Blogging from the garden on the new woofi network

Great news for the summer: I'm going to be able to blog from the garden. Dad can type for me using the new laptop connected wirelessly to my blog using his new woofi network.

Or at least, I think that's what he called it.

I'm not certain why it's called a "woofi" network. At first I thought it was in my honour. But no one calls me "woofi" except my grandad. And mum says that's 'cos he's forgetful and can't remember my name.

Dad never calls me "woofi". And he knows my name because he uses it all the time:

"Mojo no."

"Mojo off."

"Mojo stop barking."

So I figure it must be something to do with the whole wireless thing. The laptop must communicate with my blog using woofs and barks - just like us dogs do, from one garden to another.

So I've resolved to help dad out with this as much as I can. I'm going to keep the woofi network topped up by barking as much as possible. Every time I'm out in the garden, I'll bark and bark at nothing in particular.

Of course, I do this anyway. But now I have a reason, and that makes it even more fun.

Boo hoo hoo!

I miss my mum. She's gone away for five whole weeks and I really, really miss her. It's only been a couple of days. She won't be back for ages!

The house just seems so quiet without her. I'm doing a lot of barking at the moment, just to fill the silence. Dad joins in too, although sometimes it sounds like he's shouting at me. That can't be the case, though. I mean, why would he?

Dad's been trying to make it up to me. He's been giving me extra walks 'cos he thinks I'll be easier to deal with. Ha! We'll see who wins that particular battle, won't we. I got him good and proper yesterday. He took me for a run in the morning, then put me in a crate and went to play tennis - for TWO WHOLE HOURS. So, he was running around while I was resting. When he got back, all tired and everything, did I give him hell?

What do you think?

He had to play in the garden, then down the field with the tennis balls, and then had to take me on a big walk. He was exhausted by the end of the day, but I was still up for more mischief. Last time he tries that, I reckon.

So, anyway, Dad's typing for me while mum's away, so if I sound a bit different don't worry. I've not got a cold or anything. It's just Dad. It's the way he types.

He's obviously feeling guilty about Mum going away as he's been trying to make it up to me. He took me shopping the other day and we got a new toy.

I love it. And I hate it.

I love it because it's really light and bouncy and dad kicks it up in the air. It's good to chase but never goes too far.

I hate it because I can't get it in my mouth. I can't quite get my teeth around it. I can't quite.... growwwhhh. But I'll keep trying. I'll keep trying. I'll keep trying. I'll keep trying.

I'm a terrier, you know.

you have to see this

Next time your humans accuse you of shedding too much hair, tell them read this and get busy:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/tyne/7304452.stm

I wonder if that much of my hair will still be on the carpet 12 years after I die?

what? where?

I'd rather be telling you how pleased I am to be lounging on Mum & Dad's bed. And I'd rather you took a moment to admire my special bedhead moustache.

But instead you get my OH MY DOG face.


Mum just told me something she's known for ages. She's off to Australia for 5 weeks, and she's going on Friday. This is terrible!

Who's going to give me those shoulder massages that send me all droopy? Who's going to give me butt scritches that make me pull pointy grinning faces? Who's going to tell me I'm a beautiful girly a hundred times a day? *sob* I bet the cats won't even come out of the bedroom to stare at me through the puppy gate without Mum as a peacekeeping force. I hate her I hate her I hate her.

Now don't get me wrong; I love my Dad too. And as he works from home he gets to be my personal butler all day and night. But I have a horrible feeling he will want to go and have a life at some point - like play a game of tennis - and that means I'll be put in my crate. I'm 11 months old tomorrow and the longest they have ever left me is 2 hours.

Talking of my age, I'm going to have my 1st birthday and Mum WON'T EVEN BE THERE.

I hope you feel duly sorry for me.

Mum here:
Oh boy do I feel guilty. And I haven't even told the cats yet. I'm off on a marvellous trip and I feel really bad about leaving the furry monsters behind (that includes the man). Fingers crossed the man will be able to get some rest in between his heavy workload and his butler duties. Fingers crossed the cats don't need to be administered tablets for any reason. Fingers crossed they don't all vote to change the locks while I'm gone.

I'm going to be crossing the continent from Darwin down to Adelaide, right through the red heart of the country and right to the heart of a unfulfilled wish from when I was a 7-year-old. I'll be the palest, oldest, plumpest backpacker on the trip but that's just fine with me!

I'm bravely handing over the blog password to the man so he can carry on posting on Mojo's behalf - if he finds a moment's peace. I'll be able to get my pup fix on the move. All we have to do now is find a way to get Mojo to wear a headset without chewing it and we'll be able to Skype each other too!

I'll have a mountain of catching up to do when I get back, but I hope you all stay healthy, happy and wise.

Winter goes on and on

Winter can be so dreary.

But I'm always a bag of laughs.

Especially when we get a bit of sunshine and a mad run around. Very rarely, I get worn out:

But usually I just keep running and running.

Sometimes I have fat legs.


And sometimes I have thin legs.

But I'm always pack leader.

snapshot

A few minutes ago the conversation went like this:


Mum: Wow, there's a sparrowhawk sitting on the garden fence.

Mojo: Wow, Mum is eating a chicken and ham slice.

Mum: (grabbing camera) If I get to the other window I might be able to catch a photo.

Mojo: (grabbing pie) Mmmm nom nom nom

Mum: NO! BAD GIRL!

Mojo: Why don't you swap out the 70mm lens for the 300mm one?

Mum: Good idea.

Mojo: nom nom nom

Mum: OY!!!

Mojo: I was only cleaning up the crumbs I dropped the first time.

Mum: Aw, now look - the bird's gone.

Mojo: Still a bit of pie left. You won't want it now it's got fluff from the floor stuck to it.

Mum: Want a bet?

Mojo: Anyway, that's a really blurry shot.

Mum: That's because I was shooting through a window covered in dog nose marks.

Mojo: Blame me for everything, why don't you? Just because I chased that pheasant across the field this morning, and yeah, OK, I did run off and swim a stream the other day to chase a deer, but it was running off anyway, and sure, I've dug all the stuffing out of the futon again and I can't help it if my puppy farts are so evil you want to get out of the car and let me drive myself home. But you're just having a bad photography day and it's not my fault.

Mum: (sigh) I know. And you're so cute.