A Dog’s day at Clarendon

Usually my owner’s wife, Helen, writes this blog but today she’s doing something strange with gin, so I’m taking over. When I say my owner’s wife, that’s because I know Neil is my pack leader, so I don’t actually have to do anything that Helen says, because she isn’t actually my boss. She’s the one who lets me on the bed though, so that’s why I’m keeping in her good books by helping today.
I’ve had a successful week. I tried not to overdo it, and managed to spend 80% of the day sleeping. We had the usual attempted daily break-ins from those men who always wear shorts and drive red vans, but I saw them off. The guests this week responded well to the facial expressions I’ve been practising, (I find the one that conveys hunger, with adoration and sadness works best) and I won 2 sausages and one piece of bacon fat. Not bad. We get other dogs staying, and I’m pretty good at showing them how it’s done.

Helen took me to a doctor for dogs and he said I was getting fat. I don’t agree. This is how cuddly looks. I’m not allowed to do my faces to the guests really, but it’s too easy. If you wanted skinny, you should have adopted a whippet.

That will do for today, time to keep watch, I need to stay vigilant.