Not content to completely besmirch Santa\u2019s good name for her own pleasure, my mistress has only gone and sent a poem about Santa to a national newspaper. Why does she do these things? Doesn\u2019t she realise we might not get any presents this year now, because of her actions. Santa, if you are reading this, it wasn\u2019t me. I didn\u2019t have anything to do with it. I didn\u2019t even give her the idea. I\u2019ve been a good dog, really I have and I still deserve a present. Oh and I\u2019m friends with a deer that says he knows Rudolph if that helps too.<\/p>\n
I suppose I can\u2019t be too cross with her, she is trying to take me on lots of lovely long walks in an attempt to walk off my expanded waistline rather than have to be too harsh on my diet. The fact that I drool everywhere while my mistress is eating, makes her feel guilty if she doesn\u2019t give me any. Quite apart from which, sharing everything together has become a special part of our relationship, or so I like to point out to her on the odd occasions she thinks of leaving me out. She can\u2019t bear to shut me in my room, so that I don\u2019t drool everywhere, although her conscience does seem to let her shut me in there rather than bring mud all through the house. I suppose from a cleaning point of view, the drool is in small concentrated puddles rather than liberally sprinkled all over the floor, settee and bedclothes. Perhaps if I could just leave the mud in a neat pile somewhere I wouldn\u2019t be shut in then either. I\u2019m putting a bid in for us to live a bit more above sea level when we go back to England, in the hope that I won\u2019t be up to me knees in mud at the first sight of rain.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"