Sunday 26th February 2006

Well I am now 15 weeks old and boy doesn’t time fly. It is amazing how much learning you can pack into a short space of time. Only a few weeks ago I had never come across an acorn and now, squirrel or no squirrel, I am addicted to them. I feel guilty every time I eat one and think I could be returning it to her, to replace the ones I pinched, but I just can’t stop myself eating them. The rate I am going I am going to have to ask my mistress to take me to Acorns Anonymous.

You remember a couple of weeks ago I told you I met Mackenzie the corgi, well at the time we were about the same size. Admittedly my legs were more in proportion to my body size but somehow despite that she could still corner better than me. Anyway, I have seen her again and something very strange has happened. I’m not sure whether she has been reading Alice in Wonderland and trying out similar ‘drinks’ but she seems to have shrunk. It is really quite pronounced. If we had stood shoulder to shoulder (not that I stood still long enough for that) two weeks ago we were about the same height. Now she is most definitely shorter than me. I am really very concerned. Do you think if I leave it a few more weeks she will disappear altogether?

We are reaching crunch point on the jigsaw. In one respect I am looking forward to finding out precisely which piece it was I ate last week, but in another I know there is going to be trouble! I wonder if my mistress would be happier if it was just a nondescript piece rather than a piece of Santa and his reindeer? Unfortunately until she finishes I shall not actually know which it is. If I could have worked out where it went at the time I would have fitted it rather than eat it in frustration.

There are odd times that I think my mistress can really be very unreasonable, a point on which I regularly find the master agrees. There I was, under the table, minding my own business. Incidentally this is not usually the location you can find the master when he thinks the mistress is being unreasonable, in fact I don’t think I have found him under the table very often, if at all! Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, minding my own business when I got told off for chewing. “Oi” she said. Not the politest of introductions, “give me that”. I politely refused. “No, it’s my twig, I brought it in form the garden. If you want one then please be kind enough to go and get your own.” What is the world coming to when a dog can’t chew his own twig in peace and quiet?