Grrr!

Woof!

And so: this is only my second posting in 9 months. But, as they constantly remind us around here, patience is a virtue.

Indeed, time stands mostly still here on B Wing. So little has happened of incident that, were it not for recent events, I'd neither know nor care what day, week or month it was.

Reader, we have been gripped my a malaise of sorts here in the rescue centre; a stubborn cloud of ennui that threatens to engulf us all. Whilst many of the larger dogs appear to have resigned themselves to it, many more of us have become increasingly snappy and irritable. Last week, the irksome spaniel had to be destroyed after attacking poor Joyce in the exercise yard. (He'd always been spooked by her puffer-jacket - seems it finally got to him.) And inevitably, I too succumbed to this destructive form of boredom when Bouncer and I foolishly decided to gore a hedgehog we'd found. Oh, the wretched thing was filthy, and having spined my mouth, it seemed I'd contracted a rather nasty snout infection.

And so, it was from the cold harsh floor of the vet's waiting-room that I spied this abortion of the human imagination:



From the television it seemed that Christmas was all of a sudden upon me. After months of ignorance and indifference, it was Christmas: a time of hope and happiness. A time when I can imagine being rescued by a loving family and then... What? Spending the rest of winter sitting in a crowded living room, eating cheap food and watching cartoons? Pah! But that's an aspiration for neither man nor beast!

No, nothing chills me more than the notion of being liberated by a member of the idle proletariat, and certainly not at Christmas.

Oh, and as for popcorn... I'd sooner have hedgehog... and worms.

Grrr.