Trala Trala.

I just suddenly have to tell you all something about my awful dog.

He chews bloody great holes in his quite nice woollen Blanket while trying to burrow and hide. Don’t ask because I don’t know.

He then gets his head and usually one leg stuck in one of the holes. Trapped as it were. And then he just sits there until someone notices. He never even so much as whimpers. Quite possibly because he knows it is his own fault. He just sits there looking pathetic.

I generally only notice because he doesn’t come charging at the back of my knees with love and joy at my mere presence, thereby nearly rendering me comatose on the floor and wondering what hit me. But he hasn’t yet actually knocked me over. Although a time might come. My knees aren’t that good anymore.

He never wets his bed for goodness knows how long he has been trapped. It could have been all night for all I know. I amn’t getting up in the middle of the night to check.

Dogs is dogs. This one is just a bit more particuliar than most.

2 Responses to “Trala Trala.”

  1. Elizabeth Says:

    Oh, how funny! Had a good laugh.

  2. elenamitchell Says:

    I know, Liz. So do I. I must be as mad as he is.

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