Sometimes when I am asleep I have nice dreams, of smoked Salmon on a bagel or the smell of Boofer’s tail. As I open my eyes all warm and cosy a smell assaults my nose. It’s the Wizzle. She’s stuck her arse in my face again. In those moments between awake and sleep I forget I am forced to live with an idiot lilac point who is scared of envelopes.She crossed the line last week. She played with MY Bug. She knows that this toy is MINE. I have spent months breaking the bug’s will. Months of carefully designed torture techniques; and she comes in and “pats” it around. For such insolence I attacked her while she slept. But the furless ones chastised ME! I gave them evils but they still cooed over the simple one. Still at 3am on Sunday morning I asserted my dominance over the bug, furless ones and Wimble. I announced the catching of the bug at the top of my lungs. The furless Mum yelled “Sharlie you nut job it’s the middle of the night”.
Ah, my work is done.
