plasticwrap

Dogtown

Mills is on heat, so I am dog-sitting to keep her from the amorous attentions of Charlie Brown, stud dog. Never to mind that Charlie looks like a big shaggy brown teddy bear rather than a begetter of generations. Apparently he is more than up for the task.

So Mills is lying in a contented white and golden pile at my feet while I type this. She’s a lovely dog and when a little older she will have great pups. I hope they inherit her personality, she’s so friendly that she woke me up at 5.15am by licking my face, nose, ears, neck, hands and, when no flesh was visible, the sheets. I shall suggest to Deb that she market the pups as emergency facecloths for the disaster-prone-but-hygienic.

I don’t really have much else to write about at the moment, I have struck a real dry patch when it comes to writing. I think I’ll put it down to the flu, which seems to be back with sore-throated, snotty vengeance. My head feels like it’s stuffed with hot cotton wool so frankly, it’s a miracle the old CNS continues to function!

(okay, okay, exaggeration. But me would feel much better if tucked up in bed with hot lemon drink, endless DVDs and a morphine drip.)