Christmas hats

Zed Boy was sprawled next to another basset hound that looked vaguely familiar. His lip was curling and his eyes were narrowed down to meanie little slits, clearly, he wasn’t happy about something.

I sighed. How that creature got into heaven is a total mystery, he’s constantly whining and sniping about something or other. Can only think that Saint Peter has a soft spot for long dogs or something.

I sidled up and eavesdropped. Heard the word Christmas mentioned a couple of times. The other dog was nodding his head in agreement.

Zed Boy

“Holy crap!” The words were out of my mouth before I even realised it.

Zed’s head whipped around and he glared at me. “Stay out of this, Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes-Fudgie-Wena,” he spat at me, drool hanging in globs from his hairy chin.

“Who is your friend Zeddie?” ignoring his dark looks, plonking down on a nice fluffy bit of cloud.

The other basset smiled politely, “Homer’s the name, ma’am.” He wagged his tail at me. Obviously, he had no idea he was hobnobbing with a hoodlum.


“Hi, Homer” I wiggled one of my eyebrows at him. He was rather cute, in an old doggish sort of way. “Have we met before?”

He winked at me. “You sure do look a little familiar.”

“So why are you two moaning about Christmas when it’s long since over,” I got back to business.

“We were saying that it’s not fair that mom put Christmas decorations on Benji and Quasi. Quasi had a hat. A nice stripy hat. With ears.” Zed whined.


Homer nodded in agreement. “It sure was a lovely hat.”

As I said, we heavenly hounds can see what goes on down below. Clearly, Zed had spotted something that upset him. Suddenly a dim light flickered on. Benji was my friend. Pete the Publisher’s dog! We used to bump into him and Auntie Sharon walking in the veld sometimes. I remembered him as being rather wicked. Once he and I had a romp in a mud puddle, which turned out to be a hole that some municipality dudes had dug for a tree.

I looked around wildly, “He’s not here is he? It’s way too early for him to be up here?”

“Duh!” snorted Zed. “Of course he’s not here. Mom was putting hats on them for the Lets Look photo shoot. How could he be up here? Doff dog.”

“So what’s the problem with that?” I asked patiently. “Mom’s always taking photos of dogs. And cats.”

Homer shifted uncomfortably; he was not happy with Zed being so ill-mannered.

“We were saying, before you so rudely interrupted, that we never had Christmas hats.” Zed’s brow was even more wrinkled than usual.


“And just what would you have done with a Christmas hat Zed?” I enquired politely.

“What any basset hound worth his spots would have done,” he snarled. I stared at him blankly.

“What’s that?”

“Eaten it, of course!”

Mom cons Gemma

I’d been supervising the latest batch of SPCA doglets that had just arrived. They’re always a bit rumbustious when they first get here, having been kept in small spaces, they tend to charge around heaven like hooligans.

Heard some raucous laughter wafting from the corner where my fellow furballs usually hang out, spying on mom. I sidled over to take a look.

Zed Boy was literally rolling around on his back, snorting with mirth. Skunk was giggling like a girl and Ralphie looked a tad miffed. I barged through the heaving mass of fur to see for myself what was going on downstairs.

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing to see. Mom was busy shutting the gate and getting into her Tucson.

“You missed it,” howled Zed Boy. “That mom is such a sucker!”

I glared at him. How rude. “What do you mean?”

“That lil’ brown sausage dog thing has her wrapped around its stumpy tail.”

My whiskers prickled, I did not like to think of Mom having another precious doglet, but I suppose sharing is caring and all that crud.

Skunk sniggered and shook his ears. “It was hilarious. Gemma  gets all needy and hates it when mom goes out, so she hops and jumps around the place like a demented flea, trying to get into the car. But it is waaaay too high for her—as you well know Fudgie.”

I glared at that black and white long-legged beastie, remembering all too well when they first got that Tucson. I had to hop onto a crate to get into the car. I considered saying that at least I had never hooched in a car, but then decided not to be mean.


“Well” continued Skunk the Punk, “She picks her up and puts her on the back seat. That saucy sausage immediately hops into the front, looking all excited, like she’s going for a drive or something. Mom tells her to get into the back but she doesn’t listen.”

