We spent some time out in the garden playing frisby and catching a ball. I must say my master and mistress aren’t too bad but they are not as good at tackling as I am. They tried saying that tackling wasn’t something that came into a ‘friendly’ game like that in the garden but knowing how competitive they are I just asked if they were going soft. If my mistress didn’t catch the frisby I could guarantee, with her bad back, that I could do a flying run through and take it from the ground before she could bend down to pick it up. If there was a risk she would get there first I would just bowl myself straight into her legs. At one point my master said I should have been given a yellow card but as I would have run off with it there didn’t seem much point. My mistress did say that 28kg of dog hurtling at your legs isn’t good, but I told her not to complain so much. The other thing I tried but failed on, was leaping into the air and trying to take the ball out of her hand. I got a mouth full of knuckles and biting into them wasn’t appreciated. For some reason my master told me that intimidation was not an appropriate sports tactic but he has clearly been watching different sport from me. What I didn’t have any opportunity to demonstrate was my ‘dive’, followed by rolling round on the floor pretending to be hurt, but maybe I will save that for another day.
Well I can’t stop, I’ve got to go and get myself in the car for my trip to England. I’ve resorted to a little checklist of the things I need to pack so I don’t forget anything. I suppose I could always get my grandparents to take me to buy anything I have forgotten. I have packed Miffy so she won’t get lonely while I’m away.