Well there’s thanks for you. We dig the garden and what do we get in return? Do we get a pat or better still extra pocket money? No, we get shut inside until peculiar wigwam like structures have been erected to ‘protect’ the plants from our endeavours. Ok, so I can see that exposing the roots probably wasn’t the best approach, or for that matter leaving the soil all over the grass, but we had dug it thoroughly. We even remembered to clean our paws before coming back in the house. Of course that was mainly because we had wiped them all over my Mistress’s trousers, but we had at least put some thought into it. The good news is that at last my Mistress has found a use for all the willow she bought and then didn’t get round to using. It is now protecting the plants from any further onslaught. Ah well, the bonemeal was good while it lasted. Thankfully, my Master still isn’t prepared to acknowledge that the solution in future is for them not to use bonemeal in the back garden. He is under the mistaken impression that we can be trained to leave it alone. Who is he kidding? Does he have no comprehension of just how good it smells to us? It would be like pulling a fresh pint of beer and leaving it in front of him when he is thirsty and saying, ‘Don’t drink that.’ He’d never be able to resist the odd sip. Then one thing would lead to another and the pint would have gone.
It was very sad waving my Mistress, James and the girls off in the car this morning. I don’t mine admitting I shed a little tear. I’m the one who is supposed to be my Mistress’s constant companion and she is supposed to be mine. We did have a nice cuddle before she set off and she has promised to take me away for a weekend when she gets back, just the two of us, which is some consolation. I went and curled up on her side of the bed so I could feel closer to her.