This is Miss Posy Fossil, she of the Chronicles of Pupperino, who is a little over 5 months old, and a cross between a loveable teddy bear and a waste disposal unit.
A few nights ago, at around midnight, she sicked up a pile of vomit the size of a loaf and with a smell that one struggles to describe.
Luckily she cleared it all up herself. She is helpful, like that.
At 4am Posy and her friend Lulu woke up and asked to be let out.
When they came back in we all kipped on the sofa. Posy lay down with her muzzle close to my ear.
Crunch crunch crunch.
As one never knows what she has in her mouth and whether it might precipitate an emergency trip to the vet, I woke up, plunged fist down throat and pulled out a piece of foil from a sweet wrapper. Washed hands. Kipped down. Posy lay down with her muzzle close to my ear.
Crunch crunch crunch.
Oh no – what is it this time? Plunged fist down throat and pulled out piece of fabric with button attached. Where on Earth…? Washed hands. Kipped down.
Crunch crunch crunch.
Not AGAIN?
Plunged fist down throat and pulled out a coat button in a small plastic bag. Washed hands.
That’s when I spotted it.
Posy’s friend Elvis the cat had knocked over and smashed an earthenware pot in which had accumulated all sorts of bits and pieces, and this was where Posy was getting her choice morsels.
Swept up mess. Washed hands. Kipped down.
This time Posy slept with her bottom in my face.
And farted.
It was a long night. Golden Retrievers. Don’t you just love ’em?
