I’ve just had a bath. I hate baths. I cower on the cold enamel dreading the jet of water coming my way. I shiver and shake and feel utterly miserable.
But when the bath is over my mood lifts and I run about like a mad flipperty skippet. When my coat’s dry I feel light and fluffy and I get lots of stroking.
I really must stop rolling in dirty, sticky, stinky things.
You can’t imagine how pleased I was to see the sun shining today. Sunshine means my owners take me for a walk without their usual moans and groans about the weather. Sure enough they bundled me in the car and fifteen minutes later, let me out at a suitable expanse of green with trees and a lake.
Well, I had a fabulous time running around chasing the wood pigeons and squirrels and, unusually, I met a handsome devil of a dog. Oh how he caught my eye with his clipped grey coat, upright stump of a tail and dapper moustache. I’d never much cared for Schnauzers before, but there was something about this one, a certain pooch panache that made me stop and stare. When the wind picked up, and whisked his owner’s trilby into the lake, he jumped into the freezing water in derring-do fashion and I was smitten.
However, as he clambered effortlessly out onto the bank with the sodden trilby in his mouth, his grateful owner patted him on the head and said “Well done Sausage.” Sausage! Sausage! How could anyone be so cruel as to call their dog Sausage? With a sad sigh I trotted off in the direction of a dashing Doberman called Rambo. Now that’s more like it.
Today is Thursday. The weather outside is vile. I’ve poked my nose out. Not even a hardy Beddy would go out in these gales.
Last night my owner lay awake all night. He says he was re-living the moment a large white mini cab tried to run him off the road, two wheels versus four, Hollywood-style. That was late on Tuesday night. The road had been deserted.
The event was still on his mind when he saw this video. It shows Tory GLA members preventing a democratic debate on road safety for the second time this year.
I’m one of the lucky ones; I live with people who adore me, look after me and lavish lots of loving attention on me. Other Bedlingtons aren’t so lucky:
My rat tail’s gone all droopy just thinking about how sad these brothers and sisters are…