The Queen died this month. I never met her but she liked Corgis so she must have been alright. RIP your majesty. (Is the new King looking for a more photogenic replacement? I can shave my beard if it's a dealbreaker. I rather fancy the title, Princess Millie).
Onto more mundane matters...
I was allowed to go into the local shop this month. The nice man behind the counter gave me a snippet of chopped ham and pork. I always pull in that direction now when on a walk. You never know. They might relent and take me for more.
In unrelated news, I was sick again. Fortunately, we were at the park so it wasn't too far to rush home to be sick in private in the living room. I didn't want the paps to picture me vomiting in public. They'd label me a party girl and cause me to lose my place at the respectable Pawz&Co.
It's great being back to see my old pals again. The weather has been mixed but it's fun whether inside or out.
They thought they could outrun me because they had eight legs against my four but failed to acknowledge my superior speed. I even gave them a head start which, to be fair wasn't very long on account of their heads being so small.
I'm not allowed upstairs again because I pee'd the bed. Granted, it was their bed but that's not the point. If anything, they should let me upstairs more often so I don't get so excited. It's frustrating because they keep the single socks up there and I want a date with all of them.
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| This isn't the bed in question - there are no photos on that bed because I'm not allowed upstairs. |
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| Quick, look like a zombie |
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| Thou shalt not pass. |
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| Revenge |
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| I can fit in your bed |
Finally, I'm not proud of this. I ran away. For nearly fifteen minutes. It wasn't even in the friendly sense of finding the garden gate open and enjoying the temporary freedom of the local gardens. It was from blind terror. The man and me were up the Braes heading back into the second field having crossed the wooden bridge. A tan-coloured crossbreed ran towards me and I did my usual tail-between-the-legs thing and bolted, sussing out his speed, calculating if I could outrun him. I could so I ran back to the man only to find a second dog - a german shepherd - and it was coming for me too. This time I didn't even think of using a stopwatch. I kept going. The Man's voice echoed across the Braes calling my name for ten minutes (I don't know why the delay - I was gone five minutes before he started and I know he had no idea where I was). I only returned after spotting that the monster was leashed to its owner at the hill summit. I was still shaking when I promised the Man I'd never do it again but it doesn't count if you cross your legs and hope not to die. Now for the best of the rest of my September pics: (I'm going for the shaggy-dog look in case they can't afford the heating):  |
| Aren't we supposed to be going that way to Aberfoyle? No, we're going to Buchlyvie. On foot? Yes. Your funeral. |
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| Aberfoyle, eventually. |
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| Resting after a pleasant run on the Braes - not the night detailed above |
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| A lovely day in the garden |
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| Pals |
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| Awaiting tickles |
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