Yesterday afternoon was spent with my great friend Mrs P and her beautiful Rottweiler, Neville. Our dogs are good friends and when my two realise where we are heading, there is a mass free for all on the back seat as they vie for the first sighting of their big friend.
My two tend to look like a pair of those novelty slippers which do the rounds at Christmas when compared to the regal Neville. You know the ones I mean. The ones which last till about New Year, as by then you've fallen down the stairs twice and an ear/antler/nose/claw/eyeball has been chewed off by the dog. As far as I am concerned, they are right up there with lavender scented padded hangers as far as Christmas presents go.
Anyway, we had a great walk, even though it was drizzling. Both Mrs P and I agreed that it was that kind of rain where you felt like you weren't getting wet. Until you stopped of course, at which point you felt like you'd been in a monsoon. But as I said to her, we're not biscuits, so rain shouldn't worry us really. Mind you, after an hour's schlep through a very damp and muddy wood (my first for almost three weeks) I did look a bit like a custard cream...one which has been held in the tea too long and which then just gives up, slowly sinking to the bottom of the cup.
Unfortunately, I couldn't just crash on the sofa when I got home, as the two dogs resembled a couple of Victorian chimney sweeps and were in dire need of a bath. My two hate water, and they go and hide as soon as I get their bath towels out. Percy, who is quite sensible as far as furballs go, chooses to hide behind the sofa. He's not that clever though as he always picks the same one to hide behind, so he always gets done first. While he's in the bath, Reg stands next to the bath taking the Mickey out of him while I froth up the shampoo.
'Haha! You look like a pouffy poodle with all that shampoo. Shall I call you Fifi from now on?'
Percy looks at Reg with such disdain while I am bathing him. As I finally rinse him off, Reg is still there at the side of the bath, still ribbing Percy.
'Ha! Look at you now! You look like Ratty Rat, the rattiest rat in Ratland!'
As I get Percy out and start towelling him off, Reg starts reversing towards the bathroom door, as he knows he's next. Our eyes meet across the tiles, and just as I let Percy go, Reg pegs it, running down the stairs two at a time doing a passable impression of a short legged Roadrunner.
The stand off eventually ends in the garden, where after ten minutes of chasing him around the deckchairs, I finally corner him against the the passionflower and grab him. Carrying him screaming up to the bath, I plonk him in and give him the once over with the sponge and bubbles.
Percy likes to watch from the doorway, smugly chewing on the chew he's been rewarded with. I know exactly what he's thinking...
'Well, you're not laughing now, my friend'...