follow your feet: Canines

This week, my flatmates got a puppy. As in, a canine. Another one. They thought a puppy would nicely complement their full time jobs, twelve partridge, seven budgies, three daughters, two properties, 300 000 bees and other dog. Of course, just after she arrived, they promptly left me and the slightly-more-mature-but-still-not-very-mature dog to puppy-sit. With full care and full responsibility. Therefore, we took it upon ourselves to wreck havoc, live life by our own rules and have no regrets. Especially the canines. Actually, entirely the canines.

The old and previously 'outside' dog has recently decided that she wanted to be an inside dog. However, she reached a new low when she threw up all over the flatmates’ Moroccan carpet. Luckily, there are, quite literally, six more of these carpets where this one came from. To my everlasting relief, she ate it all again too. To her credit, she did hide the evidence rather well. But what the flatmates don’t know about their Moroccan carpets won’t hurt them.

Ziggy also reached a record low, despite having only been here for a week. You know that nursery rhyme:

‘One, two; buckle my shoe,

Three, four; open the door,

Fix, six; pick up sticks…’ etc etc etc.

Well, Ziggy rewrote the first line:

‘Number twos; in your shoe…’ To be continued next week no doubt. We shall wait with baited breath to hear what Ziggy has to say about ‘three, four.’

As to which shoe it was, I’ll never tell.

But mostly, I just wanted to spam you with cute photos of her, because most of the time, she is just that – cute (psycho, but mainly cute).