Ziggy the Nutter?

Buster here again, folks.

Phew! It looks like Ziggy forgot the bit about me describing him as a nutter at the beginning of his story, so I’ll fill you in on that myself.

Well, to start with, it’s a little unfair to call him a nutter as such. It’s just that he has these fits. The first time I saw it happen, I really had no idea what was going on. He was sitting down and then suddenly started glaring at his own bum. Then he started this low, rumbling growl which eventually turned into a bark.

He barked at his bum a few times and by now he was standing up. Then he suddenly started whirling round and round looking exactly like he was trying to bite his own arse. He was really going for it and looked like he could do himself serious damage if he actually managed to connect.

He was barking and growling all the time and as he spun, his saliva flew all over the place. In fact, some of it hit me on the nose as I watched and I thought, ’Urgh.’ Anyway, the fit lasted four or five minutes and eventually he began to calm down. By now he was totally exhausted.

I’ve got used to Ziggy’s fits now and so have the others and we mostly ignore it and just let him get on with it. Sometimes he has better days than others but even on a good day he has at least a couple of fits.

We’ve overheard the humes talking about Ziggy’s fits and they’ve taken him to Petros, the dog-doc, loads of times for all kinds of tests and things. They’ve also tried various drugs but nobody really knows what Ziggy’s problem is. We don’t really like to ask Ziggy himself and the humes obviously can’t. They think he probably had his tail cut off when he was very young and that it was done badly - something about cutting too short and through a bone rather than between bones.

Poor Ziggy. When he’s not having these fits he seems quite happy and he’s a good laugh. We all hope that the humes will find a cure for him one day but who knows?

Ziggy’s Story (Part Two)

Ziggy here again, readers. Sorry about the interruption.



So where was I? Oh yes. I heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the shed.

The shape of a hume appeared in the doorway and I froze, not daring to think what they’d do to me. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen.

But nothing did. I heard footsteps moving away and I slowly opened one eye. The doorway was empty. Next, I heard the sound of a door being closed and the outside light went off.

I can only imagine that the beam from the outside light hadn’t reached fully into the shed and that where I was lying was still in darkness. Thank Dog that humes have rubbish night vision.

For the second time that night, I breathed another huge sigh of relief and hoped that I could now get some well-earned sleep without any more interruptions. Even so, I told myself, I’ll have to make sure I’m out of here before the humes are up in the morning.

Still, the best laid plans of mice and dogs often go awry, as they say, and of course I seriously overslept, only waking when I heard the hume-house door opening. I didn’t even have time to think. Instinct immediately took over and I knew I had to make a run for it while I still could.

However, as soon as I was out of the shed, I came face-to-face with a female-hume coming straight towards me. She stopped in her tracks and so did I. Once again, instinct kicked in and I immediately assumed the submissive position, lowering my entire body to the ground as far as I possibly could, all four legs spread wide, and my head down but with eyes raised ever so slightly towards the hume. Although I say it myself, I reckon this was one of the best submissives I’ve ever performed in my life and, believe me, I’ve done quite a few in my time. On the basis that submission is the better part of valour, I’d spent many hours practising the pose on my own and I was about to find out if all that hard work had been worth it.

“Hello.” The female-hume’s voice was soft and gentle. “Where did you come from?”

I assumed this was probably a rhetorical question and merely replied with one of my best I’m just a poor stray looking for a bit of love and affection whimpers.

“Rob!” the female-hume suddenly called over her shoulder. “Come here quick!”

Uh-oh, I thought, I’d obviously given the wrong answer. I guessed she was calling for a male-hume and, in my experience, that usually meant bad news.

I heard some sort of grunting noises coming from inside the house and decided to brave it out. I stayed exactly as I was as the female-hume bent down and came very slowly towards me, her hand outstretched in front of her. “And what’s your name then?”

So many questions. Good grief, I didn’t even have a name at the time so what was I supposed to say? I settled for another whimper, which seemed to do the trick.

“Ohhh, what a sweetie,” said the female-hume, who was almost close enough to touch me by now.

At that moment, the male-hume appeared. I tried to sink my body even lower into the ground.

“Oh my God,” he said and I immediately realised he must either be dyslexic or a worshipper of false Dogs. “Where did he come from?”

