My nearly short life

Thought it best to make my blogging debut before I carc' it again. Let me explain. Just jumping on the beach for my ball, next minute the ball disappears, I can't breath, and she has her hand down the back of my gullet. I bit her of course (so would you, she may look like she has small paws, but not when she is searching around in your throat!) and then apparently turned blue. Goodbye sweet world.

When I came round, he (whose paws are substantially bigger - thank god I was out of it!) pulled the ball, which had caused me to stop breathing, out. Once I regained my composure, and had a shit (again, you would of too under the circumstances) I was ready for round two of 'Dog versus ball - you can run but you can't hide'. My owners were sadly not and made us go home for alcohol- them not me - a shame, what's the big deal, I just wanted to play ball.

And what now, you may ask, of ball games. Well, good news, over the last few days my balls have got much bigger, I have been allowed to sleep on the bed, and I am in receipt of many more treats than in the past. We also practise footy a lot more. And all that for a mere ten second brush with death - bring it on. Throw for me, throw for me, throw it, throw it, please throw it....

Sir Bobby Robson Tribute Trophy - part deux

Erm, slept through most of it, so can't really give you any more commentary. Did open one eye to see Shearer score a blinding penalty at the Gallogate end (lovely) and against the Germans (great stuff) - not at all staged you understand- you can't keep a good man down!

If you feel robbed by my lack of input re the second half, what can I say- C'est la vie.

This 2-part post - our first, is our tribute to Sir Bobby, long may he continue to reign (cos let's face it, he still does!).

That collie's back, yawn.

Sir Bobby Robson Tribute Trophy - aka scratching on the settee and cursing the Germans

We both knew that the Sir Bobby Robson Trophy Live would be emotional, but neither of us expected to see the Germans two-nil up with 20 mins gone and Alan on his arse after a terribly embarrassing mis-kick. And I can't get this itch out of my ear. No matter how deep my claws go, this demon cannot be exorcised. Oh, for a finger!

Nor would I have agreed to lie on this cushion and watch the match had I known that the screaming would keep distracting me from my task. Humans have highly complex vocal cords best used for gentle conversation and melodic singing, not for screaming "COME ON!!!" at the TV screen. You know they can't hear you don't you? Stupid woman.

I am very fond of Sir Bobby Robson, and it saddens me no end to see how he has aged in the last few years. I remember watching him when I was a nipper, and when he was first celebrated by the masses at St James' Park- so much hope. He has always supported our lads and we shall continue to support him through these hard times - and always smiling - a lesson for us all.

Les Ferdinand has scored - much excitement. Short cat nap.

Woken by a wonderful free kick from Alan Thompson - retired? We could do with that sort of play now!

I must say how spiritually lifting it is to see the Robson's 1990 world cup squad boys back together again. Beardlsey, Gazza, Shilton, Platt, Barnes, Walker... they can't play mind you, too old, but bless them for trying. Hang on, Gazza's being interviewed. And I quote:

"Err, yu na, eye, canny, yeah, yu na, a na, err, eye, cheers" - says it all really.

Half time, thank god. 2-2, get in. Quiet without that Collie. Make the most of it. Slightly longer cat nap. Watch this to get you in the mood for the second half while I stretch and snooze (the best world cup tune by far, I'm sure you'll agree.....).

Singing for England