My Mistress was in a good mood yesterday after finding that she’d won third prize in a sonnet writing competition. All in all, it was probably as well, sine Shadow chose that as the day to dig up the contents of the next pot of plants on the patio. The digging up was bad enough, but the traipsing of the entire root ball through the house to the hall, so that she could sit and munch in comfort, really was pushing her luck just a little far. Shadow doesn’t seem to understand the words ‘no’ or ‘leave’. This is a bit of a disadvantage in a world where they are fairly key to the efficient operation of the whole household.
I have been writing my diary for a number of years now. I am working towards its publication, together with my woodland stories and the Pet Dogs Democratic Party manifesto. That’s three books to my Mistress’s two. On that basis you would think I’m the one that should be booking onto a writing conference. I however have to go to kennels to keep an eye on Shadow while my Mistress goes on her own. To say I am disgruntled would be an understatement. My Mistress, when doing her booking, was all concerned about having ensuite accommodation. I would be happy to have no bathroom at all, but does that make a difference? No! As with all these things, I’m just the dog and I get left behind. You wait until I’m famous and get invited to things without her. I’ve been wondering if I need to apply for a credit card in my own name for when that happens, just to make sure I’m in a position to travel independently.