I have to say I am disappointed. I know it has been Easter and all that and people are busy, but…….has the phone stopped ringing with offers for my screen début? No. It hasn’t even started. I have not had one eeny weeny little offer. Nor on my comments either. Apart from Sophie La Flirtador of course. Darling beautiful Sophie. I will write about her idea another day. And equally darling and beautiful Ethel came up with a rather cute suggestion too.
For now, I am sadly disillusioned with the black and white screenworld and have returned to glorious technicolour and the things I am good at. Snoozing on my sofa, supervising mistress, howling for breakfast, toast and treats, and looking for cats.
And I have to console Misery. In fact not only is she a Misery, she is a miserable Misery. Her washing machine has stopped working. It is only six months old and this is the THIRD TIME it has packed up.
The man came yesterday to look at it and didn’t know what to do. It was ace fun. He arrived at the door and looked terrified so naturally I wanted to jump up at him and sniff him and lick him all over. Misery held onto me and told the man to come in.
He went to look at the washing machine and lay down on the floor. Excellent, I thought, in a prime (or even prone) position for me to jump on, sniff, and generally have a good time. NO. Misery sent me to sofa. But that was good too because we played the bound-on-and-off game, and see-if-I-can-get-round-mistress-to-get-at-the-man game.
Eventually mistress got bored with those games and said in her Not To Be Argued With voice – “That’s enough now Pippa. Sofa.” Pooh.
He is meant to be coming back today so we are just sitting (her) and lying (me) around waiting for him.
This washing machine business has an impact on me naturally. It means my throws will not get washed. Now although I don’t want a Pippafur-free sofa and totally clean throws, I don’t want dirty ones either. So when they get too dirty even for me, I go and lie on the floor. Which is where I have been all morning.
Misery thought about taking my throws to the laundrette, but decided that wasn’t a good idea. She thought they might charge a premium for throws covered in Pippafur, Pippadrool, and Pippagrollies.
Apparently yesterday was a bad hair day – I think she means bad fur day, so she is going to wash her fur to make it better. I bet the washing machine man comes while she is in the shower – heehee.
I am even going to let her post a picture of the flowers she bought to cheer herself up. What a kind thoughtful Pippadog I am.
(You see, Jake and Just Harry I am taking your advice).