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| Ou est les chats? Rocco en France - nothing to do with this post - just wanted to publish this shot. |
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| A Princess |
The
Princess walks out so as to provide the rest of the world with somebody to
adore. She trots along confident in the cut of her fur and that her topknot is
just the smartest thing - as indeed it is. But there is another side to her…
…One
of Richmal Crompton’s William stories concerns Violet Elizabeth Bott, dressed
in a frilly pink frock, demanding that she join William and the Outlaw’s red
Indian games in the woods. They did not want her but as ever she bent them to
her will. That evening William tried to return her to Mr & Mrs Bott at the
Hall, but they failed to recognise William’s mud-covered companion as their own
sweet child. Eventually, as she was led away towards the bathroom, Violet
Elizabeth wistfully lisps ‘I like boyth games.’ The Princess also sometimes
likes boy’s games and her owner is unimpressed by my returning with a
bedraggled Tibetan terrier.
Baxter,
a spaniel we walked when we first started looking after dogs, was a retired police drug sniffer dog. Nobody had told him he was retired, needless to say he could
be fun when walking on Barnes Common on a sunny day. Sadly now he is employed
in a celestial squad checking that there are no angels hiding dubious stuff in
their harps.
Humbug,
actually a delightfully affable fellow, we suspect of mentally compiling a long,
long list of things not quite up to scratch on his stays with us. Hrumph, see
that? Got fed third bowl down, not first. And another thing, the dalmation has
grabbed the corner spot on the sofa again. What did the brochure say about sofa
positions? And another thing…
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