Spindle has fear buried deep within her trembling heart this evening. It has been revealed to me today by the gruesome twosome that I am going to appear on their christmas cards. Apparently this is a great privilege. I…I just can’t really find the words. I can only assume that this means that I am going to be subjected to the ritual humiliation of having to stand patiently whilst being bedecked with baubles and all manner of fur lined spangly outfits. They have assured me that it is a compliment and only a tremendously attractive hound would be asked to perform such an honour.
I personally think it is more of a response ( Some may even call it a punishment) to my slight over reaction to my first encounter with the short humans winter muff last week. I spied it lurking under the bed and my battle ears were engaged immediately. In my defence it very much resembled an old adversary of mine from the Bolshoi, and thus I launched myself at it in an immensely menacing fashion. The outcome of this primal and devastating assault was laid to rest in furry clumps throughout the house. Job done.
Anyway the pair of loons have been looking at the interweb world all evening amid snorts, hoots and general unauthorised merriment. Knowing I was beaten I decided the only plan of action would be to whole heartedly join in. So there I sat, crossed paws on my lounging chair, piping up with what I believed to be most excellent suggestions. I began to warm to the idea.
I will present to you my thoughts for your perusal. I have always really fancied myself as a heroic historical figure. Joan of Arc maybe…Boudicca…perhaps not, it didn’t end terribly well for them really. I turned my spindly attention to the silver screen. Ah! Yes..this was more like it. Margaret Rutherford?….no. Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra…that is more like it.
I also feel that in a certain light I bear more than a striking resemblance to Nana Mouskouri…I could even fit castors to my paws to enable myself to glide around like she did quite magnificently. In a certain light I also feel I have a touch of the Ethel Mermans about me. Open mouthed, the humans stared at me, the words “ More like Frank Spencer in a frock’ and ‘delusions of grandeur, were bandied about like cruel unswerving spears to my soul. I reminded them at this point my cooperation was key which shut them up.
The search continues…
2 thoughts on “Spindle strikes a begrudging pose”
Bad luck! I hope I don’t have to suffer such indignity…I suspect not because BC probably couldn’t be arsed.
Meanwhile I have a bone (figurative) to pick with her and, yes, you dear Spindly. Last Wednesday BC was missing all day and when she came back she smelt of YOU. I sniffed her trousers all evening until she got fed up and put her Jim jams on. What is this all about!!
Heartbroken Gipsy Boy
My dear dear boy! Do not let your heart darken with unnecessary unease and angst. You must realise there is folly in your unpicked bone. I must admit, yes, I did see your – and I must say this – rather delightful mistress. But! Dearest G.B. I myself was embarking on a spot of ankle snuffling to catch the merest whiffette of you! Do you see! Do you feel your heart has been lifted? Do not leave me in this wretched state of agitation! Do you forgive me?