A Kid In A Fur Coat!

I've Said This Before
Although it bears repeating as it's a truism: looking after your pet solo is like looking after a small child wearing a fur coat.  This is my current circumstance, dogsitting solo.
     Point the First: They always wish to be the centre of attention

Edna, on her human bed

     You, as The Owner (or parent) exist primarily to entertain and divert the pet, never mind anything else you might intend or plan to do.  This above was me watching Saturday morning television, vegging out over NCIS whilst doing a bit of reading and note-taking.  I had compromised by vacating the PC stool and come downstairs to sit on the sofa, so that Madame could either lie next to or upon me.

What I wanted to work on.
"Useless human time-wasting," according to Edna.

     Point the Second:  You can never pay them too much attention.
     Indeed, the concept of "too much" does not exist to your pet.  After thirty minutes of being a comfortable cushion, then a fifteen minute walk - in weather like this -

 - that is,  WET.

     I then had to endure another thirty minutes of "Throw the ball" interspersed with "Throw the ball - if you can drag it from my steely canines first".  And if I neglected to pay that oh-so-presumed attention, I got headbutts on the leg to remind me that Edna was still there, still waiting.
     Point the Third:  If it's quiet, they're up to mischief.
     The only time this doesn't apply is when they're asleep, as with children.  If I'm tapping away on the keyboard, as I am doing this very second, and Edna is not visible, then I worry about where she is and what she's doing.  Usually sulking in the hall, but you can't take that for granted.  Is the back door open?  Is she tearing up paper downstairs?  Is she digging up the carpet in the corner?  Where is the cat?  Are they secretly in league together?

A "Rob-ism" Is A Real Thing
If you have been reading this blog carefully over the past two and a half years*, then you know that my Sunday-best name amongst the humans of this world is "Rob".  Pay attention, this matters.
     So, at work there was a competition to create a one-line mission statement for our branch of my Mighty Yet Anonymous Employer.  Half a dozen ironic, slanderous and rude ones came to mind immediately, yet I persevered and came up with the following:

"Providing resolutions, solutions and problem diminutions, to the very best of our professional constitution."

     I mentioned this in passing to Anthony.
     "Ah!' quoth he.  "A Rob-ism!"
     Just so you know.


I Say I Say!  This Borders On "Doing Okay"
I refer to the Feebs, those idiots over at Facebook who recommend wildly inappropriate "Suggested Posts" along the lines of musical artists I've never heard of, cars or log-counting software.
     Given the Law of Very Large Numbers, even mewling, puling <thinks> drooling idiots like the Feebs get it right once in a while, as this screenshot proves:

About "Callan"

     For your information, "Callan" was an excellent drama series about the down-at-heel spy Callan, his associate Lofty, Toby Meres, Hunter and (usually) the bally Ruskies.  He was described as a "grey, gadgetless Bond" - or, in other words, realistic.  No gadgets, no scantily-clad ladies, no sign of THRUSH**, and the opponents were fearfully hard Muscovites who weren't even kind to their mothers.

"Bisabolol"
I'm throwing this out there just to see what you'd make of it without any context or preamble.  It could be:
     
     1)  A sport from the Phillipines
     2)  African language as spoken in sub-Saharan Africa
     3)  Herbal mix used in Spanish seafood dishes
     4)  Indie art-rock jazz ensenble from Sheffield

      Or - none of the above***!

     In fact it's a chemical compound, used in cosmetics as it has significant skin-healing properties, in addition to being anti-inflammatory and helping other compounds be absorbed through the skin.


     From that bottle of balm:

Going Off At A Tangent
You ought to be used to this by now so Conrad's not going to apologise.  Instead I shall cast critical brickbats and rutabagas^ upon that Japanese horror fillum "The Ring".

Mark, you were wrong

     Mark Kermode, a chap who gets a perpetual "Get Out Of Jail Free" card due to being as big a fan of The Comsat Angels as I am, got it wrong this time, warning you the viewer how terrifying this bit of Whoever-It-Is crawling out of the television is.
     No it's not!  It looks ludicrous.
     It was done to much greater effect by the author M R James, in his "Ghost Stories of an Antiquary", although because he wrote his stories before television, so you have to (gasp!  shudder!) use your imagination.  There's "The Mezzotint" for one, and "Mr Humphreys and his inheritance".
     Here's a link to the free text at Project Gutenberg:

http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/8486/pg8486-images.html

     And now a warning.  Don't read alone, at night, if you are easily disturbed or any combination of these three.  Especially not this time next Saturday^^.

"The Mezzotint"
Not a happy ending

* If you haven't, better get a creative excuse ready
** Yes, yes, I know they're from "The Man From UNCLE"; I have to check that some of you are awake.
*** I know, I know, I'm a stinker.
^ Or "Turnip" to everyone not South Canadian
^^ Which, in case you have missed it, will be Halloween.