We’re not talking.
I know, I should be more patient with her…she’s only a two-legs after all, but honestly…
First she goes off, then comes back…only to go off again. Then, when she does come back, she’s all at sixes and sevens, whatever they are, and she’s running out when she should be in and home when she should be out and then out for ages and ages. Not good enough. You just can’t get the two-legses these days.
When she finally decides to start behaving a bit, instead of nice cuddles and longer walks…just by way of compensation, you understand… she sniffs at me and starts muttering about baths. She won’t try that again in a hurry though… I can make enough mess with the water without her being dragged in too 😉
Then she tried to cut my nails. Honest! Maybe she’d like to paint them silly colours like hers too? Still, she said some very strange words and gave up after a bit. Says it’s a two-two-legs job. Which, I believe, makes it a four-legs job so she can just leave well alone.
That’s just the normal sort of stuff I have to put up with. But then she didn’t come home till after dark…and she never does that. Well, not for ages. Or unless she’s fetching the ball-guy… but she came back without him. And I was all excited too… had the balls lined up and everything. She claims it isn’t her fault but the clock’s and that she wouldn’t alter the clock unless she had to. Don’t see why she should…she never looks at it anyway. But no, she says, They say the clocks have to go back so it’ll be darker longer if she’s late. So, instead of taking responsibility, she’s just blaming it all on inanimate objects instead.
I tell you, she’s lost it.
That was all bad enough, but then, when it was dark and she was out, there were Things walking around! Knocking at the door… making funny noises and looking all white and ghoulish! She called it Halloween and said she had to go see her grandpup turn into a pumpkin. A likely story. And she left me all alone… and that’s when I saw the bones.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for bones in the normal sort of way, but I’m not keen on them walking around, you know? Mine tend to stay where I put ’em… and it worried me a bit. Skellingtons, she called them.
Bones are okay. Chasing things is okay. But I’m not sure I want to chase bones. It’s not natural!
Anyway, she seemed to be disappointed that she’d missed ’em. Said she’d bought chocolate for them. I didn’t know bones ate chocolate!
So she said she’d have to dispose of the chocolate herself. I considered it only fair that she share, under the circumstances. But no. ‘Not allowed’ was all I got. Then, just to add to the unfairness, she put onions and garlic with the chicken she’d bought… and said I couldn’t have that either! I mean, okay, she’d bought me some chicken too, but how am I supposed to look after her if she won’t let me keep her calories down?
So, we’re not speaking. Well, she is, but I’m not.
I thought I’d show her just how upset I am. I’d be quiet as a mouse. I wouldn’t keep fetching her the ball… and I wouldn’t offer to help her with her dinner either! That’d teach her!
But do you know… all she said was that I’d been such a good girlie!
I despair of her, I really do.