I still failed to see what was so funny. Obviously mom was taking Gemma for a drive or something. She often used to take me out with her.

Skunk started sniggering and chortling so much that Zed Boy picked up the story line. “So that stupid mom drives out of the gate, turns off the car and walks around to the passenger side. Quick as a wink, Gemma hops over onto the driver’s seat. Mom goes back to her side and Gem jumps into the back. Mom goes to open the back door and that mutt scrambles into the front again.”

“It’s too ridiculous for words,” retorted Ralphie, flicking his tail. “Pathetic in fact, mom should know better.”

I still didn’t see what was funny and wiggled my eyebrows at the long dog. “Explain.”

 “Oh Fudge! You are so dense sometimes,” cackled Zed Boy shaking his head. Basset slobber zinged all over the place.

“Erghhh!” yowled Ralph, back-peddling. “That’s gross. You revolting creature.”

Zed Boy smirked and continued. “Mom was only taking that foolish little creature for a teensy trip out of the driveway. When she finally managed to get hold of her, she plonked her back inside and closed the gate. That silly mutt looked so depressed.”

I sniffed and trotted off to check up on the new recruits. My woggledy whiskers! I never liked it when mom went off and left me either, but I wouldn’t have dreamed of behaving in such a way.

Miss Gemma – the saucy sausage doglet

Mom and Alpha bought a house a few months after I hopped onto the Rainbow Ridge. Was a bit green with envy because it has a nice big garden with lots of space – could have had a ball there.

See what I mean? Loads of space to play ball.

Anyhowl… the people who were selling the house were moving to New Zealand – wherever that is – and Gemma the sausage doglet was being left behind (I know – sucky attitude hey – Mom would never have left me behind anywhere).

A family conference was had and they decided, rightly so I might woof, that Gemma should live with them – or in this case, they should live with Gemma – seeing as it was her house first.

Mind you, turns out they  were adopted by a little doglet that is seriously full of quiddities and quibbles. When she was a puppy, her male “parental agent” was somewhat nasty and took it out on her often.

She now has a memory as long as her little brown body.

Alpha gave her a neck rub one day and it would appear that he did something she does not like… so she shrieked at him. Seriously, she did! Bit rude, I’d say – specially when he had done nothing to hurt her in the least.

Mom picked her up to put her on her lap (which she was asking for) and she shrieked at her too. Mom is still trying to figure out which bit of Gemma she offended.

My boy Luan (did I tell you the pawsome news that he’s going to be a vet… oh – wait – that’s another blog) went out of the front door to go to varsity one morning and stood totally bemused on the other side of the door whilst Gemma howled and shrieked at him from the inside. He had visions that he’d accidentally shut a bit of her into the door (which he knew he hadn’t) but it turned out she just wanted to go outside with him too.

The sliding door at the back  was open – but she wanted to go out of the front door.

Gemma’s quite good when it comes to the gate – she runs out but does not go near the road. Just sticks her nose into the neighbor’s gate. This gives mom a bit of a heart attack because there are a couple of pit bulls that live there. Seems like they are all friends though – because Gemma still has her nose.

She does, however, have a horrible habit of coming precariously close to the car wheels, and seeing as she has been run over before (not by my family obviously) and has a gait like a drunken sailor sometimes, mom’s totally neurotic about scrunching her.

My Ems says she looks like a mouse mermaid when she sits.

A pile of rather odious bedding was left by the previous owners.  Gemma’s baskie!  Mom was tempted to throw it into the washing machine on the hottest setting possible, but was vetoed. Shame… the rest of the family said. It’s the only thing that still smells familiar to her.

After the second day Alpha wrinkled his nose and said to mom – wash that smelly pile please!

Gemma puts herself to bed. Burrows under her duvet, like a little groundhog, into the depths of her “baskie” and slumbers peacefully. Quite clever really – I always needed mom to cover me up with a blankie.

All snug and cosy.

Soon after they moved in – when Ralphie was still on earth – there was a yelping from the bedroom. Mom and Alpha were trying to sort out the tip of an office.  Ralph had meanly positioned himself in the middle of the passage – a few feet from the bedroom door – and Gemma was too scared to charge past him. Every time she ventured out, Ralphie would haughtily flick his head around and glare at her.

