a bit of a Sunday Sermon coming on, if I get the time to write it.
But for today something a lot lighter and hopefully amusing.
It’s a second helping of our animal friends. They are fun.
Enjoy.
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“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”
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Time to relax for the weekend.
Here are a few funny animal fotos to help.
Some are natural shots, others have been helped a little with human input but I hope you find most of them amusing.
Enjoy.
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”Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”
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As I’ve said before on this blog, I’m a doggie person, but I know that there are a lot of people out there who like cats. However, I don’t think any of them could have liked the cat that is the subject of this post.
It happed a few years ago when a colleague and myself were on a business trip that included a visit to a small town in West Virginia. It was a lovely little town, called Rednecksville (I won’t tell you it’s real name so as to protect the guilty), full of lovely, very friendly and hospitable people.
During the time we happened to be there they held a local fair come flea market where people from the town and the surrounding countryside would gather. Some set up stalls to sell their home crafted goods, others, like myself just went along to see what was on offer and perhaps buy a few trinkets as gifts.
But, whilst the experience itself was enjoyable, the items that were on sale left a whole lot to be desired. They were quite unbelievably crudely made.
There was a guy with what I think were supposed to bird nesting boxes and/or feeders, but they looked more like an old plank of wood with a bit of drain pipe nailed to it. (It looked like that because that’s what it was, lol)
Other stalls were selling home made jewelry in what you could only call primitive style.
And yet more had bits of metal junk.
Surprisingly one of the junk stalls seemed to be doing good business, selling big rusty nuts and bolts and bits of chain and so forth. On second thoughts perhaps not so surprisingly since this was a largely rural community and new uses can always be found for stuff like that.
I smiled quietly to myself as I wondered if the bird box guy had been a customer of this stall the last time they had the fair.
At another stall a woman was selling some stuffed toys/animals she had very obviously made herself. None of them were good, but some were just downright awful.
For some reason best known to himself my colleague chose to buy a stuffed cat for his wife. He was getting on in years and had been married a long time, but in all those years he never had any idea about women or what they would like – and that was especially so in regard to his wife, although in his defense I have to say that she didn’t seem to like anything he did very much.
To my utter amazement he choose the most unusual stuffed cat I have ever seen. It wasn’t that it looked ugly as such, or that it was badly made. This thing looked pure evil. And no matter where you would be standing it always seemed to be looking right at you, or through you.
It was terrible, horrendous, occultish. If Steven King had been there he’d have written a book about it for sure. If Vincent Price had been holding it in some horror movie set it might have looked more acceptable. Or if we had been in Haiti, I could have understood it if it was supposed to be some voodoo ritual piece. But this was right in the middle of good old evangelical Christian Bible Belt America. This was no place for the cat from hell.
“What do you think?” he asked, proudly showing me his new purchase.
“I hate it!” I told him in no uncertain terms. “What the hell did you buy that thing for?”
He seemed rather miffed.
He must have been more miffed when he got it home. Needless to say his wife hated it. Wouldn’t give it house room at all. And I’m sure she made her feelings very clear to him, as she usually did about almost everything.
So he gave it to his daughter.
She hated it. Didn’t want it near her house either.
So he gave it to his daughter-in-law.
She hated it. She was actually scared out of her wits by it.
So he gave it to his grand-daughter.
She hated it. Started to cry, I believe.
So he put in the trunk of the car and brought it to his office the next day.
His secretary hated it, too. Wouldn’t have it near the office.
So back in the trunk it went.
Eventually he must have got to hate it too because it disappeared never to be seen again.
And the weirdest bit of all….
I photographed him with it when he bought it and I would have attached it to this blog post except for one thing – the photo is nowhere to be found!
That was one weird cat!
“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”
I’ve said before that I’m a doggie person. But we have a cat and a dog that thinks it’s a cat, so I don’t mind having a cat around the place either – except when it decides to attack the birds in the garden. Then there is a heated dispute.
Having said that, however I’m not so sure that I would like a cat like Oscar around. Certainly the people I was talking about yesterday in the post about Harry Meadows and the Home for the Elderly might get a little nervous!
You see, Oscar the cat seems to have an uncanny knack for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling up next to them during their final hours. His accuracy, observed in twenty-five cases, has led the staff at the Home to call family members once he has chosen someone. It usually means they have less than four hours to live.
“He doesn’t make too many mistakes. He seems to understand when patients are about to die,” said Dr. David Dosa a geriatrician and assistant professor of medicine at Brown University. “Many family members take some solace from it. They appreciate the companionship that the cat provides for their dying loved one,” said Dosa.
Oscar was adopted as a kitten and grew up in a third-floor dementia unit at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island. The facility treats people with Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s disease and other illnesses.
After about six months, the staff noticed Oscar would make his own rounds, just like the doctors and nurses. He’d sniff and observe patients, then sit beside people who would wind up dying in a few hours.
Dosa said Oscar seems to take his work seriously and is generally aloof. “This is not a cat that’s friendly to people,” he said.
Oscar is better at predicting death than the people who work there, said Dr. Joan Teno of Brown University, who treats patients at the nursing home and is an expert on care for the terminally ill
She was convinced of Oscar’s talent when he made his 13th correct call. While observing one patient, Teno said she noticed the woman wasn’t eating, was breathing with difficulty and that her legs had a bluish tinge, signs that often mean death is near.
Oscar wouldn’t stay inside the room though, so Teno thought his streak was broken. Instead, it turned out the doctor’s prediction was roughly ten hours too early. Sure enough, during the patient’s final two hours, nurses told Teno that Oscar joined the woman at her bedside.
Doctors say most of the people who get a visit from the sweet-faced, gray-and-white cat are so ill they probably don’t know he’s there, so patients aren’t aware he’s a harbinger of death. Most families are grateful for the advanced warning, although one wanted Oscar out of the room while a family member died. When Oscar is put outside, he paces and meows his displeasure.
No one’s certain if Oscar’s behavior is scientifically significant or points to a cause. Teno wonders if the cat notices telltale scents or reads something into the behavior of the nurses who raised him.
So is Oscar really is a furry grim reaper? No one is saying for sure but he did recently received a wall plaque publicly commending his “compassionate hospice care.”
fasab 