Sunday 1st February 2009

I’ve been thinking about birthdays. If a dog year counts as seven human years, why don’t I get seven birthdays a year? I wouldn’t mind if they were evenly spaced out or whether we selected which dates were appropriate. Obviously I would have November 13th as that is my real birthday. I wouldn’t need one in December as I get Christmas presents then. I could have one in January to celebrate my arrival of living with my Mistress. I’d skip February in the hope that I’d get a valentine present and then miss either March or April depending on when Easter fell, but have a birthday in the other one. That would leave me four birthdays between May and October, which given there are only six months would mean I had almost every month covered. There are clearly some advantages of being a dog.

My Mistress has found a solution to the jigsaw problem. The problem is that basically there is less table free than there is jigsaw, so she’s bought a special board. The theory would have worked well had she not decided to work on the bed, with the board on her legs. I, naturally, had to jump up onto the bed to see what she was doing. My jumping inevitably changed what she was doing from neatly putting together the jigsaw edge to searching amongst the bed clothes for the lost pieces. How was I to know?

The jigsaw has proved as successful as her attempt to have a tidy lounge. After much grumbling and I really do mean ‘much’ we all gave in and put away all the things that we had left out, lying in odd places in the lounge. We waited until she had inspected our efforts and declared herself satisfied and then as soon as she was gone, we started getting everything back out again and leaving it around. She really ought to have learnt by now exactly which battles are worth fighting!