Teamwork

Have to say my respect for Marley Cat has increased in leaps and bounds.  My mum gave him his breakfast sardines in tomato sauce (hiding antibiotics for him) and left the can on the kitchen worktop.  She usually wraps foil over the top and hides it in the fridge.

So when the Marls eats what’s in his dish he sniffs out the can and starts scoffing straight from it, then using his paw to scrape out more delights.

Then whoomph, he’s a bit too enthusiastic in the paw department and the can falls to the kitchen floor, the remains splattering everywhere.  That’s where I come in to mop up the mess – teamwork, I call it.

My mum was furious when she caught me tongue in tin.  Not only could I have cut myself, she says, but that was the last tin.  Surely she knows dogs can’t count.

Now she tells me

It’s late afternoon and I’ve only now found out from my mum that it’s National Dog Day.  All day long I could have been out celebrating.  Now I’m too bushed and fit for just cuddling up with my toys. There’s a new fluffy fox with a tail as extravagant as mine which the sprog gave me.  She has a mountain of soft toys even though she’s almost a teenager.