Mr Scruff

That Spanish dog that came to live with me and the blonde last summer, you know, the Malone geezer, well he’s in a bit of trouble. He’s been naughty with all of the Blonde’s ‘decorative’ cushions (am howling with laughter right now). Listen to this; he thinks the cushions are his girlfriends and the Blonde is well cross with him and has had to have em all dry cleaned. Apparently they was silk and stuff. The Spanish are a funny lot, bet he’s missing his ‘girlfriends’; they’re all locked up in a cupboard now! Poor lad. HOWL!

The Blonde marched me to the vet on Saturday morning for a check up. I love the vet; I get a ton of expensive liver treats if I’m a good mutt. Errr not this time apparently as when I got weighed in they found out I’ve put on a whopping 4 kilos since last summer. Oooops. Blonde was devastated, especially on account of her just losing 4 kilos at some Thai torture camp. Fat swap? I’ve got a weigh-in chart stuck up on the fridge, I’m not allowed any treats and I’m on boring light food. Vet told her it was her fault and she got upset saying she didn’t realise and all that. Meanwhile I’m sat there looking up at them all innocent and cute with a ‘don’t blame me’ look on my face.

I’ve got something to admit though; it sort of is my fault but please don’t tell anyone. A little trick I remember from when I was abandoned on the streets before the Blonde found me was that when the bin men come in the morning, the spillage isn’t rubbish at all; it’s snack time! I had a whole slice of pizza for breakfast this morning and the Blonde, who was looking into the neighbours window checking out her hair in the reflection didn’t even notice. She’s gonna get into trouble with the vet when my chart doesn’t go down but a man has to eat!

Woof x