Rooo we’re having a typical British summer. Rain every other day, cloudy and generally miserable and so cold so no one wants to go swimming in the mud puddles with me. In short, its rubbish.
The shop where both my human and my buddy Archie work had arranged a midsummer walk on Sunday. We were hoping for sunshine so we could bring along a lovely picnic for the end of the walk. Actually, I think Archie was the most excited about the picnic as he loves eating food off the ground. He likes putting his nose to good use like that. Every dog should have his own interests as far as I’m concerned, but I’m more into chasing sticks anyway so I usually leave him to his sniffing.
Anyway. The humans geared up in wellies and rain coats and we set off on the walk. I was the biggest dog, followed by a cool scruffy dog from Thailand called Twix, his little Westie buddy and a cute girl called Ruby. Then there were the usual suspects Archie and Hardy and their humans. I always keep an extra watchful eye on Hardy, as he is a ball-o-holic just like me and he’s been known to steal a ball or two.
I herded the humans across the whole of Wimbledon Common, and helped them keep an eye on the little doggies. Twix decided he wanted to take up golfing and bounced off to the golf course, closely followed by his two humans calling his name. Archie was really brave and waded through a deep water puddle when he suddenly sunk really deep down and fell over dipping his little face into the mud. Then I had to show off and splashed a big mud clot in the Westie’s face so he looked a little like a little Panda bear.
When we reached the other end of the common, and the picnic plans had been replaced with plans of going to the pub for Sunday roast. We found a nice pub in Wimbledon Village that allowed dogs, and I settled in with my pig’s ear under the table. Then something really horrible happened. The pack split up! One of my humans went inside to order food and drinks and I couldn’t stop myself from howling. As I kicked my head back for another howl, I noticed all the little dogs had much better seats than me. They were sitting on their humans’ laps when I had to make do with the floor!
I couldn’t bear the injustice and immediately spotted a spare seat, made myself comfortable, and waited for the Sunday roast to arrive. Unfortunately my human came back before the roast arrived and took back her seat.
How about all you doggies out there – are you allowed to sit at the table? *Waggy tail*
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