I am busy arranging my work Christmas party. It doesn’t take much doing really, there’s only me and my Mistress who work in our office and then my Master joins us occasionally. The biggest problem as a dog is finding places that will take you seriously when you ring up to make a booking. I get as far as giving my name as ‘Alfie Dog’ and they assume I’m just some joker and hang up on me. I guess it must be like this for humans whose parents gave them unfortunate names. There is no one with the surname ‘Dog’ in our phone book, there’s a Dogan and a couple of Doggets. Let’s be honest, Dogget is more unfortunate than Dog as surname’s go, perhaps I should ring them and ask if they ever have this problem.
In the end I have given in to my Mistress’s suggestion of her and me having a quiet Christmas party of our own at home. Neither one of us is a party animal, so we’ll probably be happier that way. I asked if we could try the ‘Pin the nose on Rudolph’ crackers that she’s bought, but apparently I’ve got to wait until Christmas day to try those.
One very good thing that has happened is that the caravan with very noisy dogs that was parked on my favourite walk has gone. The caravan itself wasn’t doing any harm but I got into a shouting match with the dogs every time we went past and to be honest, even I can see that my behaviour was getting a little out of hand. It has meant that in the interest of my Mistress’s sanity we have been walking a different route, but we didn’t like that as much. We are both happy to have the land back. We went on a long muddy walk to celebrate.