This morning, as ever, I was dragged out into a freezing gale, clad in the usual ridiculous outfit of blue coat and garish yellow neckerchief. I am now fourteen in human years – that’s ninety-eight in dog years. I would like some deeply thought out views to appear on this blog about the merits or otherwise of ninety-eight year old whippets being made to
a) go out at all in winter
b) being made to wear ludicrous clothing by their human overlords
I overheard Master talking about going to see a film called “The Miserables”, this morning. He seems to forget the fact that there is a “miserable” right in front of him – me!
And, there is a distinct shortage of my favourite bones in this house.