Readers, I have never encountered anything like it in my life. Do you know what happened yesterday? Pippa’s Pack Leader came round and said I was to sign a copy of my book for her. She has painted dog paw-prints before, it seems, and the plan was to simply brush some paint onto my paw and press my foot onto the page.
Well. I was having none of it. I am a famous author now, and it is entirely beneath me to do such things. Plus I make a dreadful fuss whenever anyone tries to look at my ears/paws/any part of me at all, and you all know full well that I have to be muzzled for these things. It was AWFUL, Readers, simply AWFUL. Pippa’s Pack Leader tried to brush my paw with this hideous paintbrush so I wrinkled my nose and snapped to make it clear this wasn’t on. They had to think of a Plan B.
Plan B was for She to hold me down with one hand and grab my paw with the other. Then Pippa’s Pack Leader tried to force my paw into a plastic tub of black paint. I ask you. I whinged and moaned and wriggled around so that all they got on the page of the book was a black splodge, though they did manage to cover their own hands in black paint, which then transferred onto everything they touched. Including my chest, back and armpits.
This ridiculous idea had been ill thought-through, Readers. For a start the calm, whimsical paw painting that had been anticipated took place in the lounge, where there is a beige carpet. Once they realised that their hands, my paws and half of my body were covered in black paint, there was a dilemma. How to get me out of the lounge without walking black paint all over the carpet? What shoddy planning. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have undertaken this assignment in the garden – but then anyone with an ounce of common sense wouldn’t have done anything so demeaning to me in the first place.
Well, it served them right. That was my first and last book-signing session, so the six people whose books were splodged are very, very lucky. These will be worth a lot of money in the future.
So how to get me out of the lounge without marking the carpet? Are you ready for this? The two of them wrapped me in the sheet on which I was lying, swaddled me in it, picked me up between them and carried me out into the garden where they threw me in the paddling pool. This is gross negligence of the highest order and I simply will not put up with this.
In other news, Young Lad has now broken up from school for the summer, and seems extremely pleased about this. He had to walk all the way home today and is very tired, poor Young Lad. He is looking forward to six weeks of no 6am alarms, and plenty of time on the sofa. Lad, on the other hand, has been quite helpful today and took me out for a lovely walk this morning. We saw my friend Jake by the river – Jake is a highly intelligent springer spaniel who is sometimes used as a gun dog, due to his intellect. Jake and I have much in common.
So He, Lad and Young Lad were all home by 5pm and patiently sat and waited for She to return from work so that they could eat. In the end Lad very cleverly started cooking fish fingers, which shows a pleasing level of initiative, and then the day was saved by her decision to bring in fish and chips with her, as She was too bldytired after a longbldyweek to cook anything. The timing was unfortunate as Lad had just sat down with a plate of fish fingers and oven chips, but being stoic he managed that and his portion of fish and chips. Well done, Lad. It all smelled divine and I did a lot of loud whining and stamped my feet a bit. It got me nowhere.
Friends, I have something to tell you. I hope you are sitting down with a glass of something strong – if not, quickly go and get something.
This is going to come as a Great Shock. It did to me, too. There won’t be any blog for – gulp- over three weeks. You heard right, three weeks. In an unprecendented act of selfishness they are going away; a very, very long way away. In fact, they couldn’t get further away from me geographically if they tried. This sends a clear message and I am stunned. Two large suitcases have been bought in preparation as for the first time ever, they’re “not going bldyRyanair and takingbldy handluggageonly.” No, Readers, they are going way beyond the reach of the blue and yellow airline, and so Big Suitcases were needed. The only thing that is cheering me up tonight is that it’s now quarter past nine in the evening, and nobody has put a single thing into a suitcase yet.
I can already envisage the stressy scrambling around tomorrow morning trying to bldy pack and the ensuing carnage. It serves them right. Unbelievable.
You will be wondering what on earth is going to happen to me. Well, He is looking after me for a few days as He isn’t flying out until a week later, and when He leaves I will be going to stay with Grandma. This is my annual holiday and the only good thing about the whole sorry mess. Grandma does love me and spends loads of time with me, plus she cooks very lovely food, so I will be ok. Traumatised, but ok.
What about Gingercat, I hear you ask? Well the level of selfishness just gets worse. In order to go and enjoy themselves elsewhere, Lovelydor down the road has been forced to come and feed Gingercat every afternoon, while Lovelyneighbourontheright has no choice but to do the same every morning. It beggars belief how many people are ‘used’ in this way just so that they can bugger off.
If I hear one more word about “been a hard few years/need a break/new adventure/bit of a treat” I will scream. They should try my life to see what a hard life is! Being held down and your paw forcibly dipped into black paint! I need a break, never mind them.
What will you do without my blog for the next few weeks, Friends? Talk to people? Go out? Have a normal social life instead of racing home every evening to read my ramblings? Oh Readers, I am so, so sorry to be letting you down and can only apologise. I will be back with you as soon as they can be bothered to come home.
In the meantime, why don’t you buy my book?! That way you can still hear me whispering to you of an evening and it will be like I’ve never been away.
Meghan Markle NEVER goes off for three weeks and dumps her Beagle with relatives. Or staff.
Oh Readers. I’ll be back as soon as I can.