Well I’m back. Mum picked me up this morning and I was dead excited and then I vomited all over the back seat. I blame the dodgy hygiene practices of some of the French bitches. I’m really particular about my hygiene and I’m always cleaning myself but some of the bitches I’ve been hanging out with these past few days, well, I won’t go there. Suffice it to say they aren’t very particular.
You humans get all fussed about vomit don’t you? I mean us dogs are really laid back about it. It’s like – “Oh well, breakfast all over again….” Sorry. Too much info, I know. Mum always stops me from ….you know…. But I don’t see the point – if she’d let me she wouldn’t have to go to all that trouble of cleaning it up would she? Ok, I’ll drop the subject.
Two things – number one – I made some new friends and I learned some of that French stuff and – number two – mum is even more sick of the UK than she was before.
I’ll start with mum’s news ‘cause it’s a bit boring so we can end on a good note with mine. Apparently, in the UK, this Mr Brown is cutting VAT to try and help the Credit Munch. I don’t know what VAT is but apparently it means that you can go out and buy a brand new ‘Top of the range’ BMW and it’ll cost about £1000 less than it would have done a week ago. I guess that’s good if you were thinking about buying a brand new ‘Top of the range’ BMW, but if you weren’t then I suppose it makes bugger all difference. Mum reckons that if she lived in the UK she’d be about £2.50 per week better off - in about two years time when the retailers and everyone else have sorted out all the admin to do with this VAT thing and passed on the cuts to the consumers, by which time she says it will have gone back up by 3% anyway. It sounds like a big puzzle to me. Mum said to Uncle Hugh “…why didn’t they simply cut fooking taxes? When they do things like cut VAT it’s obvious that those in charge have no idea how a fooking business is run….” She was a bit mad. Good, everything’s back to normal.
Now my news. Well, I met three bitches – Zoë & Filo - who were both French, and Holly who was English. Holly was new to this kennelling business. She’s what we call an infrequent boarder. I’m a frequent boarder. I’m often in the kennels. Holly was new to it all – you could tell before she even said - she had name-tags on everything. How passé! And her bed and her toys were all newly laundered. Well, I could have laughed my paws off. Bless her. She looked very lost when she arrived so I took her under my wing, so to speak, and gave her the benefit of my wisdom and experience.
Zoë and Filo were from the same house. They had the same owner. They were both terrier types, like me, and we all had a good laugh playing in the field. Even Holly soon relaxed into it. Apart from their dodgy hygiene practices, Zoë & Filo were great. At least that’s what I thought. At the time I thought they were very kind, they even taught me some French. Phuh! Kind! NOT. This morning when I got back and started speaking to Claude and demonstrating my new found French I soon discovered that I’d been taken for a mug. No wonder they laughed delightedly every time I repeated what they were teaching me. There’s me thinking that I’m saying – “Hello, my name is Henry” and “Goodbye, I hope you have a good day,” and “Do you want to play with my toy?” and “I’m English.” No, instead Claude says I’ve been saying “Hello, my name is Henry and I’m an a***hole”, and “Goodbye, I hope your mother rots in hell.” And “Sniff my a*** dickhead” and “I’m a moron.” I WAS MORTIFIED. There's a problem - what Zoë and Filo taught me, I went on to teach Holly. I keep wondering what reaction she’s gonna get from the French dogs around her when she repeats what I’ve taught her. Thank goodness she’s a Rottweiller. I guess they’ll simply pretend they didn’t hear her correctly. You don’t argue with a Rotty do you?
It’s good to be back. I’m looking forward to reading all those blogs that I’ve missed whilst I’ve been away. I’m hoping that the kennels will be online in February then I can keep posting whilst I’m away.
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