Ex Kiwis---Kwassies, or whatever you wish to be----read and share my blogs!

This is a call to all Kiwis, ex-Kiwis or whatever name you choose------I need you. I need you to spread my blog, my website and links to my books. Heck---there are enough of you there, although I hear many of you are coming back to your roots, back here in NZ! If you have been reading my blogs, you will no doubt have connected with some, agreed with a few and downright wanted to 'sort me out' re some of them. I'd like to say, I never meant to offend, but in some cases that would be a big lie, beyond the legendary black stump, a step too far. NZ and Aussie share much, many attitudes but there are some great dividers, not all related to sports. So---keep reading, sharing my blogs, downloading the eBooks and better still pushing my books. Just go to my website. I need this in order to write some more. I am 'do it yourself' publisher of my works, so it I need all the people power on my side, particularly Kiwis in Aussie. Cheers! www.authorneilcoleman.com

Just another doggie story by Perdy!

‘Wake up! Now---not tomorrow. It’s light outside, ya lazy bugger!’ ‘Piss off, Perdy---just because you have slept for 10 ours---straight.’ ‘Well you’re the one insisting I go to doggie care. I don’t sleep much there---got to maintain my ‘position.’ ‘Yeah head bitch, eh girl. Ewwwww—that was full tongue---get away!’ That’s how things are here at home, people---every day during the week. I get to go to doggie care and he gets to bring home the bacon. I play---actually I am not gonna give away my secrets about what happens at doggie care. What happens at doggie care, stays in doggie care—thems the rules. Each day sort of starts the same, except on ‘pissing down days,’ when I would prefer to stay home and watch God’s bullets as they bounce off the office roof---from my safe place, behind the big glass windows. I don’t even like the cat-door being open---something may come in---not a cat of course! Speaking of cats---that furry bundle of fatness moved out long ago. Hell---all I did was chase her---a bit, and she ran---and kept going. Now she taunts me from her ‘safe place,’ beyond the fence. One day, you know who, will leave the gate ajar---then----well that’s another dream to come true. He gets his breakfast and if I am lucky, I am the recipient of a miserly piece of bacon---his reasoning? ---it’s not good for me. Shite---what about you dude! Oh, I am forgetting---he isn’t fat no more---as he keeps reminding me. We both look at ‘the cat’ outside---looking back at us---man---she is humongous! She’s the one who needs Bariatric Surgery! So, he’s showered, fed, ‘abluted’ and pigged-out’ on the news, so it’s game-time. I run outside, pretending I ain’t going nowhere. Why do I do that? It’s always the same. He gives me a treat to come inside and jump on the couch so he can pick me up and put me in the car, where I get another small offering from the ‘car-stash.’ Man---who’s trained who here? I chuck in an extra or wiggle or two, just to add a bit of realism. He sticks on the news, or in my view some opinionated twat who thinks he knows everything! This is the time, I try to give him the ‘guilts.’ I do this weird trembling thing. He thinks I don’t really want to go and tries to assuage that feeling by being nice to me. Damn I’m good at that. I quite like going to doggie care, but I don’t want him assuming that it is going to happen in his ‘holidays.’ He belongs to me then and it’s trip day, every day, preferably---all day! We head down the big hill, and travel alongside my favorite place---the ‘bay,’ where ti all happens. I have heaps of friends there, and it’s off the bloody leash-----freedom, to sniff, chase Pukekos (even on the motorway once!) I love to roll in the stink things, get down and dirty, swim, and above all---chase the ball---my orange ball. Sure, I share it with my mates. I’m not possessive like some of them. The ‘Bay’ is soon behind us and it off the motorway. I know that if we go past a certain point---we are going elsewhere, but usually I can tell---the lead up is all different. There is a place on the way to the doggie care that stinks really badly some days---well he thinks it is, because I notice him scrunching up his nose. I heard him say to a passenger once, that ‘all the shit from Auckland goes there!’ Sounds like a cool place to play! Next we are driving really slowly---it’s a village—with lots of white flags and signs saying—‘save our village,’ and a whole lot of other stuff. Buggered if I know what that is all about, but he seems to agree with them. Finally---the drive appears and we pull into the car park. He invites me to ‘go toilet,’ I do---not because he says so though. I’ll piss when I want and as for the other, I’m not damned ready! He has me on a lead—what’s he think I’m gonna do-----feck off or something? Nah---it’s inside where I can begin my ‘secret day.’ He threatens to put a ‘go-pro on me,’ whatever the hell that is, so he can spy on me. I think he’s jealous, because one of the ‘special people’ there, really likes me. At the end of the day (Where have I heard that before?) I always make sure to go back and give that ‘care-giver’ an extra kiss—just to remind Daddy, that there are other people out there, who love Jack Russells! OH OK, I do let up on him. Once he has given me a treat for being a good girl, I curl up on the back window parcel shelf and watch the world go by-----and go to sleep---until dinner time. It’s the weekend tomorrow. Adventure time—even better than doggie care.