Oh I am so excited. I’m going on a surprise trip today. I can’t tell you any more or it wouldn’t be a surprise. I’m glad we’re doing something today, otherwise from a dog’s perspective it would feel very quiet with James not here.
Living in the countryside does have its alarming side. Until now I have been used to meat being something that arrives in packages from the supermarket. Now I’m not a squeamish dog, unless needles are involved but that’s another story. However, the notice board outside the pub actually tells you which farm the meat comes from. The next thing will be telling us exactly which animal. Can you imagine trying to sit down to a nice juicy steak, knowing that you are eating Daisy from the field up the road? It really wouldn’t feel right to be on first name terms with my tea. It feels a bit different to have said hello to the hens that lay the eggs that James used to bake a cake, they are still alive and running around, the hens not the eggs. I’ve not seen the cake do much running come to that. I think the only solution is to seem a bit stand offish with the local cows, pigs and sheep and not actually to introduce myself to them. I’m starting to feel I might have to say ‘hello, I’m Alfie, I may be your future eater.’ On a lighter note, the steak did taste particularly good.
Alarmingly, my mistress has said that I need to get used to staying at the local kennels so that she can go away without me. Why would she want to go away without me? To be fair I don’t think she does want to but England isn’t as understanding of dogs in hotels, even when they are as well behaved as I am.