Yum, Readers, I have just snatched a delicious hash brown from Lad’s plate and run off with it. Lad wasn’t paying attention and his reflexes weren’t fast enough for me. The hash brown was gone in a mere two gulps, but I did enjoy it – to be fair I’m not keen on barbecue sauce, and would have preferred it if Lad hadn’t added this to the plate, but beggars can’t be choosers.
The observant amongst you will be wondering why on earth Lad is having to eat processed nonsense for dinner, and also why he’s eating from a plate on the sofa rather than sitting up at the dinner table. Well, Readers, civilised family mealtimes don’t happen on Wednesday nights – historically this was due to indoor cricket training but is now due to outdoor football training. Wednesday nights seem very popular for this kind of physical activity and it has caused something of a dilemma and some heartache trying to choose which to attend.
Anyway I digress. Wednesdays are still as rubbish as they used to be, as nobody gets home till late and then they rush straight out again. Thus poor Lad had to eat a beige meal of hash browns and other freezer food, sitting on the sofa. This is poor parenting.
Do you know what, stealing that hash brown has given me a certain spring in my step, and I followed it by leaping onto the sofa and trying to grab Young Lad’s flapjack from his plate. This time someone’s reflexes were fast enough, and She grabbed my collar at the last second. This annoyed me and I will now only get a few crumbs of flapjack as opposed to the whole square. In fact, I have just stood on top of Young Lad as he reclines on the sofa, planting my feet squarely across him and making a dive to the plate so that I could lick up the flapjack crumbs. Unfortunately as I turned round, with my rear end towards his face, I had a little escape of gas which Young Lad found very funny but She says is vulgar.
I tried a new trick tonight, Readers, taking advantage of all the dashing around and stress that is a Wednesday night here. I stood in the kitchen and barked, looking at my food bowl. She came out and said, oh dear haven’t you been fed you poor little boy, or words to that effect. In fact it was “Oh for God’s sake hasn’t anyone fed the ruddy dog?” but it has almost the same meaning. Young Lad said he thought he had fed me, then said he wasn’t sure – maybe it was his friend that fed me when they came in from school together. Helpfully Young Lad could remember feeding Gingercat. I barked and looked sadly at my food bowl again, and with much tutting and sighing I was given a small meal.
Readers, Young Lad’s friend had given me a lovely bowl of food at 3.55pm.
This was a cunning plan which I will use again soon.
I’ve been to dear, dear Ebony’s house today and this is quite surprising as they would be perfectly within their rights to never let me darken their doorstep again. Yesterday I was Very Bad. Very, Very Bad. Look, Ebony was Very Bad as well, but seemingly it’s a worse crime for me to have been Very Bad as I was the guest. Ebony’s Pack Leader put us in the car and took us somewhere different for a walk – a splendid walk across some fields. There were wonderful smells and sights, and Ebony and I followed our noses all over the place.
Ebony’s Pack Leader turned round to find us at one point, Friends, and couldn’t believe her eyes. There, across the field, were eight legs waving in the air. Yes, eight!! How she laughed as she started screaming and running across the field towards us – oh, twas a funny sight to see all these waving legs.
It wasn’t fox poo, Readers. It wasn’t cow pats. The substance we were rolling in hadn’t been produced by a creature with four legs. I will say no more than that.
The smell was indescribable. Ebony’s Pack Leader put us back in the crate in the car, took us home (gagging all the way) and threw buckets of water over us in the garden. I felt this lacked a little finesse, but didn’t like to say anything. More buckets of water, and some scrubbing. It didn’t end there – later on, once our fur had dried, Ebony’s Pack Leader tried Bicarbonate of Soda to neutralise the fragrance. This didn’t work so, unbelievably, she resorted to perfume.
It was a good job that Ebony’s Pack Leader didn’t have anything to do yesterday and could devote her entire day to getting rid of the smell. To be honest I think she might have been a bit bored if we hadn’t given her this task.
The perfume didn’t work. I still stank.
Once She got home from work I was forced into the new shower and shampooed yet again from head to foot. I couldn’t have a bath as He was lying in it after a cold day at work and there wasn’t room for both of us.
Because of my abhorrent behaviour, I wasn’t allowed to sleep in the bedrooms last night . I had to sleep in my OWN bed on the landing. This is outrageous and I made my protest known by snoring loudly all night.
Honestly, it was exhausting with all the bowls of water and scrubbing and showers. Ebony’s Pack Leader will never take us back to that field again and played safe today by going to the river.
Lad is very tired tonight as there is only one train an hour from the station near his school to our town, and this is STUPID. Lad had to wait FIFTY STUPID minutes tonight for a train and then walk home from the station – poor Lad. This is too much for anyone. You would think Lad could be greeted with a home-cooked nutritious meal, rather than a curt text message saying “fball. Dinner oven. 6.30” I mean really, where is the love and parenting in this?
Even Young Lad was poorly catered for tonight, as he and his friend had forgotten to make themselves anything to eat so She had to produce something in the space of five bldyminutes. Young Lad’s friend says that She is a brilliant cook and makes lovely dinners. Readers, it was beans on toast.
Well, let’s hope now that my fur smells nice again I can be allowed back in a bedroom tonight. If not I will have to snore loudly for the second night running.
See you soon,