Category: Dogs
Stoned in Stockwell
With the sun out, the people shirtless and picnics in full swing, the sweet smell of marijuana, along with the stench of skunk, is wafting across the parks of London.
Recently the dog ran through a tsunami of smoke caused by one of those vaping dudes and ended up on her back giggling. (Yes, my dog can giggle) So I’m pretty sure those guys are up to something too. Summer’s here and Londoners are high in Highgate and stoned in Stockwell.
Weed remains illegal in the UK and being caught with it comes with a maximum five years in prison and an unlimited fine. Police can issue an on-the-spot fine if you’re caught with a small amount and will take your stash.
But frankly unless you blow smoke in a copper’s face you’re unlikely to feel plod’s hand on your shoulder. The War on Drugs, or at least the War on Weed seems to have sputtered out.
Ask any lawyer and they’ll tell you that if a law is on the books and it’s not enforced, it should either be struck off or at least changed. But of course, that is unlikely to happen. Politicians in the UK know there are few votes to be won in suggesting weed be legalised and any unfortunate MP who takes up the cause will likely be mugged by the Daily Mail.
You have to wonder how many of our elected members have never smoked a joint. I’m sure the delightful Mr Rees-Mogg is in the clear along with our Prime Minister, but Boris Johnson? A few years ago, Ann Widdecombe (remember her?) caused a storm at the Tory party conference when she called for zero tolerance on all cannabis use and anyone caught with the drug would receive an automatic £100 fine. Even Tories couldn’t stomach that, and it was ditched.
It’s all so tricky for both politicians and the police. Just recently in Argentina a huge cache of marijuana being held by police went missing. A former police commissioner and fellow officers gave an entirely believable account as to what had happened when they told a judge the drugs were “eaten by mice”.
A few years ago, smoking a joint in public came with a police warning: ‘You’re be nicked sunshine’. Not anymore. MPs are too frightened to touch it, the police have more important stuff on their hands and so we do what we always do when faced with an intractable problem, we whistle up a van load of fudge to make it all go away.
And fudge, so I’m told, goes very nicely after you’ve smoked a joint.
How come it’s OK for men to piss in public?
Sorry for the rather crude headline, but I thought it might grab your attention.
I’m not just talking about homeless people here, it now seems any man can get his todger out and start spraying the London landscape, willy-nilly. Just yesterday I was out with the mutt in our local park and a man was leant up against a tree giving it full flow. Seeing him, the dog had a quick pee in solidarity, but close by were children and unaccompanied members of the clergy.
My wife says men are filthy creatures and we’ve always done it. I disagree, I think a change has occurred and men now think this is acceptable behaviour. Perhaps the council is to blame for not providing enough public loos, but I don’t like it and it stinks.
Whatever the case, you probably want to go and wash your hands after reading this post. At your convenience, it would be interesting to hear your thoughts.
What’s up dog?
Dogs, they have an interior life. Who knew? I haven’t had a dog living in the house since I was a kid and just assumed that dogs were simple creatures; if you took them for walks and gave them bones they were happy and if they were hungry or not well looked after they were unhappy. Perhaps I was thinking of men not dogs. Anyway, it turns out it’s a little more complicated than that.
While we were sunning ourselves in Florida, the Mighty Bucket, AKA Rusty, AKA Battersea Bucket was being looked after by a local dog sitter. On our return we were told that Bucket had not behaved well, had peed everywhere, had not got on with the other dogs and would not be invited back. Oh dear.
Despite being pleased to see us, she was not the happy Bucket we had left behind. The tail was almost permanently down, she wasn’t excited about walks and didn’t even chase squirrels – unheard of. It took her around three days to be restored to storm force Rusty. So, what is going on in that little head of hers?
Every time we pass Battersea Dogs & Cats she gets excited, pulls to go in and quite clearly has fond memories of the place.
I tie her up outside the local Sainsbury’s when I’m shopping. The other day another dog was leashed outside. Was she thinking: ‘Poor dog, wonder how long the owner will be inside and what the hell do they get up to in these places anyway?’
I let Rusty off the lead on walks and only put her on when we are near a main road. Does she think:
A: ‘Why the hell do I need to be put on a lead?’
B: ‘Yeah well fair enough, I am a little nuts and will probably go play in the traffic.’
I know this is all anthropomorphic nonsense, but If anybody knows what they’re thinking, do let me know.
A Little London Life 