My den

Mistress has agreed to write a few more posts for me this week so I don’t have an empty blog. So that’s good.

Yesterday we were all out on the front terrace and I was standing patiently looking at my ball. It had rolled between two plantpots.

Mistress was faffing around doing something useless.

“Oh, Pippa,” said master in his kind voice. “You can’t get your ball can you and she’s not even noticed.” That’s exactly right master, I thought.

“Get Pippa’s ball then,” he ordered. So she stopped doing nothing in particular and gave me the ball. I pretended to take her hand too, but I wasn’t really interested in it.

I scampered off with my ball to my den, and lay down with my rear end towards them so they could see I did not want any interference.

My den is a wonderful place. When it is too hot and sunny, or too windy, or even raining, I can go there and I am sheltered. It is a large table set against the wall, with plantpots and some comfy old compost bags underneath. Sometimes I gather all my toys and put them in the den.

It spotted with rain for a short while yesterday. I don’t like the rain. When I was living on the streets I used to get very wet because I didn’t have a proper home. Sometimes I would try and find shelter on the building sites, but I had to run off and hide somewhere else before the builders came back to work or some of them would throw stones at me.

Now when it rains during the day, I can just lie in my den, with my toys. Or I can always go inside and jump on the sofa if it rains too heavily and I start to get wet.

Advertisements

Thank you for any comment. Please check back next time you visit, as I like to reply to all barks, woos, and mews

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s