A new surprise

It seems there is a new breakfast around.

It is called scrambled eggs on toast. Or with bread. And butter. Either way, I think it is appropriate for a Pippadog.

They have scoffed this for the last few days. The only thing wrong is that while I may have got some bread or some toast, I don’t seem to have had any of those nice eggies. Why not?

Please Misery…..

Please Master…..

Saussies used to be for breakfast but now they seem to go in casserole. I want that too..

Glare. WHERE IS MY SCRAMBLED EGG ON TOAST?

I think I will go to sleep

Advertisements

Fundamental flaw

I have a plan for my days.

Normally this involves getting up to go and wake master. I have learned that 4am is not acceptable.

In Gib anything after 5am seems ok so I usually aim for 5.30am. Spain however seems to be a land of later risers so I add an hour on before I start the Pippalarm.

I run in and out of their bedroom. This is fun. Sometimes they play at dead lions and don’t move or talk but I know they are really awake.

Misery will call me and say ‘Hello Pippa’ so I ignore her. That is fun too. As only master and I go out first thing I consider her not to be worth bothering with.

But when I come back in – it is of course, Breakfast Time! – and she gets my full attention then. If Misery is still in the big bed in Spain I will stick my head around the door, glance briefly in her direction, haroo quietly, and stare meaningfully at the sack of my biscuits. For some strange reason they live on top of the wardrobe.

In Gibflat she is usually up by breakfast time so I go to lie by the cupboard where they live. Another strange out-of-reach place. Myself, I would put them next to my table-dens.

Then I have my second and third breakfasts, ie we share theirs.

Second breakfast with master – toast time!!





Next I like to bound out to my gate (Spain) or bound onto my sofa (Gib).

Gate time.


The morning is spent busily watching the street or guarding the flat with a few changes of position for variety.

We have a walk at lunchtime and then we come back for – Lunch! The afternoon is pretty much a repeat of the morning, and there is another walk before bedtime. There are probably one or more walks that I have missed but as they are not linked to food or bed, they are not so important.

Now, here is the point of my post. Where in my plan do I mention grooming? Quite right, I didn’t.

Grooming is for monkeys I think, and I am not a monkey. Gratuitous pix of monkeys grooming each other.

If I want to groom myself, I can contort myself into an interesting doga position and then have a good scratch, scattering lots of pretty fluffy Pippafur all over. What I do not want, is for Misery to pounce when she sees a tiny piece of tuggable fur just waiting to gracefully fall out. It does not need help. Similarly, I certainly do not want her to grab a comb and attack me in order to get shedloads of fur from me. That was a joke, by the way. Shedloads and shedding. Hmm, need to work on these jokes I think. But you all have to laugh because Ammy said so. So even though it’s not too funny I expect a little teeny smile – for Ammy, because she said she wanted us to smile and be happy.

Where was I? Oh yes, complaining about Misery, and her antics with a comb. Do I comb her messy fur? No, I don’t – and it seems to me she doesn’t comb it either very often. So there is no reason to comb mine. At all.

Thank you Misery, please take note. Forthwith grooming is a thing of the past. For me any way. Seems to be a thing of the past for you too, looking at your fur. Anyway this blog is about ME!

Now, I was going to end there – but I have something unbelievable to share!! Can you believe there are dogs? on Facebook? Really, Misery tells me it is true. They have signed on with names and surnames and proper birthdays and write just like people. I can’t believe it myself. What sort of dog would do that? Some of them (no dognames mentioned) even play silly games like F***V****.

Who could imagine dogs would be so clever as to type on keyboards, set up accounts, and come up with witty posts on FB and chat with other doggies, and, oh! it’s rather like writing a blog isn’t it?? Anyway, all you naughty little doggies who are on FB (not me! oh no! not innocent little Pippita!!) you should abandon your accounts right now, ‘fess up, quit your doggie farms, and as punishment – no more toast/pizza for at least a week, no more chasing catz, and go and lie in the corner for being so utterly naughty and putting the state of the universe in peril. Well, I think that was what Misery said.

And even more interesting – and slightly in advance, but I just can’t wait. Happy Valentine’s Day to all my beautiful gorgeous girlfriends, those of you who are still interested in me – and to those of you who aren’t as well. Pippa xx PippaNOTaFacebookdog (much).