Sidelined
I thought I was being sidelined. It seems like ages since they’ve let me write to you. So, how’ve you been? I seem to be getting more grey hairs, but other than that I’m still the same handsome dog underneath. I’ve reached that age where live seems to be in a bit of a rut and I think I’m due a mid-life crisis. I’m going to be seven next month, which will move me into the ‘senior’ category. How did that happen?
How I see myself
In terms of having a crisis I think I just need to express myself. I don’t know how other see me, but I see myself as the sort of dog who drives an open top classic car, wearing a white silk scarf. A devilishly handsome dog who only has to raise an eyebrow to have all the girls swooning. That image is quickly dented when our Mistress calls me ‘her little peanut’ in reference to how small I was when I was born. Oh I know she loves me, but she could find a better nickname for me.
Alfie not himself
Alfie hasn’t been feeling quite himself the last few days. Usually he’s very good at telling our Mistress what’s wrong, but he’s struggling this time. She knows he’s distressed, he’s managed to explain that and he’s asked her to examine him all over. She’s done that but can’t find the problem. She’s hoping it’s just his dementia having a bad patch but she’s asked us all to keep an eye on him. Our Mistress has to go away for a few days so she’s worried. Wilma has promised to take special care of Alfie and let our Mistress know how he is. I’ve promised to keep out of his way so I don’t add to his distress. Apparently now is not the time for me to play practical jokes on him. I think that’s a shame. I could have cheered him up!
Have a great Saturday
Aristotle
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