A large parcel arrived today, so I asked my Mistress what on earth it was. “It’s a cow,” she said. Fair enough, I thought, she’s finally lost it. As it turns out, it really was a cow, or at least a cow hide rug. It seems they are taking their wedding anniversaries seriously. The first was paper, so they bought some paper weights with paper in them. The second was cotton, so they bought a sewing machine and lots of different coloured threads. Their third, this year, is leather, so they’ve bought a cow. Why can’t I live in a normal household?
They’ve all gone on a tour of York this morning, so Shadow and I have the house to ourselves for while. No one bothered to ask if I would like a cultural morning walking round York, which all things considered, I would have rather enjoyed. It’s one of those dogist things again, where they can’t take me because there are so many places that you can’t take any dogs except assistance dogs in. I am willing to pretend to be an assistance dog. Granny’s hearing isn’t all that good. I could have pretended to be a hearing dog and tapped her on the leg at all the key moments when someone was trying to get her attention or when there was something she needed to be aware of. If you can get dogs that help with people’s sanity, I could just have said that I was with my Mistress and was attempting to keep her more normal that she would otherwise be. I suppose some would say that if that was my role, I’m not doing a very good job of it, but that’s another story.