I don’t think she’s well. She’s cleaning stuff. Big time.
I mean, not her usual whip round with the feather duster and terrorising me with the hoover monster. Oh no, that I could cope with. Well, okay, apart from the hoover-monster. I have to protect my bed when she gets that out.
No… she’s washing stuff. And I mean, everything. I even caught her eyeing up my toys…
And it all smells weird.
She pulled up my favourite rug and now it smells of flowery stuff. Took the curtains down and now they smell the same. She’s washed the windows and started on the walls… muttering all the while about how I manage to get paw prints up them. Well if she will hang my leash up by the door, what does she expect?
There’s stuff flying out of cupboards, furniture getting moved. All the spiders are homeless since she took their webs down.
She’s even washed my sofa!
Doesn’t she understand what she is doing to my comfort zone? Or how important smells are to dogs? Just when I’d got it how I like it too…
Spring cleaning, she calls it…
…more like kennel fever, methinks.
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