That cat was laughing his whiskers off on the inside.

But Ralphie was not so pleased when that saucy little sausge dog claimed my old baskie for her own furry self. Next to mom’s desk nogal! Ralph and I used to share my baskie – especially when it was chilly. Then he got used to having it all for himself. One day he tried climbing into the basket with Gems. She leapt up shrieking and howling like a banshee dog and then tried to eat my Ralph. He was moerse put out and never tried that one again.

Mom made him a nice cosy spot under the table instead, but if looks could kill – Gemma would be leaping around the Rainbow Ridge with the rest of us.

They got to be friends though, before Ralphie came up to heaven. Gemma and Jack (the new kitty) are another story though.

Gems napping in MY baskie.

The Porridge Bowl

It was a fine feathery day in heaven and I was flitting around, after just having spent some time helping my Aunty Kate finish a crossword. She used to do Sudoku’s on earth but up here we have heavenly word puzzles that involve the Saints. Some of them are a bit elusive, and even though she’s a good Catholic auntie and knows a lot – I’ve been here longer than she has, so was able to make a few suggestions.

Came across Ralphie rolling around on a cloud, howling with laughter.  That will teach them to replace me with such a ragamuffin, he spluttered with mirth.

A tad unseemly behaviour for heaven, but then Ralph is a bit of a gangster at heart.

I peered over his shaking shoulder to see what was so incredibly amusing.

They were in the bedroom…

Alpha was having his usual breakfast in bed. Jack was sitting on Alpha’s chest, attempting to lick the porridge off his face. Alpha’s infinite patience was being somewhat tried.

Hey! I exclaimed. That’s my porridge bowl!

Ralph sitting elegantly!

Don’t be stupid, replied Ralph, that’s my porridge bowl! Except I used to sit elegantly at the end of the bed and watch him eat. If he took too long I would loudly voice my disdain by turning around and facing the cupboard.  When he’d finished he would ting-ting on the edge of the bowl with his spoon. I’d ignore him for a bit, then casually saunter up and do him the favour of licking up the last few morsels of porridge.

I glared at Ralph. I’m telling you – that was MY porridge bowl!

I would sit on the floor next to Alpha’s side of the bed and drool, waiting for him to finish. Sometimes I’d have to hurry him along with a little whinge or two. He’d give me THE look and tell me it was HIS breakfast. I should be patient. He also used to do the ting-ting on the side of his bowl thing with a spoon. Was quite funny actually… every now and then Alpha would get out of bed and almost slip on a puddle of drool. He’d make hysterical eeergh gross disgusting noises.

By now Zed and Skunk had joined our group and were also peering down from the skies.

Oi! I remember that bowl, yipped Skunkie. Alpha always had his brekkers out of it. When I grew into my legs I could easily reach the bowl next to his bed and scarf a lick when mom was not watching.  Not that Alpha ever left very much in it. Wasn’t very exciting really, preferred to steal Looseyfur’s  food.

Zed scowled. His legs were too short to reach anything on a table and he didn’t like to hear Skunk the Punk boasting.

We all watched as Jack tried again and again to stick his face into Alpha’s porridge bowl. He was very persistent. Each time Alpha would flick his nose gently. Jack would sit back and purr loudly, wait until Alpha was distracted by lifting the spoon to his mouth and try sticking his head in the bowl again.

Flick sniff flick sniff purr flick dodge flick purr… so it went.

Mom piped up… You are wasting your time you know. Cats cannot be trained. You’ve been doing this for three weeks now and nothing has changed. Jack still tries to lick the Weetabix off your chops.

Alpha made a face at mom. He spooned up the last bit of porridge and put the bowl down on the bed. Jack dived into it. Literally!

Jack with his face in the bowl!

Hey! Alpha exclaimed, waving the spoon around. I had not even ting-tinged yet.

Jack did not flicker a whisker, merely continued to ravish the bowl like he had not eaten in days – which I know was a lie because I’d seen mom play the choosey game with him in the kitchen earlier.

Then Ralph sauntered off… Show’s over for today furry folks – let’s go do some angel stuff.

Ralphie goes to heaven

I was just floating around in heaven the other day. Flitting around from colour to colour on the Rainbow Ridge – supervising the new additions that tend to take advantage of the space.

