My chew is packed, my bed and my food and now all I have to decide is which toy I am taking with me to England this time. My mistress says I am going with her because she misses me when I’m not there but I have been a bit worried that it might be that I couldn’t go to Mackensey’s after knocking a terrier in the pond. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that they are so small and I get a bit carried away. My mistress has said I can go back and see Mackensey soon and that I’m not in trouble. I wonder if the terrier thinks that. I’m really glad I can go back I would hate to miss out on the puppies growing up. I didn’t know whether to be rather proud or, for obvious reasons, very insulted when I went to a horse show with Mackensey’s mistress and someone mistook me for the puppies mother. Yes, MOTHER! I’m a boy. I may be missing one or two bits and be similar sorts of colours but there is no way I could be a mother.
My mistress has packed her clothes straight from the ironing basket. It seems that the ‘system’ has broken down again. It’s not altogether surprising when my master doesn’t seem to be in the same country two days running. I just hope the creased look is in. I got all excited when my master came home on Monday, only to find he had only come to collect his suitcase and fly to Switzerland. I wanted him to play tug or frisby with me but sadly he didn’t have time. I tried suggesting that as I am a Swiss Mountain Dog, playing with me would be almost as good as going but it didn’t seem to make a difference.