Members of our writers’ club, Writing on the Wharfe, were disappointed when it became clear that we could not meet for the next scheduled meeting in the village library on 28 February.

Screen shot of the six club members in the video chat

Our first video chat. Trying to do a screen shot I obscured most of the picture of me but it’s a matter of learning on the job!

Our founder and leader, Ruxandra, who gives up nothing without a fight, suggested we try using a video chat group meeting on Messenger. We did and after a few small hiccups it worked perfectly. Six members took part, reading their contribution on the set theme of Addiction. Apart from the nonsense poem I posted here earlier (already circulated to club members) I wrote a kind of blog post.

It’s tongue in cheek, but not entirely!


Addiction

My village has an addiction: dogs.

I don’t understand this addiction.

It is certainly an addiction; the more ugly the dogs are the more of them there seem to be.

I’m not sure whether the owners come to look like their dogs or the dogs come to look like their owners. Some biological chemistry seems to be working to ensure that the more ugly the dog, or the owner, the more this is true.

For myself, not only do I not have this addiction but I dislike most dogs. I dislike their stupidity, their slavish adherence to what their human master dictates.

Distorted, expensive results of the pedigree system have become the penis symbols of today.

Do the owners, particularly men, realise how ridiculous they look strutting with their expensive acquisition or behaving like a sergeant major on the parade ground barking orders at their poor, distorted (sometimes abused, by cutting tail, ears and heaven knows what else) purchase.

The distortions of nature are either indulged by their human owners so they behave badly most, if not all, of the time. If well behaved they are either so anxious to please, rewarded perhaps by a tidbit, they do precisely as they are told, or cowed by the instant displeasure of their owner.

Cats

Let’s compare with cats.

Totally self-sufficient, if fed they will eat but never lose their hunting instinct. If not fed they will find a mouse, bird, anything small which moves and will eat it. If fed, they will do the same to hone their hunting skills.

Of course the felines also suffer from human intervention, pedigree breeding, to produce ridiculous examples of their kind but even they, if not imprisoned and cosseted, will revert to the wild.

Cats will be affectionate if they feel like it, ignore you if they do not.

Some dogs are excepted

I do have some exceptions to my dislike of dogs.

First are the guide dogs for the blind, mostly labradors and, as an extension of that I quite like most labradors and other soft-mouthed types, like spaniels.

Other exceptions to my dislike are wild dogs – foxes, wolves, dingos and the like – for similar reasons that I like cats.

But my dislike of domesticated dogs reaches its summit with small, pretty examples which insist on disturbing an otherwise pleasant audio environment with frequent, if not constant, yapping.

I yearn for a rifle to pick them off one by one until tranquility is restored.


I know some of the ugly distorted dogs are ‘rescue dogs’; of course I approve of this. Having brought them into the world as living creatures, we should certainly look after them.