“Oh don’t you start,” I tried to say but it just came out as yet another whimper. Probably just as well really. I mean, I didn’t want to come over as bolshy just at that particular instant, now did I.

“He’s very cute,” the male-hume remarked as he too came slowly towards me, crouching slightly.

Cute? Cute?? Now I consider myself to be many things but ‘cute’ certainly isn’t one of them. Still, I’d better go with the flow for now I suppose.

Then the female-hume brought the palm of her hand down very gently on the top of my head. I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first as my only experience of physical contact from a hume until then had resulted in various degrees of pain.

“It’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Well, that’s a relief for sure. But how do I know it’s not some kind of bluff to lure me into a false sense of security and then - whack!

But she then started gently moving her hand backwards and forwards on my head, and I have to say, it really did feel quite pleasant. I later discovered it’s something they call ‘stroking’ and I must say I’ve become very keen on it.

The male-hume bent down and placed his hand very carefully on my back and started the same ‘stroking’ thing. “He seems very friendly.”

Friendly? Yeah, and do I have a choice here exactly? You may not have noticed but I’m seriously outnumbered. Good grief. Not only is this guy dyslexic, he’s obviously a dimwit as well.

Still, it seemed like I was getting away with the whole trespassing thing and I was even beginning to relax a little. Don’t get too cocky though, I told myself. Keep up the submissive bit until you’re absolutely sure you’re in the clear.

“We really mustn’t feed him though,” The female-hume sounded suddenly serious.

Oh well, I thought. You can’t have everything I suppose.

“No you’re right. We’ll never get rid of him if we do and we can’t cope with three dogs.”

The stroking thing continued for just a few more seconds and then the female-hume got to her feet and disappeared back inside the house. Moments later, she was back carrying a bowl of - I couldn’t believe my eyes - food! But didn’t she just say….? Oh well, don’t look a gift-dog in the mouth, and I gobbled it all down as soon as the bowl touched the floor.

“But didn’t you just say…?” started the male-hume as he stood watching me. “Oh never mind.”

“I think he was hungry,” commented the female-hume.

Too damn right I was hungry. Don’t suppose there’s any chance of seconds is there? No, OK, don’t push your luck.

“Anyway, we need to get on,” said the male-hume and with that, the two humes spent the next hour or so carrying all kinds of bags and boxes from the house to the car.

Of course, this was the perfect opportunity for me to make my escape but something - mainly the food - told me that there didn’t seem to be much point any more. Instead, I spent the whole time zig-zagging in front of each of the humes as they went to and fro between the house and the car. All the while, I kept my body as low as I could to the ground, still assuming the submissive permission.

It got quite tiring really but I thought it might be worth the effort if it resulted in a bit more of the edibles. The humes seemed to find it quite amusing although I think the male-hume got a bit irritated once or twice when he tripped over me.

Then, everything seemed to happen very quickly. The humes put some more food in the bowl (yesss!) and gave me a bit more of the stroking before jumping into the car and disappearing off up the track.

Oh well, I said to myself as I swallowed the last mouthful of grub, I think that turned out pretty well in the end. Short but sweet, as they say. Pity though really. They didn’t seem too bad as humes go.

I was feeling quite drowsy after all the food so decided I may as well make use of the nice warm basket while I still had the chance. After that, I’d better get on the road again and seek out my next meal. Who knows where that would take me.

I actually slept far longer than I’d intended and when I woke up, there was a male-hume stood over me. Not the same one as before though, and I was about to panic when he carefully bent down and placed a bowl of food in front of me. I shook my head to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and scratched myself to check that I hadn’t died and ended up in some kind of Dog Paradise.

I looked up at the hume to see if I could gauge what he was going to do next.

“Go on then,” he said quietly. “Get stuck in.”

So I did. Not only then but twice a day for the next couple of weeks when this male-hume appeared with the grub. What a great guy and what an amazing holiday I had, just lying around most of the time being fed regularly and with hardly a care in the world. I had the whole place to myself apart from these couple of chasers who live here but I didn’t bother them and they didn’t bother me.

