A “Happy New Year” to you all. Around here they can he heard to say “Bonne Annee” which I think means the same thing except that after Brexit, we will not be allowed to use it, even in fun, without being written off as unreformed Remainers by the Faragistas.
Talking about fun, I find myself today back with Grey and Blue Rinse. It is just for the day while the Agalouts have some business outside of Les Gets which does not, apparently, require my input. Can you believe that dear readers? Grey and Blue have their son here. He seems very nice except that he wears a “Mad Max” hat and keeps confusing me with some dead hound called “Harry” once owned by his brother. But he means well, and is a great thrower of the tennis ball. (You may remember that last year, Grey wrecked his shoulder and as a result, his ball throwing was pathetic even with the aid of the ball sling.)
The owners brought me round soon after 9:30am when it was that cold that the brass monkeys were still complaining. There had been a bit of snow last night (well, actually about a dogbowlfull spread around the whole of Les Gets), but the humans were so excited, they were shrieking and talking in high pitched voices. I find that hard to cope with first thing, so to shut them up, I promptly puked up all over the carpet as soon as I got in. That wiped the smile off their faces and the ear piercing screeches came to an abrupt end. Blue Rinse took me for a quick walk around the chalet, why I don’t know. What I wanted was a treat for helping them practice their carpet shampooing skills. No such luck, just a hint to “drink some bloody water”.
After that, things got a bit quieter as I gained control, and after lunch I was able to sleep on Grey’s lap while he was comatose having had his bowl of soup and a slice of toast. Crickey, they live well these people. After that, Blue Rinse and Max Hat took me for a walk, and when they were knackered, we came back and I tested the new location of my mat which is right in front of the fire. Blue Rinse is now cooking food for the Agalouts for when they get back, and you never know, she might remember to put out those delicious hard biscuits at 5pm which is all I am allowed in this place.
More anon, and if this weather keeps up, I will have time to update you on the topics of the day including my dog’s eye view of the turnip that has been elected President of US (actually, “Them” not “Us”), and we can take a considered view of the Brexit range of Turkeys that have voted for Christmas to be a year-round festival of poultry stuffing.