Even I, Miss Fudgie-wena, took advantage when I first arrived. I mean it is ginormous fun to leap through the rainbow and become rainbow coloured – especially when you have a long bod like I do – but let’s furry face it – doing that a gazillion times becomes old very quickly.

We don’t want to wear out the rainbow now, do we?

So like I said, I was supervising things, sniffing around. Generally making my own self useful where ever possible, when I heard that there was a commotion going on at the Pearly Gates.

Curiosity won and I decided to go take a peek.

Sometimes I can calm things down a smidgeon – me being Head Angel Doglet and all.

There was a big crowd. Everybody was pushing and shoving and trying to see what the problem was. Such unbecoming behaviour in heaven.

Heard some whispering… a cat had arrived at the Pearly Gates that was so big they were having a hard time finding angel wings to fit.

Now there are rules in heaven about wings. People get people wings. Dogs get dogs wings. Cats get cats wings. Pigs would love to have wings but everybody knows they can’t fly.  They have to snuffle around the place.

Nosed my way closer to the front of the crowd to see what was going on.

A large black and white cat was sitting looking extremely disgruntled. Various pairs of wings were being fitted on his back and just as quickly discarded. Every now and then the cat would twitch his whiskers and raise its yellow eyes to heaven – which is pretty hard to do when you are already in heaven. Clearly he had been in a spot of trouble because his nose was a total mess.

“Gerroffme!” He yowled – as the 37th pair of too-small wings was tried on his back. “I’m not a freaking fairy!”

Saint Peter looked on – a bit disapprovingly.  Getting to Heaven’s Gate is quite an achievement – so you do not want to jeopardize actual entry into heaven once you are so close.

Had a feeling of déjà vu. Thought something looked a bit familiar.

Suddenly it hit me. Ralphie!

But what was my Ralphie doing in heaven? He wasn’t due for a good couple of years.

Sidled up closer to check that I was not getting short sighted. I WAS NOT. It was indeed my old furry bud, Ralph.

Gave him the nose.

Oi! Hullo Ralph.

His cat eyes opened wide and his whiskers quivered bravely. He smiled with all his sharp pointy fangs. Even his eyebrows wiggled and jiggled with joy.

Fudges!  Ralphie murmured and slinked his furry body against mine. We nuzzled for a bit. It felt like home.

What is the problem Ralph? I breathed in his ear.

He hissed…. Get these silly wallies off me.  I. Am. Not. A. Fairy Cat!

I looked at him with big brown eyes. Ralphie! Do not jeopardise your spot in heaven. Just take the wings and shhhhh… You are going to be an angel – not a fairy!

Ralphie, however, was having none of it.

He shook and shivered and refused to even vaguely entertain the thought of having any sort of wings on his back.

Saint Peter’s face got blacker and blacker.

Eventually he intervened… “Ralph…” he murmured in a silky smooth voice… “would you like to go downstairs and catch rats for Old Nic?”

Ralph looked at me – not really understanding the question properly. For a smarty-pants cat he’s quite doff sometimes.

I shook my head vehemently. Then I suddenly had a brain wave. I whispered to one of the flighty angels who were responsible for fitting the new additions with wings.

She reappeared with a nice selection of mouse wings that could be worn on Ralph’s legs – like manly spurs.

Clearly Ralphie thought that this whole idea was not too shabby because he gave in and let them attach the wings. He fluttered those wings and flew like an angel.

Saint Peter breathed a sigh of relief.  So did I.

Zoomed up next to Ralph and gave him the nose.

Hey… it’s not so bad up here… come on – I’ll introduce you to Zed, Skunk and Looseyfur. Then let’s go see what mom is doing downstairs.


A few weeks ago, after having done our heavenly duties for the day, a bunch of us critters were lolling around spying on Mom. We like to check up on her and see what’s happening down on earth. We’d noticed that she spent a fair amount of time moping by the compost heap, chatting to the spot where Alpha had buried Ralph’s mortal remains.

Zed-Boy snickered and gave Ralph the nose.

Hah! So that’s what they thought of you eh! Compost.

Gave that meanie Basset Hound a slap with my tail… Oi you! Be nice! We’re in heaven now.

