So my PC has been giving me real gip. It no longer recognised my USB devices and my digital audio interface was acting up, so no recording was successful. I’ve reinstalled WinXP a number of times to no success, but I think I got it right last night. I can now reinstall the operating system and have all my applications back in place in under two hours. Whoopsie fricking do!
Because I’ve been reinstalling WinXP, Microsoft think I am a pirate and instead of reactivating the software, I had to call them up and speak to some Eastern European lady with a thick accent I couldn’t understand who gave me a 20-digit code to enter into the software to unlock it properly. Isn’t modern technology wonderful? The upshot is that I think (fingers crossed) that my PC is back to normal and that I might actually be able to record again soon without pops and crackles appearing on my audio like a milk float crashing into a Rice Krispie Convention.
Last night, a neighbour knocked to tell us that our car had been broken into. Luckily, it wasn’t our car but someone else’s who had parked close to our car. Confused? Anyway, The Missus did the neighbourly thing and knocked at the next neighbours to see if the car had belonged to them or their friends. It didn’t. Later, when we going out for late night walkies, the victim was there with a group inspecting the damage. We told them that Alex the Wonderdog barked up a storm at about 9pm. It looked as if nothing had been stolen and that the window had just been smashed. Perhaps, Alex the Wonderdog’s barking had disturbed the thieving scumbag. The older gentlemen who I took to be the father of the girl who owned the car explained that he lived down the road and mentioned something about “coons”. All my feelings of sympathy soon dissipated. Saying that, we actually got a Anti-BNP newspaper delivered on Saturday. I thanked the old gentlemen who was delivering them and told him to keep up the good work. The old chap looked kind of scared…I’m not surprised.
Meanwhile, my loyal reader will be heartened to know that Alex the Wonderdog has made an amazing recovery. His bruises have almost gone, his wounds healed and he is barking at every noise. Still doesn’t enjoy walking, but I’m not going to let him play the sympathy vote against. My thumb is still sore though. 🙁
All say “aaahhhh” at Darren’s sore thumb…
Category: Diary
Every so often a new headline comes along and makes you go: “Eh?” Here’s another entrant in our non-too-serious competition “Headline of the Year”
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/norfolk/4845210.stm
Mind boggled.
I am not sure if you are thinking: “How comes Darren isn’t recording anymore?” Probably not. My solitary reader is probably wondering when I am going to post some revealing pictures of myself in a desperate attempt to increase traffic. It’s never gonna happen, baby. But back to my initial preamble, my PC hasn’t been well. I reinstalled WinXP yet again only to discover that the same self issue presented itself with SONAR adding all manner of clicks, pops and burps to anything I tried to record. I have tweaked, prodded, pulled, smacked, whacked, thrakked and bashed the damn thing, but still the problem persists. G’ah! I feel like breaking something. I seem to be going through a phase where everything seems to be a problem. I just want to turn on, plug in and record and not have all this hassle. I’ve been thinking about dumping the PC and getting a hardware multitrack recorder, but alas, the cost is prohibitive and the computer has more going for it in terms of what you can do with your audio. Oh well, bite your lip and stop whimpering, you big girl.
Alex the Wonderdog is improving. The foul flatulence caused by the anaesthetic from his visit to the Vet has almost gone. I awoke on Friday morning thinking that I had accidentally set my bed in a Victorian sewer. The Missus was convinced that the White Trumper had made a whoopsie on the bedroom floor. Luckily, the wind is now blowing in the other direction, as it were.
More stories of woe are filtering back to me via the Lock Information Network Dispersal Agent (or L.I.N.D.A. – only The Missus will get that joke) and it seems that at least three other dogs have been attacked by the Mastiff that lives in Colebrook Lane. One Staffordshire Bull Terrier managed to get the upper hand on the larger dog and took a bite out of it, but there does seem to be a pattern emerging of dog attacks and from what I’ve heard it might be deliberate. It seems that Mr M G of Colebrook Lane isn’t a particularly well-liked chap in the area. I made another report of the incident to the RSCPA, but I doubt anything will come of it. All the authorities will say is “don’t do it again, Mr G” and the rest of us dog owners will just have to take care not to be in the wrong place at the wrong time again. Why is life like that? Answers on a postcard, please.
Tomorrow night is my first music gig of 2006. I was a bit worried about leaving Alex at home but my mum’s friend is going to dog sit with him. They get on well with each other so that’s just fine. Whodathunkit…a babysitter for a dog, eh? What’s that all about? Anyways, I’ve been looking forward to this for a while. I’ll cobble together a review for all you internet googlers looking for a quick gig fix.
A partly disturbed sleep. From about 4am, Alex the Wonderdog began crying and whimpering. Obviously the painkillers had worn off. It was a pitiful noise and not very conducive to a restful sleep. At one point, he wanted to get up on the bed with us, but I told him it would have been too painful for him to be lifted on the bed. He spent the rest of the morning groaning, sighing and crying. At the moment, he is more settled as he has had his first lot of tablets for the day.
