Posted by: docdenbow | May 31, 2012

Boo Boo, Chubs, The Dook, H & Itchy Legs


Mrs Denbow, our youngest daughter and myself took a little stroll into Clyne Woods on late Sunday afternoon. We took the dogs, AKA Boo Boo, Chubs and The Dook, for a walk there as it’s shaded and they, like us, really enjoy the “middle of nowhere” feel that it has – even though it’s less than 5 minutes walk from where Mrs Denbow and I reside. Our daughter’s significant other stayed behind with my mother in law and avoided boredom by playing games on his PSP as he doesn’t like, or can cope with, the summer due to chronic hayfever. He really likes computer style games though , practically living in a virtual world of X-Box’s making and thus putting his Ph.D in very difficult sums to good use I would think whilst blowing various things up.

Anyway enough of that. So there we were in Clyne Woods chucking various bits of the woods around for the dogs to chase when we were joined by H, a particularly bonkers Jack Russell Terrier. Oh, I forgot to mention that Boo Boo and Chubs are Collies and The Dook is half Miniature Schnauzer and half Jack Russell. I really should bung some pictures up for you to see them. So much stick chucking ensued including the throwing of a specialist dog stick made by Kong.

As you can see this is a dog toy that 2 girls sharing a flat really shouldn’t buy, even if they have pet dogs. Not really a good idea at all. You see, its’ general shape and robust construction puts you in mind, at least if you’re a bit pervy, of the sort of specialist equipment that, how shall we say it, ladies from Lesbos may purchase in order to while away long winter evenings. That being said it’s fantastic for chucking for this mini pack of dogs to chase after. (All of them, all at the same time!) Boo Boo, due to his great speed always reached the sticks first. However, H always managed to “persuade” Boo Boo to give the stick to him so that he could coming back with it. Chubs was largely disinterested after a few throws and The Dook decided to go a make use of the woods’ toilet facilities.

We were about to head off home when H’s owner asked whether The Dook (who had by now returned) could swim. I told her that she (The Dook) had never really tried. It turns out that H is a veritable water baby (or puppy or dog) and yet another stick was bunged, this time into a pretty deep part of the stream near to where we were standing. In he went his little legs a whirl and he jumped out a returned the stick and barked and let out a little howl as usual. Well, I was not going to see my Dook outdone was I. So I clambered down beside the deep bit of this stream and damn nearly broke my neck into the bargain and collected a few likely looking sticks together.The Dook and H followed me down, as did Chubs. Meanwhile Boo Boo was chasing the rubber “marital aid” being thrown by my daughter. Mrs Denbow sensibly stayed on the little bridge.

Standing in the middle of the stream on a small sort of island I started to chuck sticks to encourage the hounds into the “drink.” H had no issue throwing himself in with an abandon that these days we can’t possibly call “gay.” The Dook sort of paddled a bit but was very unsure of herself. Chubs on the other hand was quite happy to wade in as he is pretty big and there was no need for him to swim as the water isn’t deep enough. With three dogs and and a stream this here Doc was getting, as they say, damp. In fact I was getting damp with every stick I threw (sometimes three at a time) mainly because each dog insisted on bringing them back to me and then doing that special wet doggie shake.

Two momentous things happened. The first was that The Dook did actually swim, not much but swim she did. The second involved Chubs. I made a grave error of judgement. I forgot that he was standing behind me and tossed the sticks back into the water. The Dook and H set off like a couple of good uns. Chubs decided to go after them as well. But Chubs being Chubs he decided not to run around me. No that would be too simple for Chubs. He decided to run through me. If I didn’t possess the poise and balance of say Lionel Messi or a poncey ballet dancer I would have gone arse over tit and gone face first into either the rocks or the water. I’m very glad to say that I managed to avoid that fate and there was no damage done.

After this near miss with this veritable torrent of water we decided to make our way back and set off for an eventful stroll along the path to the big iron gates that leads onto the road to home. It was when we got onto the road I noticed that Mrs Denbow was having a sly little scratch of her legs. I have to admit mine were itching a bit bit as well but being a tough guy I resisted the urge to roll around on the floor screaming in pain.

When the mother in law, daughter and significant other had left (taking Boo Boo and Chubs) we sat down to watch Sunday evenings’ usual crap on the telly. Mrs Denbow at this stage was getting just a wee bit tetchy and probably with good cause as it appeared that someone had had a go at her shins with a cheese grater. A generous blob of Eurax was applied and this eased the pain and discomfort for her. For myself I had what I can only describe as “tingly shins.” Nothing to worry about at all. Just a hazard of a stroll in a country park wearing rather tragic shorts.

But she of the cheese gratered legs had found it impossible to sleep such was the the pain and discomfort that she was out of bed at 2:30 a.m. bathing her legs and adding more Eurax. Fortunately for me me I slept like the proverbial log and awoke the next morning with nary an itch. My legs did (or still do) look quite interesting as my mate Stephen Fry would say, as you can see here.

So if anyone can advise whether this is life threatening then I would be forever in your debt. I would also like to know what the name of the thing or things are called that bit me and Mrs Denbow so that I could make a deal with someone to wipe the little bastards out.

Ciao For Now Stickchuckers

Denbow

P.S. if you do read this  Jo, I advise caution when exposing flesh in those there woods.

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Responses

  1. Nature is a bitch. One of my lads at work was complaining that he had been “bitten” on his backside. Giggling I told him to stop being a “jessie”. He promptly turned around and dropped his pants, showing me his arse. I must say I was alarmed, not by the sight of another man’s arse but by the enormous lump, easily the size of a golf ball, glowing angrily on his bumcheek.
    I suggested he go and report it to our first aider, Corrine. Coz is one of those “ladies of Lesbos” you mention, so looking at a 23 year old blokes bottom wouldn’t bother her remotely. So he did and she referred him to Hospital.
    On his return to work the following evening he boasted of the fit young nurse he’d shown his bottom to at hospital and how a Doctor had shoved a hyperdermic of antibiotics in his buttock.
    Obviously his team mates thought this hysterical. Telling him gleefully that it “wasn’t an insect bite” but was “AIDS” that he caught whilst being “bummed by his Dad”. Much frivolity followed. The young lad in question told them all to “fuck off” and they all went to work.
    My point, if I had one, would be that nature is not nice and frilly. She is a cruel mistress who will happily bite you on the arse.

    UP THE WOLVES!!!


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