Sunshine, and I'm back

Louise has been very slack on writing my blog for me, I think she went to sleep for the winter.  I don't blame her I like to sleep too.  Today I have slept everywhere; my bed, their bed, the floor, the sofa, Dave's lap.  

It's a sunny day in Disley today, which is why I know it's spring or summer - I don't know what date they all start, I find calenders confusing.  I have been outside.  Ollie, next door's mean cat is staring down at me again, and Louise is telling me I'm not allowed to bark at him.  Joke's on him though.  He doesn't realise he's sitting on a wheelie bin, which is somewhere they put food that's too bad to eat, and then it gets pulled away.  It doesn't smell nice, so Ollie will stink too, whereas I'm the nicest smelling dogs in Disley.  I'm going to tell him.

Ollie smells

We're going out for Sunday Lunch soon, which is just lunch on a Sunday.  This is good news, as I usually get food too, and everyone comes to the pub to see me.  I hope I see Lois and Samuel, they share their crispies with me (which is what little people call crisps.)

Pringles are good - Postmen are bad

Louise is very happy with me today because the vet says I am healthy.  Well, I already knew that, but Louise has been very worried about this little bump on my side.  The vet says it is a fatty lump, which I thought was a bit rude but he meant the bump was a fatty lump not that I am a fatty lump.  I was worried that if Dave thought I was a fatty lump that he wouldn’t share his crisps any more, which would be a shame as I am particularly partial to Pringles.  Pringles are special crisps that are all the same shape, so they must be made with funny shaped potatoes.

Looking for the Postman - we don't want your junk!

While Louise has been worried about me, I am more concerned about our postman, who is posting more than ever through the hole in the door.  I said that we should plug the hole up but Louise said no in case we miss an important Bill, although I don’t know anyone called Bill let alone an important one.  Louise calls it junk mail, and when I looked up ‘junk’ it said ‘useless material.’  Why our postman would choose to post us something useless I do not know, so I am responding by shouting at him every time he posts anything.  Hopefully soon he will get the message that we don’t want his junk and give it to the woman next door who has a snooty cat called Ollie.  I don’t like Ollie because he can sit on fences and window ledges when I can’t.  I don’t get on with most of the cats in Disley; they are like bigger meaner squirrels.

Me and Ollie - the snootiest cat in Disley