Friday March 4, 2011
It's not been a good week.
Dad's beloved Arsenal blowing the Worthless Cup final wasn't the best of starts.
But at least it meant Mum removed my red and white Gooners' collar pretty smartish. It was back in the cupboard long before he got home muttering something about care in the community defending. That's 40 doggy years without a trophy and counting. Next up, Barcelona - oh dear.
Then when we went to the vet's for my monthly Cartrophen jab and Stupid Brother was weighed, it was not so much a case of drat but double and triple drat.
SB has actually LOST weight, I can’t believe it. TWO whole kilos in four weeks, according to the scales at Dr John’s.
SB was showing off saying it’s down to a change in his diet from Arden Grange back to Burns but I just think he’s been exercising more - he’s certainly not eating any less.
And the nice veterinary nurse even commented that he didn’t look fat – she’s seen far tubbier golden retrievers – but I think expecting a baby must be affecting her vision.
SB even had the cheek to nick a toy from the surgery – he’s becoming a real delinquent in his post-teenage years – but the trouble is, it’s rather a nice toy and I want it.
In fact, I’ve never wanted a square blue ball so much in my life. I put my paw down last night and insisted that he hand it over but he actually GROWLED at me for the first time EVER. I was a little taken aback, to be honest.
Boy, he wants a square blue ball bad too. I may have to back down on this one. But then again, maybe not...
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