There’s something wrong with the two-legs. She’s not broken exactly, but she’s not working right. I keep having to remind her about impotant things… like my dinner. ‘Off colour’ she calls it… I thought that only happened to the fish when they go weird, but no. This time she’s right…she is a funny colour.
Normally my two-legs is sort of pale pink. Well, she calls it pink. I wouldn’t … more like an earthworm or that pastry stuff she makes. By this time of year she is normally browning nicely with the sun, but well… she’s looking more sort of undercooked at present. Most of the time anyway.
Till evening comes and she gets weirder…
It’s not the heating…she turned that off ages ago, even though it isn’t very warm yet. I was glad about that though, ’cause it was playing havoc with my spring moult, you know… hair falling out all over the place… But anyway, normally she complains at me for keeping the doors open all evening. Now, cows or not, she has ’em wide open and bits of clothes keep being taken off and flung around. Her paws get all swollen up and she’s definitely pink…in the same way that ‘hunting pink’ is… bright red.
Don’t mention hunting though… she’s not happy about that at present. She sounded like a cat spitting when she heard some people were trying to bring it back. I mean, sure…I’d chase a fox …but only if it would play with me. You have to be careful with foxes around here anyway…at least the ones she knows ’cause they look as if they can take care of themselves pretty well.
You know I mentioned the cows? They’re back. Stuffing their heads into my garden and eating all the blossom from the May trees? She crept that one up on me! I thought, after I’d had words with them several times last year, that the cows had gone for good…but no. She says they’ll be back every year! Every year!!! I soon got hoarse barking at them, I can tell you, so now I’m giving them the cold shoulder. Ignoring them. She says that won’t work either… but from
my perspeckt where I am, it seems a bit more dignified.
So what with looking out for the two-legged lobster, guarding the garden from curious cows and patrolling for pigeons, I’m run off my feet here.
Now, far be it from me to suggest that if she didn’t gallivant quite so much without me, I’d be able to keep a much closer eye on her… maybe protect her from germs ‘n stuff too, you know? But you see what it is… all that ‘no dogs allowed’ stuff she warbles on about. Not that she’s warbling exactly… not unless frogs warble anyway.
So, that just leaves me looking after the two-legs when she gets back… and if that means I have to go without some of my walks cause she’s snoring* and just cuddle on the sofa a lot, well, we all do that kind of stuff when we love someone. Even when that someone is a daft two-legs that should know better…
Which is why I’m writing this. Give her paws a rest, you know… maybe she’ll throw the ball a bit better then. Look…exercise is good for her, whether she’s gone wonky or not.
Better get back to the sofa though…