Although my Mistress claims she isn’t superstitious, she refused to check the council website on Friday to see whether planning permission has been granted for our extension. She did look yesterday and was delighted to find that they have said yes. I’m delighted about some bits, although cautious of the threat that it will be easier to bath me with a downstairs shower. I hope for her sake she has the shower built out of something quite substantial as I’m not hanging around in clean water of my own accord and if the shower door is made of plastic I don’t fancy its chances when pitched against thirty kilogrammes of panicking dog. I had better take looking at the colour charts seriously before my Mistress makes all the decisions without me getting a say. I wonder how long it will be before I can move in.
Despite the fact that the snow seems to have gone absolutely everywhere else, it is still lingering in odd patches in our garden. I have been steadily working my way round, peeing on it to melt the rest, but there is only so much I can pee on at any one point in time and even by drinking more it’s going to take me a little while to finish the garden.
Humans really are very funny about housework. They moan about having to do it, but despite my suggestions are they prepared to adopt the ways of dogs? We have all our food out of the same bowl, so there’s less washing up. We don’t change our clothes all the time, in fact we don’t wear any at all. We don’t use a shower and towels we just lick ourselves clean. We don’t cook our food. How difficult can it be? People really would benefit by being more like their dogs.