Jasmine the Dog

As you may or may not know, we’ve recently been joined Chez 6000 by Colin the Dog. You can see my views about this development on this post. And yes. the puppy is very cute, but it’s a dog. Just a dog.

Same could be said for Jasmine Terry. Jasmine is also a dog. Just a dog.

The major difference between Jasmine and Colin (who, in a confusing development, isn’t actually called Colin) is that Colin doesn’t have her own Facebook page. But then Colin isn’t from Port Elizabeth and as we’ve discussed before, things are often a little weird that far along the south coast. (I fully recognise that for some of you, the bigger shock here will not be the dog with its own Facebook page, but rather the revelation that PE appears to have somehow developed internet access.)

I’m not sure how Jasmine set up her own Facebook page, although looking through the pages and pages of rules and regulations, at no point does it actually state that you have to be human. You do have to be 13 years old to use Facebook though, but I guess if you’re a dog, that’s only about 22 months.

Jasmine’s grasp of the English language is pretty good and, despite having paws instead of hands (this is just a dog, after all), her typing is nothing short of excellent, with only occasional lapses into Dog, such as at the end of this update:

Sorry peeps I have not been on FB much as my mom & dad are so busy working. However we are going away this weekend to Hogsback so I will post lots of pics. Cannot wait. I really hope it snows. Luckily my mom found pet friendly Accomodation so I get to go with. Woof!

Incredible. In fact, this dog is either the most talented canine out there or some human is pretending that the dog is writing the page. But can this really be the case, because that would be rather sad, wouldn’t it? Writing in the third person. Third dog, rather. Pretending to be a dog. Like something you’d do at junior school. Not an adult thing.

But then look at the adults that have sent Jasmine messages.
Here’s a screenshot of three of them.


Let’s start at the bottom:
Heather Coyle-Downing is an adult human (according to her profile picture, at least) and she is addressing Jasmine like it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to be doing. Jasmine, lest we forget, is a dog. Yes, a dog with a Facebook page and an uncanny knack of typing fairly decent English, but still a dog.

Working our way up:
I’m desperately trying to overlook the fact that Luke Harold appears to be a cat. If I choose not to ignore that, then everything falls apart, because Luke Harold – ostensibly a cat – has left a message on a Facebook page administered by a dog.
But still, despite the extremely dodgy relationship twixt cat and dog throughout history, Luke is wishing Jasmine well. That’s nice to see. Israel and Palestine could learn from this magnanimous behaviour. Unless of course “Mew meow” turns out to be Cat for “F*** You!”, in which case Luke Harold is a very naughty cat indeed.

We continue to Mark Mans’ contribution. Mark is a human. An adult human.
Mark is an adult human and yet he appears to have ventured onto the Facebook page of a dog, clicked the “Message” button, typed a series of potentially dog-related noises into the window that opened and then, presumably having carefully considered and approved his contribution, hit the “Send” button.
I find it unlikely that this was a series of accidental occurrences.
I think that he actually meant to do this.

What is wrong with these people (save for the fact that they all appear to be from PE)?

Because, let’s face it, there’s a huge difference between telling your Facebook friends that you’re enjoying your holiday and that your dog seems to be having a great time too, and setting up a page for your dog and writing it as if you were actually your dog. The former is, these days at least, considered perfectly reasonable behaviour.
The latter, however, suggests to me that you should urgently be seeking some sort of psychiatric therapy.

If this is you, talk to your vet immediately.

Thanks Jonathan

Dog tired

It’s been a dog-dominated, sleep-deprived weekend. I asked my wife if she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

“No,” she replied, “I’ve bitten off more than I thought, but I can still chew it.”

I’m not sure that this says more about my wife’s determination or her dietary habits.
Or her gob capacity.
And right now, I’m too tired to care.

Colin arrives

Colin is here and it’s like having a new baby in the house. Excitement, no sleep,  apparently random defaecation events and a check up at the vet. (Yes, we were actually so tired after our daughter was born that we once took her to the vet. She’s now the only six year old in Cape Town who is vaccinated against distemper.)


Colin is officially called Tigger by the rest of the family, because the breeder told us that she was the bounciest of the litter.
She’s already made the place her own and I’ve consequently resigned myself to fifth place in the house (still just ahead of the goldfish).

Project Colin begins

For years I’ve managed to resist the demands of my wife. Most specifically, the demand where she wants a dog, that is.
But like the gradual erosion of the solid and steadfast rocks by the cold, relentless ocean, I have apparently crumbled.

A bit.


This is Colin, (Colin is a girl dog, by the way) who will be joining us Chez 6000 in a couple of weeks time. I remain rather unsure about the whole thing, but the rest of the family wants and the science proves that kids benefit from having pets (although the science doesn’t mention chewed shoes, hair everywhere or that smell) and so I have reluctantly given in.

Yes, I’ll freely admit that Colin is rather cute, but at least part of that opinion probably stems from the fact that Colin isn’t crapping all over my kitchen floor.


This isn’t going to turn into a Colin blog, but if everything goes according to plan (or even more likely, if it doesn’t), you’ll almost certainly find some references to her at some point or points in the future.

Let it be known that Project Colin began here.