So you know how last week I was telling you about how great my dog is, let's just say my expectations of her have severely gone down the pan. Let me tell you the story and set the scene ...
Imagine my joy of a bank holiday weekend all to myself, at least Saturday anyway. With Mr. Warehouse working overtime on Saturday, I thought that I would spend my morning catching up on some telly and relaxing on the sofa with my partners pooch. The morning soon turned into the afternoon as Mr. Warehouse turned out to be working longer than usual. Finishing just before the FA Cup final started (not my decision to watch it of course) I collected my Bae and headed to get some food from the local KFC. After ordering food with headed home and to the comfort of our cool front room and our little poochie-poo's to watch the FA Cup Final and following our a cosy night in we headed to bed as we had an early start the next morning.
Sunday in true British fashion we headed out to a car boot sale in a neighbouring Village and dog in tow we headed out to look for some bargains. Returning home in the early afternoon I started to bake a cake for Miss Tweedle-Dumb's Birthday meal that evening. All of a sudden and realising what time it was, I dashed out to run some errands and get the car valeted before returning home to get ready and throw on something half decent, grab the cake, and Mr. Warehouse, feed the dog and leave for the forty-minute car journey back home to Houghton Regis / Dunstable, and all before Six-O'Clock.
Regardless of our lateness, Mr. Warehouse and I got to the restaurant on time and even had time en route to pick up a few stragglers. Although arriving on site and parking the car was tricky for Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Mr. Warehouse and I had not had enough time to drop off the cake to the restaurant prior to collecting Miss Tweedle-Dee and her Boyfriend so I gave the job of hot-footing it into the restaurant with said cake, styled on some sort of Instagram unicorn cake that totally did not turn out as I expected, basically looking like a melted down version of its well prepared social media cousins. Nevertheless we all had an amazing dinner and finished it all off in the garden of my childhood bestie.
Returning home however I was shattered as was Mr. Warehouse. We had been very productive and got a lot of things done that we had been meaning to get round to for a while, but I suppose that is what Bank Holidays are for right? Drifting off into dreamland I wondered what tomorrow would bring and what both myself and Mr Warehouse would be doing on our last day of freedom before heading back to work. We had ideas and pipe dreams about going to London or even to an attraction nearby but after not booking anything and a late night Sunday we decided we would take the day as it comes and not making any expensive or big plans.
Waking up this morning though I was disappointed when I sat down on the sofa with my morning coffee only to realise what carnage had happened either last night or in the early hours of this morning, As our dog walked around the side of the sofa and sat on the floor I wondered what was poking out from under her blonde fluffy bottom, She was trying to hide it I could tell but there is no getting past what I was seeing in front of me and after calling my boyfriend into the room, we both started to snigger.
As I asked my dog to get up she agreed but looked at me with regret and guilt. Under her bottom was a torn open bag from the local KFC we had a few nights ago. Bad I know but I had put my Hot Wings in a bag on the side, ready to eat them later on. unfortunately it looks like someone had beaten me to it and as Pooch hid her sorry-ass face from me I tried to install some discipline and tell her that she was naughty and a "Bad Bad Girl". Immediately she retreats to her bed, knowing what she has done wrong, all with a silly grin on her face as if to say "You know one day we are all gonna laugh about this"
Throughout today her hunger has obviously not been appeased for she has eaten breakfast, dinner, some left over yogurt, gravy and her usual doggy dentastix. I would have thought you were full up, but no, how stupid of me to thing that my Labrador is full. I caught several looks today as if to apologise for eating my beloved Hot Wings, but I also saw a few that in my head taunted me with phrases like "I enjoyed your Hot Wings" and "You should feed me steak like the poodle two doors down" all accompanied by the look stating that within the next few days I will be recovering chicken bones from a hot mess on the floor of the grass patch she has taken for herself on our walks.
Despite all of this however she is still my Step-Pup and no matter how much you annoy me or shit so much it over fills the bag or even how much you enjoyed eating my fucking Hot Wings, I love you.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
No comments:
Post a Comment