It only seems a short while since I wrote in the spring as the humans trudged back to Brexit to lick their wounds after the ups and downs of last season. Just six dog years ago in fact. So much has happened in the meantime that I thought I would have a review to set the scene for 2019 – the year of Brexit (or not?) and the season to come. I know that things are happening because the humans are storing up mince pies and new ski clothes to take out to France in the next few weeks, and all of a sudden, the daily inaccuracies from Snowforecast.com have taken their attention away from the daily wibble from May, Trump and the Mogg feline.
Well, last season was a challenge all round for the humans. They all had some health issues and there seemed to be so many visits to distant places where people in white coats seemed to be in charge. I was not sure what was going on, but over the first few months, I had dozens of different walkers to take me out and help me to lose Bernie’s Balls as we now know them. Towards the end of the season, as the weather improved, I decided to branch out on my own and several times I strolled down to the village to chat to the locals and checkout the discarded pizza slices to be found around the place. It worked quite well until a combination of the local fuzz and a well-meaning French lady half way down the road led to a series of reports back to Matron who sentenced me to see out the season on a permanent lead. The owners and the Grey One then drove together back to Brexit, and that started a summer of unending fuss and bother preparing for the wedding of one of the owner’s kids and a significant birthday for Matron a few weeks ago.
Both events brought together many of the same old crew that comes over to Les Gets, but this time they had been to their local Oxfam shop to upgrade their wardrobes. So dressed in civvies it was not easy to identify them all. Naturally, I still have the pink collar I got a while ago and there was nothing new for me as the humans cavorted in their finery. On a plus point, the parents of the new Mrs Owners-Younger-Son have some dogs of their own and they came to join in the fun. As you can see we managed to photobomb pretty well all the snaps which Blue Rinse was taking.
This was followed by more messing around as Matron reached 490th birthday had she been a dog. Unbeknown to her, the kiddywinkies arranged a surprise party at HQ. She was lured out for the day while they laid on food and drink – none for me of course – and then the guests arrived. The only real surprise was that they had not found any new faces to invite and the same old crew pitched up to “sing” happy birthday to a shocked matron. Still they all enjoyed it and there was quite a lot of food kicking around the dishwasher and in odd corners of the house, so all was not lost.
Since then, the aged ones have been having some more repairs getting them ready for December in Les Gets when will all meet up again. Plus ca change.
It has, of course, been a momentous year politically, and I will review this in more detail in later blogs. But the news gradually worsened as the year unfolded that the Good Doctor finally cancelled his subscription to the Guardian. He told them he was doing this because the news was so bad he was getting very upset. Well, all I can say is that it worked, because since he took this brave step, AFC Wimbledon have got through two rounds of the FA Cup, and Mrs Maybe has managed to unite the whole country against her deal. And Grumpy Trumpy manged to get the lowest approval rating ever for a serving president. Lets hope the Doctor does not renew his subscription and that things continue to get better. Whatever happens, I will be keeping you informed from the canine point of view.
You must be logged in to post a comment.