Well my Mistress has been overdoing it and now she doesn’t feel very well. It’s not as though she’s got a lot on this week, just the small matter of a house move. Still I’m sure she’ll be fine, although she says she’d like a long holiday first. At the moment in our old house everything is in the wrong places. You go running round a corner expecting to be able to turn round and run back, only to find you have run headlong into a box. It’s not so bad when you find it’s an empty box that can almost be fun as it causes bedlam and makes a loud noise. The problem comes when the box you ran into was full and you come to a crashing stop rubbing your nose and wondering what hit you. My Mistress said we aren’t the only ones doing that, but in her case she doesn’t tend to be running when she hits it. It’s a good job that bruises on dogs aren’t so obvious, someone would be accusing my Mistress of mistreating us, but then if they looked at her legs they would think she’d been beaten up in the process.
There is a song ‘Wherever I lay my hat, that’s my home’. I’ve been wondering what the dog equivalent is. It comes down either to wherever you find my blanket, or wherever my box of food is. I’m inclined to think it’s probably the food. If a were a romantic sort of dog, which of course I couldn’t possibly profess to being, I’d say it was wherever my Mistress is, that’s my home. It’s true, but don’t let her know that will you. If she knew that, she might move meal times down the list of priorities.