Pets on the Settee
Ah, June! The month of long days when romance, like the waft of summer blooms, hangs in the air promising so much... But delivering nothing in my case.
Yes folks, I have decided to hang up my glad rags and not bother with chappy dogs any more as they seem more interested in watching Euro 2008 and other manly stuff during the summer.
I have been hanging out instead with my friend, you know the one who visits and then out-stares me whilst we lie in the kitchen.You know, the friend who is as old as me and we are both too elderly to sniff or glare at each other so we just fall asleep either end of the kitchen. But I am beginning to enjoy her company; she seems quite nice.Well, she doesn’t say much and she doesn’t nick my dog biscuits so that’s enough for me. She’s a bit smelly; does someone want to have a word with her about the Eau of Old Dog that hangs round the house even when she is not here? I can’t imagine what else it would be.
We are still having trips to the Carrie Van where everything is just like a house only smaller and wedged into a tin. It has still not broken loose of whatever it is that stops it from rolling down the hill and into the sea but we live in hope!
Regular readers know that I like to write a poem now and then, so I have written one about my new friend. New friend / You can’t pretend / That you don’t smell / cos you sure as Hell (do).
Good eh? Here’s another. New friend / You’re like a bookend / But that would make you an old friend / just like the Simon & Garfunkel song about old folk sat on a bench or something oh I like that song don’t you though it’s a bit sad. Oh dear the last line’s a bit long isn’t it readers?!
So, when our house isn’t smelling of Old Dog it
is smelling of Wet Dog. It has been hot then rainy
and then hot and then rainy, crikey it has been
driving me mad! As Fran in the Rescue office says,
it is raining cats and dogs and there are poodles in
the road. Now this disturbed me, as the poodles
need to get out of the way of the oncoming traffic!
But Fran explained that it’s a play on the word
puddles – see, there are puddles / poodles in the road? It’s clever but I don’t
have the heart to tell Fran that her word play could send millions of curly fancy
clipped lap dogs daintily trotting into the path of steam rollers. And how would
she sleep at night, knowing that lots of ladies are without their little pets and
grooming parlours are closing down daily? Fran doesn’t think these things
through. So if you are a poodle and it is raining do not, I repeat do not, stand in
the road. Phew! I diverted that catastrophe.
I have been on my hols since I last wrote to you (well I had to in order to escape the press attention I was getting and the texts from that actress were getting silly.) I went to Dorset. It was very nice. It was a bit like Suffolk only not in East Anglia and a bit more hilly. I think; as you know my eyesight isn’t much cop these days.We had a super time, and Mummy had a break which was just what she needed as she does work hard bringing Rescue magazine to you all.Where are you going on your hols? Please do tell me!
As I type this, Cheesy & Crusty my two little elderly Jack Russell chums are just finishing a holiday in Norfolk. But, like me, will they actually be aware they are anywhere different? I expect it all smells very different. Actually Norfolk smells of farms, don’t you agree? Unlike where I live, that smells of roses and freshly mown grass.And Old Dog.
Pepsi the Westie is very well, and has had her hair cut and now she is all nicely posh and proper. She is a nice little dog, and has been enjoying some trips to the seaside again where she loves to just run and run and run. Mind you the other day she ran off chasing another little dog who wasn’t quite as friendly and wasn’t allowed to play, and the owner gave Pepsi’s Mummy a jolly long hard stare like Paddington.Whoops!
Talking of the seaside, I too have been to the coast. Yes, they have been making me stay in the tin can again, where everything is just like you have at home only smaller with less floor place. Oh, I moan about caravanning but I don’t mind it really. It is a break and I like the fresh air and the chance to feel the breeze ruffle my ears. I like a chip now and then as well, and if Mummy doesn’t offer me one I nick one off the floor. I like them when they have been next to the bins for a few hours and the ketchup is all congealed.
Yes, our caravan is very comfy – as regular readers now, I like to pretend that I am Liz Hurley hiding from the press and that makes it feel a bit more glam. Last time we went, I pretended I was Posh Spice waiting in her motor-home thing waiting to go on stage. It was a fun daydream until Mummy woke me up from it by asking me if I wanted a pee. (I did actually!)
Well no other news from me so I will leave you with one last little poem: I love my readers but they should write more / Get a pencil and write with your paw / Or find some ink and spill it on the floor / Then walk around the room writing "Carrie, encore!"
Summer fun to you all,
Carrie xxx