I am a bit confused this week. I like to live my life in routine, I’m not a chap who enjoys the unexpected surprises of sudden travel or the suchlike. It’s just my way. I know where I like to lie down, I know where I rule, on top of the settee keeping guard looking out of the small window in the living room. Somebody has to protect the old boy don’t they?
Not that I can be considered brave, no no that’s not my style. I consider wagging my tail a serious enough threat against any intruder.
My other favourite place is leaning my head against a speaker stand, feeling the cool of the outside wall whilst the rhythm of sound gently (or if Him Indoors is up late with drink and Bob Dylan, the rhythm of the bass guitar) committing me to a quiet nap. I have one or two other spots to which I’ve become accustomed as well.
Then, this week, after a couple of weeks learning how I could navigate the new table the Boss decides to swap everything around in the room. Completely change positions. Puts the table down the other end, with the settee under the bay window, granddad chair taken away (with cushion!), coffee table stopping my ball chasing run etc etc. You get the idea? Brave new world sort of thing..
Bearing in mind my love of routine you will understand how I am feeling. My places have been disturbed, moved, gone away. Where do I turn my three circles before laying down against the speaker stand? There is no bloody room! How can I keep guard when I can’t see out of the bay window? Which end of the settee is mine when he plonks himself on it? It’s all been too much, I’m in despair but he seems to like it all. Even worse, he’s had a few friends call who unfortunately told him “the table looks good there” so I’m not exactly expecting a change of heart.
My title this week is quite appropriate, seeing as his hero Mr D is releasing a big box set of music that features the song of this title. I did wonder if it would help change his social alcoholic habits seeing as he’s not had much wine this week but I’m not too sure. I’ll let you know next time.
I’m equally certain that the set costs a fortune (like the big new book about Mr D he’s ordered last month) which will mean that I needn’t expect a nice Christmas present. I’ll be lucky to get a piece of chicken I reckon because he’ll be moaning about lack of funds yet again.
Fair play, he did take me out for lunch and dinner this week, so I assume he’s trying to keep me happy after the room changes. Lunch was with lovely friends by the river who apparently have a nice but anti-social cat named Tipton from whom I was kept well away. I considered a dip in the river but himself deterred me when he suggested I would have to find my own way home as there was no chance of a ride in the his car if I was dirty and wet!
Dinner was at the local Little Pack Horse pub, in which I almost qualify as a regular. We went with the lovely Rachel, who always makes sure I’m spoilt and so a rather nice bag of Tyrells Crisps came my way. I lay on the bench by the Boss; actually I almost had him off it as I stretched out, plus then I farted…hahaha…that got him moving off, leaving me soporific perfection of the whole thing.
Woof! Woof!
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