A night out…

This evening you find me laying upside-down, legs in the air, in my signature hound pose, very much like a furry spatchcock chicken…only less decent, and furrier. I am recovering dear friend, from a night out! Yes, I know!

The oddballs went to the ‘Circus of Horrors’ last week and left me at home, the shameful audacity, especially when one considers my spangly performance based background! Apparently there were all manner of oddities and I rather wish I had been there…although there was mention of brief nudity. I sincerely hope it wasn’t either of my human slaves, I would put it past either of them to be honest, especially if the wind is blowing in the right direction and the wine is copious. Anyway, as a direct result of this outrageous abandonment I squeezed out a protest wee on the kitchen floor, making sure it travelled to as many nooks and crannies as possible. I suspect it was partially because of this floor watering – and my obvious charm that it was decided that I would be accompanying them to a dinner party at the weekend! Oh but what shall I wear! I decided that as it was my first meeting with this group of people then I should really make a bit of an effort. I spent a good hour rooting through the wardrobe looking for just the right outfit. After much deliberating by me and shrieking by the small human, who I had blackmailed into holding the mirror, I decided on a neat smart black number, long black satin gloves and a tiara. I was going for a full on Audrey Hepburn look. I can only tell you what a difficulty it is trying to keep a tiara into correct position on a pointy head. I had to firmly lodge the ends into each ear to sufficiently glue it into place (cue short human retching). I won’t even tell you where I had to put the cigarette holder.

Pleased with my overall appearance I sat back and waited for the numpties to stop flapping about. Their pre going out activity seems to entail them scampering about the house in various states of undress whilst the ironing board is hoisted out and the missing items of clothing are flattened to be wrinkled as soon as they put them on. I must say I was rather taken with the sock suspenders and the silken smoking jacket that the tall one sported. The short one decided to go looking like the love child of John Cooper Clarke and Miss Marple. I really must have a word with her about her hair.

After much faffing about we were ready so we all piled into the car. I asked a little about our hostess for the evening so I would be able to engage in some witty chat. Well I could barely believe my luck! She is apparently a tiny pocket rocket of fun, fabulous cook and all round jolly nice person. Most exciting was when I found out she used to compete as a bodybuilder!! Fabulous!!

We got there and I was obviously the star of the show. Such was the excitement of this unbridled adulation and unending ear tickles – well – I fell asleep for the entire duration of the evening. Curses.

By all accounts a splendid time was had by all, the guests were all rather lovely, as was the food, drink and conversation. Mind you, I bet the short loon dragged the conversation down to gutter level within 4 seconds of being there. She always does and it is rather embarrassing, especially as she is now at a ‘certain age’.

I do believe however that I have proven myself to be the ideal dinner party guest. The only sour point of the evening was when I ‘over relaxed’ during a chest scratch and shortly afterwards I overheard the tall human asking someone called Siri on his phone device ‘why does my dog keep farting’.

There are no words. Well, pffft might fit the bill. Smirk.


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