My sources reveal that the dog that did this has attacked a number of other animals in the district. So we are not alone. I spoke to the council dog warden yesterday and he said as this was a civil matter all that they could do was send them a letter telling them to control their animal. Gee, that’s going to make a lot of difference, isn’t it? If the damn dog had bitten me, I could get it destroyed, but because Alex is regarded as “property” and not a living, breathing entity, there are no rights for him. My mother suggested contacting the RSPCA, but I doubt they’ll give me the solution I am looking for. It’s only a matter of time before that dog kills another dog or attacks a person – and the owner doesn’t give a shit. If he had got Alex by the throat he’d have been a goner. I keep running through the event in my head and I wish I could have done more damage to the other dog. I feel that I have let Alex down by my complete incapacity to get justice for him. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the other guy had shown some sympathy or actually tried to intervene, but he didn’t. As we walked Cappy the Yorkshire Terrier last night, we went to the point where it happened and the mind’s eye has a habit of re-running the footage. The Missus spoke how she saw the other owner standing on the corner just watching for a moment, not even moving forward. The more I think about it, the more I think it was deliberate and the angrier I am becoming.
But what to do? What can I do for Alex? At the moment, I can only make him comfortable and help him recover. I thought of making some posters to stick around by the poop-bins to warn other dog owners because this is the responsible thing to do, but I doubt I’ll stick it because I reckon I am going to get the crap kicked out of me again. I now have the name, address and telephone number of the owner, but what use is this when the law doesn’t protect dogs?
Thank you M G, the mastiff owner of Colebrook Lane for the unnecessary pain and suffering you have inflicted on me and my family.
We got him back from the vet. Thankfully, the injuries weren’t as bad as they first thought, but he is still badly bruised and has several puncture wounds. Luckily, no stitches were required. He’s very groggy at the moment and far, far away. Here are some snaps of his wounds for the record:
I think that’s more than enough excitement for one day, don’t you?
Alex the Wonderdog is at the vet. His screams of pain as I tried to lift him down the stairs and into the car ripped at my heart. I know he’s only an animal in some people’s eyes, but to me I guess he’s a surrogate child for the moment. The vet said the attack was ferocious and that the wounds were nasty. They were going to sedate him, clip the fur, clean the wounds properly (because there’s a high chance of infection) and give stitches where necessary. He’ll be on painkillers and antibiotics for a while. Even as he was lifted onto the examination couch, his screams upset me greatly. Pull yourself together, man.
The vet told us we had to report the animal to the council dog warden just in case it did it again and injured a child or something. The Missus duly did this and we are waiting for a call back.
My injuries are minor in comparison to Alex. My thumb smarts and I am told that I should go for a tetanus jab just in case the guy is as rabid as his dog. I refuse because I am a man and it is very manly to refuse treatment until you keel over. But seriously, I just cannot be bothered waiting at the doctors and I am more worried that Alex might have some internal injuries. He was certainly a shadow of himself this morning and again that was upsetting, especially the uncontrollable trembling as he sat under the kitchen table.
In the fracas, I lost my watch. My good old trusty Citizen Navihawk, bought in King Street in Jersey in 1995. My trusty old watch that I bought out of retirement recently was lost in the battle. Again, this is nothing compared to the thought of my dog on the operating table thanks to the complete ingnorance and ineptitude of this idiot of a man and his beast of an animal.
Why o why do these people insist of having dog’s that are:
1) Several sizes too big for them
2) They have no control over
3) They refuse to keep on a lead
4) The animal’s were bred to be anti-social
I could go on. The weird thing is that I should be feeling more angry, but I don’t. I feel kind of cold and calm inside. What is wrong with me?
This entry is a memory aid should anything come amiss. Last night (Weds), we took both dogs out for their usual walk at 11.15pm. At the end of our road, I spied a regular walker with his dog. This dog is huge and the guy is small. He has no control over his animal and often lets it roam free. I am not sure of the breed, but it is probably as big as a man when it stands on its hind legs (no, it is not a Great Dane – it is more aggressive than that). We held back thinking that the man had disappeared behind the corner when all of a sudden the dog came running straight at us.
The animal instantly went for Alex and I did my best to defend him. It was only when Alex let out a blood-curdling cry that I kicked the dog a number of times in the gut with my boot, but it wouldn’t desist. The owner came running forward insisting that his dog was doing no harm. I told him to control his dog in no uncertain terms and then there was a scuffle and I was knocked to the floor. This action miraculously caused his dog to flee the scene in panic, saving Alex from further attack.
On the ground I tried to push him off but he bit hard on my finger. Worrying that I might never play guitar again, I desisted and he stopped gnawing on my thumb. We held each other by the throat in deadlock for a while until he released his grip. I verbally abused him as he fled the scene. The Missus alerted me that Alex was missing but I didn’t worry because I knew exactly where he was. While the Missus went to follow the man and his attack dog, I took Cappy the terrier home and saw that Alex was where I thought he’d be, on the doorstep waiting for me, shaking like a leaf.
I dropped Cappy off to my mum and then tended to Alex. He had three bite in his back – they look like flesh wounds but he wouldn’t let me look at them properly and became very agitated. My own thumb was bleeding and sore so I rinsed it under the tap and then poured some whiskey on it. I then took a couple of slugs from the bottle myself.
We know where the guy lives, so we’ll be reporting his dog to the RSPCA because if I hadn’t intervened I am sure that Alex would have been more seriously hurt. We are grateful that this huge animal didn’t attack Cappy the Yorkshire Terrier as it would have been certain curtains for him.
Now I am just left to nurse my bruises and take Alex to the vet tomorrow. I always said to the Missus that this would happen and as per usual, I was right. I even knew which dog it would be because this man has absolutely no control over the animal. Oh well, you walk away to fight another day, eh?
Here’s some pix of blood and gore:
Alex Injured
Bitten Thumb