Monday 12 November 2007


We checked the diary. I have now been living at Mum and Dad's a whole year as on Saturday just gone (the 10th)

We have just been for a lovely race about on the Rec. It's really chilly, so it's good to run about and warm up, and what better way than to persecute a plastic bottle. Frijj Strawberry flavour this time, so I can have a surruptitious slurp in between leaving it for Dad to kick or throw and giving it back to him. I do look rather wistfully though, at "proper toys" - had great fun the other day with a soft, luminous green frisbee, and tonight tried to wrangle a ball-on-rope off a golden retriever, but he wasn't having any of it. Da-a-ad..... When's Christmas?

The cats, meanwhile, think they have got away without being "Frontline"d, but Mum was at Mississippi with the fine-tooth comb (=nit comb) while the two were sitting in the easy chairs warming their knees at the coal fire last night, and I have heard the humans plotting. I'm thinking those cats are gonna get sorted as soon as Mum is home from work

We are, it seems, a constant source of education - no local Mum can resist, when they come upon us, asking their toddlers "How many Doggies?". All local children will have a firm grounding in counting up to three, anyway. Most of them get it right, but Dad was chuckling at one little pink-clad mite tonight who proudly declared "One... Two.... Six!"


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