Ralph was about to point out that there were reminders of all the animals except Zed-Boy down by the compost heap, but I gave him the nose too. No need to point out the obvious.

Skunk ambled up in his shambley long-legged way and plopped down next to us on another bit of fluffy white cloud. We exchanged licks and slobbers. I’m rather partial to that Skunk. He’s a gentle old soul. Pity I never met him in real life, but then again, if he’d stuck around Mom and Alpha would never have come looking for me – so I guess things worked out how they were supposed to.

I’ve lined her up another cat! Skunk announced. One the same colour as Ralph and me!

Whaaat? Yowled Ralphie. So soon? She hasn’t finished being sad about me yet.

Gave Ralph a withering look. Really? We don’t want her to be sad. We like it better when she’s happy.

Ralph grumbled and mumbled a bit and Zed Boy smirked. Honestly, sometimes I think that dog should have gone down below to Old Nick instead of being a heavenly hound.

Let’s see it then – what’s it look like?

Skunk waved his paw in the direction of the Woolies parking lot. There.

Ralph nearly fell out of heaven laughing.  That’s my replacement? He scoffed. That’s not a proper cat! That’s a cartoon creature.

Skunk looked a bit put out. The freckles on his nose crinkled up ever so slightly and his whiskers quivered. I sidled up closer and leaned on him a bit.

He grunted… oeff!

I feel so light and springy now I tend to forget that I’m still a bit of a pudgy Fudgie.

That’s a perfect kittycat Skunkers– he’ll fit in beautifully with that crazy family. Where did you find him?

Skunk admitted that he’d seen him lurking by the side of the road, all wet and bedraggled and had used his heavenly powers to entice the furball into the doggy parlour. He giggled a bit and confessed that he did not really imagine that Lulu, the parlour owner, would tidy him up as neatly as she did.

She’d taken a photo and put up a notice on their board outside with “Needs a good home”.

Ralph was still cackling and hooting – lying on his back with his manly wing-spurs flapping all over the place.

Skunk nudged me – Look… Mom’s checking out the pocket-Fudge’s paws.

Skunk always calls Gemma “the pocket-Fudge” because she’s brown and long but a quarter of the size of my own robust Fudginess.

We all held our breath to see what she would do next…

First she spoke to Alpha and he shook his head. Then she foofled around on her lap-top thingy. Tik tik tik.

Finally she loaded Gemma into the car and drove off – in the right direction.

Zed Boy was barking bored by this time and was trying to sit on Looseyfur, the little red devil.

Loosey just did a disappearing trick and poof! he appeared again next to Skunk. Zed looked around for somebody else to mess with but Slayer hissed and gave him the evil eye.

Mom and Gem walked straight into the parlour. She did not even look at the notice board. Skunk gulped. He closed his big brown eyes and concentrated hard.

She helped put Gemma into a cage and glanced up at the cartoon cat. Then she walked out and drove off.  I looked at Skunk… Is this part of your plan?

He did not reply but continued concentrating intently.

A bit later mom came back. She was about to walk in the door but she backtracked and read the notice. She went inside. We all saw her waving her arms around and pointing.

Heads were nodded. Gemma came trotting out and mom took another look at that cat.

More heads were nodded. Skunk and I were about to do a paw version of a high five when that wretched mom gathered up Gems and walked off to her car. Leaving her cat behind!

Zed Boy howled with delight. You stupid mutt! You can’t organise a darn thing.  Not even from heaven!

Poor Skunkie sloped off feeling very dejected. Even Ralph was a bit quiet. Slayer and Looseyfur looked at each other with slitty eyes. They’d always preferred Skunk to Zed and they did not like to see Skunk looking so downtrodden.

A few hours later Skunk gave a delighted whelp. Mom was hauling the cat box out of the spot where it lived and was getting back into her car.

We watched with glee as she drove back to that very same parlour and loaded that cartoon cat into the box.

The cat was safely on its way to his new home.

Skunk leapt around whooping like a crazy flying grasshopper and made faces at Zed Boy. Ralph was a bit put out and slunk off. Slayer and Looseyfur winked at each other and then went back to catnapping.

I smiled at mom with all my Fudgie fangs.