Monday 23rd June 2008

To my absolute horror I have been brought to the kennels for a few days. From my, admittedly somewhat spoilt, perspective this is not dissimilar to being imprisoned and yet I’ve done no crime. I’m in a smallish cell for a large number of hours a day. I don’t have access to most of my toys. I don’t have the duvet to curl up on, or the king sized bed underneath it for that matter. I don’t have humans at my beck and call and worst of all it’s going to mean I miss my friends at dog training tonight. Oh we get to use the exercise ring for limited amounts of time each day and I am allowed to socialise with the other dogs during that time. It feels as though I should be going up to one of them surreptitiously and saying ‘have you got any dog biscuits to swap for a cigarette’, not that I’ve got any cigarettes. I did wonder about trying to win extra food rations by means of a game of cards but the other dogs don’t stand still long enough. From the discussion with my Mistress when she brought me in, it seems I have been sentenced to a week imprisonment for unspecified crimes.  Is it a crime not to like cities? Is being nervous of the loud noises that buses make such a bad thing? My Mistress said I was so upset going to Nice last time that she didn’t think I’d want to go again. Did she tell me that the alternative was a week in the cells? No. Now let’s just look at this logically, I admit I didn’t like the busy city life but I suspect I like imprisonment rather less, yet here I am. I’m thinking of using the time to write some epic poem of my traumatic ordeal.