When the male- and female-humes got back from their trip, I was dreading that they’d want to kick me out. All good things must come to an end one day after all. But they seemed really delighted to see me and I’m still here almost exactly a year later. Quite a lot has happened in that time but that, as they say, is quite another story. Besides, I can see Buster pacing. I think he wants his blog back.

Ziggy's Story (Part One)

Now, it has to be said that Ziggy is really a bit of a nutter. Maybe that’s a bit harsh but he does have this habit of…..

Hang on a minute though. First, I should tell you about how he came to be here at “Xerika”.



About a year ago, the humes were going off on some trip or other for a couple of weeks and they’d taken Sammy and Rory (my and Poppy’s dads) to be looked after by some hume friends. Our dads really liked going there as these other humes had a dog called Rosy, who was apparently a good laugh and fancied Rory like crazy. Rory felt the same way about her and I’ve heard the humes say he used to write love poems to her. Personally, I think that’s daft and also too soppy for words.

Anyway, the night before the humes set off on their trip -.

ZIGGY: Not writing about me by any chance, are you?

BUSTER: Er, yes, I am as it happens.

ZIGGY: Perhaps it would be appropriate if I took up the story myself at this juncture.

BUSTER: Eh? Oh yes, right. Whatever you say, Zig. It’s your story after all.

ZIGGY: My thoughts precisely, old chap.


Hello, readers. Ziggy here. Now what’s the young ragamuffin been saying? Hmm… Bit of a nutter, eh. I shall return to this point later.

In the meantime, it was the night before the humes set off on their trip and it was absolutely lashing down with rain. How I came to be roaming the hills on my own at that time of night is quite another story but suffice it to say for now, my previous humes had taken me up there a few days earlier and had just left me to fend for myself.

I’d been managing to find bits and pieces of food and wasn’t in too bad a shape. But when the rain started, I knew I had to find somewhere dry to shelter. I’m really not at all keen on getting wet and it looked like a serious storm was on its way. There was a hume-house I’d seen the day before and although I’d been avoiding such places, this was an emergency and I made straight for it as fast as I could.

Now I hadn’t had a lot of luck recently what with being abandoned and so on, but that night the Dogs seemed to be smiling on me. Firstly, the farm gate was open so I didn’t have to mess about trying to find a hole in the fence and getting wetter and muddier in the process. Secondly, there was a nice dry shed with no door next to the hume-house and, thirdly, there was even a basket with a couple of blankets inside it.

I was cold, wet and tired so I quickly got in and settled down for a good sleep.

The next thing I know, I’m aware of some kind of presence - the way you can be sometimes even when you’re fast asleep. As soon as I woke up, I got the scent of another dog and it wasn’t a pleasant scent either. My eyes focused, and I saw this very wet mangey old mongrel standing looking at me from the shed doorway.

“What the bloody hell do you want?” I barked, jumping to my feet.

“I just thought I’d -.”

“Well, you can just think again, hume-breath!”

“Listen, there’s plenty of room in here for both of us.”

“No there isn’t. So just bugger off.”

“Yeah? You gonna make me, shorty?”

I puffed out my chest and did my best snarl, trying to look as mean as I possibly could. He did exactly the same and we stood eyeballing each other for a few moments, snarling and growling, both wondering who was going to lunge first. To be honest, I don’t really do violence and it’s very rare for another dog to be taken in by my pretence at aggressive posturing but on this occasion, and much to my amazement, the other dog suddenly stopped snarling, muttered something I couldn’t make out and promptly disappeared.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and went to the doorway to make sure the mutt really had gone, edging forward carefully in case this was some kind of trick and he was going to pounce on me when my guard was down. But, sure enough, there was no sign of him and once again I settled back down in the basket feeling a little ashamed that I’d driven off the other dog. He’d been right. There really was more than enough room for both us but I’m always a bit grumpy when I get woken suddenly and -.

Just then, I heard a door opening nearby and an outside light came on. The commotion must have woken the humes. Now I’ll be for it. I lay as low as I could in the basket, trying to make myself invisible, and held my breath. I strained my ears, listening to the sound of footsteps going first one way and then another and then, slowly but surely, coming towards the shed itself….

Oops. Sorry folks, but they’ve just shouted us for supper. I’ll carry on with the story another time.