Saturday, 18 October 2008

Betrayel is spelt WHIPPET

Well, That Whippet now claims that not only has he been playing with Green Dog, but he has also had access to Tinkly Ball! My Tinkly Ball! Well, not the original Tinkly Ball that I loved so much when I was a wee pupster, because that one mysteriously disappeared on a road trip I took with Mum and Dad, but a replacement Tinkly Ball (though to be honest I never really took too so Dylan is welcome to it, except that I'm still not getting any toy time). And I really think he must be telling the truth because he's not played with Tinkly Ball for months so wouldn't have remembered it to make up a lie about it! I, of course, never forget a toy.

What in the world is going on?

I mean, I know he's not going out on walks still on account on that crater in his pad, but is that reason to give him privileges I am denied? Is it? We asked for toys this morning, and were told in no uncertain terms to "make do with each other". Which we did, until Mum came upstairs to see what was going on because she said we sounded like "a herd of elephants", whatever they are. We were only playing chase up and down the corridor. Then Dylan got a bit overexcited (like he always does) and started tearing around the pub and had to be sat down in a corner until he could breath properly again. Muppet.

To be honest, this whole Dylan-getting-toys thing has all but collapsed the Free the Toys Campaign Committee. Last night we sat down to talk about things and, well, it just got a bit heated. I admit I was wound up by the Tinkly Ball rumours, but Dylan just didn't seem to be taking it seriously anymore! Said since he was getting toys, he didn't see why we needed to keep on with our work! I was thoroughly disheartened and may have made a rude gesture at him.

On a much more positive note, though, the more relaxed rules about the sofa seems to be continuing. It seems that if I get off whenever I am told, I don't always get told to get off, if you see what I mean? I may have caused a little set back on the bed access issue last night by being reluctant (well, refusing, to be honest) to get off when told. The bedroom door has been shut again since then. But I am trying really hard.

Don't they know how comfy that darn bed of theirs is?

1 comment:

FlossieJane said...

Hi Clive, this is your English admirer in Wales - does that make sense? I can see you are a dog of discernment and also one that cna spell! Well done, do you get tht from mum or dad?

I have read all through your blog and find this recital of your thoughts on your life most illuminating - but I do feel that you need to curb your antagonism to THAT WHIPPET. I had - sorry have - an older sister and I can tell you she did far worse things to me than THAT WHIPPET does to you and your forbidden joys, sorry toys.

You are very lucky to have a human granny who knits such smart garments, mine knitted vests (they are also designed to keep you warm) but she got carried away and they came down to my knees - count yourself lucky, mate!

However, there is one thought which - after much consideration - I have decided to share with you. Do you think your bum looks just the tiniest weeniest bit big in your smart new jumper? Perhaps you should lay off all those treats, chew slowly and try to persuade your tummy and your mind that you have had more than you've counted. Now, now, don't get too outraged, it doesn't suit your face, makes you look VERY CROSS.

Must go and see to the kitchen, a woman's work is never done, bye for