Ronnie's Got a Funny Tummy!

Oh dear! Poor Ronnie's gone down with a dose of the yorkie belly gurgles.

He's been mooching around all day making strange glooping sounds and not very happy with himself. It started yesterday and I suspect it might have something to do with his eating all that broccoli the evening before.

Ronnie likes raw broccoli stalks.

He always hangs around in the kitchen while I'm preparing the evening meal and I usually throw him a stalk which he crunches up with great gusto. Then he waits for the next bit. Daisy, our other yorkie hangs around for it too, but she doen't eat so much before getting bored and going to beg at the door to the utility room where we stash the infinitely more interesting doggy snacks. Interesting to her, anyway.

Ronnie is a different story. Well, he is strange! He'd rather eat broccoli stalks than those nice doggy snacks. But he was a little too enthusiastic and ate Daisy's broccoli stalks that she left lying around the floor - more than was probably good for him. Hence his gurgly tum!

He's a bit better now, though. He just ate his food and no doubt will be back to the usual mad half hour running around the house like a lunatic that was sorely missed last night!

It's only a short story today as it's getting late already and will soon be time to go to bed. That's if Ronnie hasn't left us a little present to clean up somewhere...

Come back again soon!

The Squeaky Toy

Ronnie has got this great furry squeaky toy that he loves to play with. That's when I let him. Which isn't often, as it drives me insane!

It's usually hidden somewhere (I find some ingenious places) but Janice finds it and gives it to Ronnie when I'm out of the room. Then the craziness begins.

Ronnie is delighted to the nth degree with finding his long lost toy (which in doggy time is probably a month of Sundays) and runs with it onto the sofa and sets about making it squeak as fast and furiously as he can.

Squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a...

RONNIE!

Squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a...

RONNIE!!!!

Squeak-a, squeak-a, squea-eak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a...

I come stomping into the room hoping the sound of thudding feet will stop him

Squeak-a, squeak-a, squea-ea-eak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squea-ea-eak-a, squeak-a...

Then I make a lunge for the toy. Ronnie is about ten times quicker than me and he's off the sofa charging over to the other side of the room, fluffy thing clamped in his jaws...

Squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a

I chase him and he turns hard left and is off down the stairs.

Silence.

He's probably hiding under one of the beds, so I don't bother chasing him. So normality returns and I can sit down in front of the TV with my cup of tea and relax...

Squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a... squeak-a, squeak-a, squeak-a...

Ronnie's Little Foibles

Ronnie often sits on my lap while I'm typing away at the computer, so this time I had the camera to hand and as he gawped at me I pointed it at him and fired. To my surprise, he didn't even blink at the flash! What I captured is probably the clearest picture of the little rascal's face that ever took!

So Ronnie has a lot of strange ways and idiosyncrasies too numerous to to list in one single post, so I'll cover one of them here.

He has this bizarre habit of sitting on the floor and staring at me while I sit watching the TV. Then he utters a short moan, like he's clearing his throat. Ermmm!

I look at him and say "What do you want, boy?"

He sits there, blank look on his unmoving face. Nothing. Nobody home. I turn my attention back to watching the TV.

Ermmm!

"What?"

Nada. Zilch. The lights are all out and there's nobody home.

A few minutes later... Ermmm!

"RONNIE WHAT???"

More life out of that yellow stuffed duck! "Is there anybody in there?" Silence. Not a movement. Not a twitch of the whisker nor flick of the tail!

More silence. Then...

Ermmm!

In the end I get up and move towards him. But Ronnie moves faster. He comes to life in an instant, then jumps the four feet between us like a cat, lands on the sofa in the spot I just vacated and retrieves the half inch long piece of chew-stick that I was sitting on.

And we call them dumb animals!

Come back again soon to see what he's been up to next!