January began with me 'first-pawing' all the walkers out for a stroll on the Gleniffer Braes. I'd crawl up to them, ensuring they knew I was no threat, and if they paid me any attention, I'd surprise them by jumping up, planting my paws on their trousers or jacket (depending on their height) and wish them a Happy New Year. It was great fun as most reciprocated with a cuddle or a tickle or a compliment. A few grumpy souls were less enamoured by my muddy autograph but they must have been hungover and blind to my gorgeousness.
The whole New Year thing confused me initially because I thought it meant I was a year older. I wanted to know why no one had bought me a birthday cake. When I got back to Pawz&Co, Winnie explained it was the planet's birthday not mine. That got me salivating imagining the size of cake a planet would get and what my share of it would be. When none arrived, I had to go steal someone else's lunch to make up for my disappointment. One of the staff caught me in the act and reported my misdemeanour to my Woman at collection time. Consequently, they've stopped calling me Milliemoo and now refer to me as Chevious, as in Miss Chevious.
Despite being in trouble for assisting a slow eater, The Woman rewarded me with the Freedom of the Car Boot. It's an honourary title, akin to the ones the Queen dishes out at New Year. I no longer have to travel in a cage, though there are bars on the back seats so I don't think she trusts me entirely.
Speaking of which, I discovered I can leap over the baby gate at the foot of the stairs. I got so excited I had to have a widdle upstairs, relieving myself on the hairdryer in the bedroom. It wasn't an intentional act of vandalism. I would have used the shower if the ensuite door had been open.
I did have another wee-related accident when I wet their super king-size bed up at the cabin. Again, it was down to excitement on my part. I'm rarely allowed in their bedroom and the woman had left the door open. When the man arrived from work, I nipped in to empty my bladder so I didn't wet the carpet when I greeted him. The duvet was lovely with a highly absorbent tog. Unfortunately, when he went into the bedroom to get changed out of his work clothes, he failed to spot my newly-created puddle and tossed his fresh clothes on top, only to notice the smell and wetness after he'd dressed. Everything had to be washed, except the duvet. It was too large for the family washing machine and had to go to the dry cleaner.
It wasn't only me that got caught short this month though. There was one occasion when The Man took me for a long walk in the woods at Braeval. I thought it was for my benefit but really he was seeking out the perfect tree. He was so relieved to find it he peed on it. So it's not just me that has to wee when they're excited! It must run in the family.
Here are my pictorial highlights:
