It’s important on these cold winter evenings, Friends, to make oneself very comfortable. Gingercat and I both managed to do this last evening on a nice fleecy blanket on the sofa, leaving just enough room for Young Lad by the side of the fleecy blanket. Young Lad’s feet might have benefited from being under the warm blanket, as you can see, but there simply wasn’t room. I was extremely content here for the evening, and slept like a log.
Before I go on, I need to talk to you about a TRAVESTY that appeared in the national press last week. There has been some survey or other about the one hundred most popular breeds of dog. Beagles came in 31st place. Yes, you heard me, 31st!!! What utter and complete nonsense, and what an insult to my breed. For the love of God, we were only one place above the HIDEOUS English Bull Terrier! Have you seen one of those?
I mean, really! Position number 32 and position number 31? I don’t think so! What on earth were these people thinking? And we were THREE PLACES BELOW the absurd Welsh Pembroke Corgi. I’ve no idea who participated in this ridiculous survey, but they clearly have no taste whatsoever. Do you know which breed was number 1? Just to confirm what I’m saying? Staffies. I will not dignify this farcical piece of research with any more of my attention.
Golly that made me cross.
I need to set the record straight about a couple of things from my last blog. Firstly, I referred to The Lovely Hairdresser’s colleague who washed out all the highlight tin foils. This was in fact The Lovely Hairdresser’s boss, and thus I demoted her in one swift slip of the pen.
Equally, I have thought long and hard about Buddy the Replacement for Rocco the Inspirational Three-Legged Labrador. Now, clearly nobody could ever replace Rocco, so this was not an appropriate name. I will henceforth call Buddy; Buddy The Bouncy Labrador. Thus Rocco can rest in peace and not think he has been replaced by an exuberant sandy coloured Lab.
I feel better for those small corrections. I like to be fastidious over details.
On my long walk yesterday, I bumped into Barney The Oh So Adorable Beagle who always leans against people’s legs in an endearing way. Usually I find Barney a tad irritating in this respect, but yesterday he and I found some Cheerios that someone had thrown on the grass so we bonded in our hoovering up of small circular bits of cereal. Barney has been quite bad at home recently, I was pleased to hear, and made off with a packet of bread from the work surface. Well done, Barney, keep up the good work.
Today was even nicer up in the fields – cold, to be sure, but a beautiful clear blue sky and bright sunshine. I was in such a wonderful frame of mind as we stomped round Top Field, and suddenly disappeared into the overgrown scrubland in the middle. There was some panicky shrieking and blowing of the whistle, as She couldn’t see me anywhere; really I seemed to be lost for good. Then, with a high-pitched squeaking sound that is my Hunting Cry, I came charging out of the scrubland chasing a pheasant!! Yes! I was only centimeters away from my prey, and made an incredible racket as I squeaked and squawked after it. Fancy little old me, flushing out a pheasant!! This is what I’ve been bred for, I thought to myself, as the pheasant flew away laughing. It was a most satisfying few minutes and could only have been improved by actually catching the damned thing.
There has been the usual nagging about homework here today, it being Sunday, but at least no adults have had the temerity to sit down and do Young Lad’s homework for him. There was a dull conversation about ten gurus, or something like that, in which Young Lad had to decide which of ten gurus he thought was the most important and why. How this will benefit him in the future I have no idea and I would have the thought the time could have been better spent writing a letter of complaint to whoever thought up that silly survey of the 100 most popular dogs.
After the nagging about homework it was time for Young Lad’s football match, which involved donning a lot of layers of clothes and making up a flask of tea. Really, it’s an hour and half standing by an astroturf, not reaching the summit of Snowdon. We do over-react in this house. Once they came home after football, She was still so cold that She forced Lad to leave the house and join her in Costalotta for a hot chocolate, to warm up. Imagine the disappointment when it transpired Costalotta’s machine was broken and they couldn’t serve any drinks that involved steam or milk. The drawbacks of modern technology, Friends. Had they simply had a saucepan and a stove, they could still have served hot chocolate.
And so we begin another week. I won’t be having daycare at dear, dear Pippa’s house this week as they have a lot going on, and I will miss her dreadfully. We will have so much to catch up on, the week afterwards. I will be seeing dear Ebony later in the week, but for a couple of days we are having to rely on the mercy of the neighbours yet again, to let me out for a comfort break while everyone is at work/school. I really feel too much is expected of Lovelyneighbourontheright at times, and it just isn’t on.
Mind you, there is some opportunity this week for playing up. I will be here on my own for some of the time, and you all know how I find ways to amuse myself. No cupboard/bin/ corner will be safe. I will be sure to take photographic evidence and let you know how I get on.
Time for a sleep, I feel.
31st place indeed.
Bye for now,