This contraption, no clue what it is, serves two purposes: chewing, as demonstrated above, and providing welcome relief from Outpost heat: nobody told me it was going to be this hot. Honestly; they ought to inform one better before they cart you out into middle of nowhere.
It is very, very difficult to get the message across in this place. What must a girl do? Empty her bowl with vigour and then push it around the floor politely? Drag it around the house in manner of Oliver begging for ‘more please, more please’? Adopt a pitiful I-am-still-starving-expression which is usually met with a ‘Really, how can you be Pili!’ (A hypothetical question you note; my ommission of the punctuation is not an error; she really does not believe I can still be hungry).
This contraption, no clue what this is either , is my favourite thing in the entire house. I can hear it opening from the other end of the garden. I have discovered that if I get there before it closes, delcious treats drop from it. I can’t open it myself yet but I plan to learn how.
If I can’t be arsed to walk to the front of the house to sit/chew as at the top of the page, I merely tip Scally’s water bowl over. Uselessly it’s too small to sit in but same cooling effect can be achieved by digging contents out and lying in them.
These two are the most unfriendly specimens in the whole world. Really. They are. Especially the one with grey hair. She is also very rude: she spit at me. Spits!
Below are a selection of my favourite toys:
My mistress, clearly, has given me fleas: she will insist on getting into my bed (a nice big double one with a mozzi net around it, fat load of good that is against her fleas for she brings them in with her) and sharing my sofa. The one I’m sitting on below.
I like watching rugby but I wish those big blokes would give me the ball occassionally.
When my mistress is sitting tapping, Scal and I share the spot under her desk. It’s best if you can get in first and sit at the back so that you miss her feet if they’re tapping too and you’re trying to sleep.
I understand, from mounting excitment and the fact beds are being made, that we are to expect visitors. I do hope I am not going to be obliged to share my sofa space with hoardes.
PS from RM: we are, expecting visitors, the girls arrive home for Christmas on Friday. I can’t wait.
Reluctant Memsahib 