Nobody understands how difficult it can be keeping the boss under control. He goes off into his own ways too often for my liking. He’d been out the other night – some gig with Jackson Browne – and obviously had a good time. He left me for 8 hours, selfish sod. In his defence, his pal Rachel came and took me for a stroll whilst he was out. He left her some wine as well, so it may have been the alcohol bribery that brought her rather than her love of me (which is obvious, who couldn’t love me?).
When he arrived home he started on the red wine, telling me all about some great meal with nice friends although not a glimpse of food did I see for me. After seeing off the red wine whilst watching a bit of footy, I thought “here we go, bedtime and I’ll get my Dentistix (I love them, they are super dooper)” but oh no.
Suddenly this bloke Browne is spouting out of the speakers and the boss (hahaha) was at the Irish. Often. I’m tired, I want sleep but not him. We do get upstairs, still no Dentistix (alcohol affecting his memory cells I presumed), music ends and god help me, he’s on the phone to America.
40 minutes later, music back on, more whiskey and he finally remembered Dentistix. I was utterly knackered but then he starts doing stuff on the computer for this blog.
Now you see what I mean, doing his own thing until 3.30 in the morning.
I’ve been ruminating upon Brexit, as a dog of my intelligence does. I am more than a bit concerned, as it seems pretty clear that Davis has no idea what he is doing. Everytime I see him he is full of bluster and confidence but as someone once said “where’s the meat?” or “where’s the bone?”. Or something like that, anyway.
I am really pleased the weather has cooled. I was bored witless in that heatwave, to say nothing of being unable to get comfortable anywhere. Good riddance to the sun I growl, but only quietly because it appears most folks actually like it. My doggie pals don’t, I tell you.
Woof! Woof!
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