Never known my mum so mad. I’m locked away in the back room with my bed and a bowl of water, no biscuits, no loves.
The morning didn’t start well: my mum isn’t sleeping cos her back is hurting so she didn’t appreciate my enthusiastic greeting. Or pulling on the lead. Or trying to cross the road ahead of her. Or losing my Chuck It ball. Or getting sticky stuff on my head.
No, I kept the best till we arrived at the bowling green. I’ve done a few runs then decide I need to relieve myself – against someone’s bowling bag. If my mum hadn’t shrieked I doubt if any of the players would have noticed. She was incandescent.
I was marched home peremptorily. As we walked back it started to rain. I expect that will wash the bowling bag…
She’s been at me again, my mum: forced me into the yard, made me stay still while she wielded those clippers like Excalibur! It’s only five minutes since I was done – surely it’s not time yet? I had chrysanthemum paws, she said, and I will be much happier with less fur in the sunshine. Even skimmed off my leg feathers – though my tail survived untouched! There was a great big pile of cuttings once she’d finished.
Admittedly, I have been a bit overheated outdoors on warm days but there is always our tiled hall to cool off on once we are back home. And if I’m bushed when we are out I can usually find a shady spot to recover.
Look at how my gorgeous spots appear when I’m clipped really short!
We were out for such a long time this morning – breakfast in our favourite café (bits of sausage for me) then food shopping (tuna and sardines, hope I get a sample) for Marley. When I got a whiff that we were homeward bound I decided to take the lead. I’m very good at this and know the way. We were back in no time at all.
Starting to sit more in the summerhouse but it was a brief sojourn today. A bit chilly, even in there. My mum could have closed the door but Marley was firmly on her knee and she doesn’t like to move him. That’s fine until she her knee seizes up and she can’t feel her toes! Cleo stayed outside, miaowing loudly. But when does she ever do anything else? Haven’t a clue what she wants most of the time.
I make my needs very clear – a helpless look means ‘feed me’, spinning around trying to catch my tails says it’s time for a run, retreating to the tiled hallway indicates I’m hot and my head on my mum’s knee tells her I want cuddles. Couldn’t be plainer – and she calls me thick!
Now that we have a dog friendly pub around the corner I get taken much more often. It’s such a treat; treat, you understand, as in lots of fuss and a bag of crisps. And this pub stocks Salty Dog crisps! Made for me!
Here I am, last night, sitting patiently, paw at ready. My mum makes me give a paw at so that I fully appreciate the special nature of getting crisps. Too many aren’t good for a doggy diet, even if they are named after me.
I got lots of cuddles and compliments from other customers. One encouraged me to say hello to her bearded collie and shared a dog biscuit with me.