It’s been a busy week for Daisy.
Somehow she managed to meet Father Christmas and during the encounter he must have said or done something that disappointed her. In all fairness to her she’s possibly quite hormonal (she’s the right age for developing womens’ problems). I thought I heard her muttering about kibble for brains, dirty old men (there’s been a lot in the news about paedophiles this week) and arthritic joints. Next thing I knew she’d scattered his white matter (it wasn’t kibble) all over the carpet. She was partially correct however about his left knee, he’d certainly had the cartilage replaced and her removal of this plastic prosthesis did stop the knee squeaking. Regrettably FC did not survive Daisy’s first surgical endeavours, but as it says on the consent form, no surgery comes without risks.
She was so
guilt ridden depressed following FC’s demise that I felt a proper outing was in order. So the following day we took the train to Henley-on-Thames. Given this would be her first train trip and her recent psychopathic tendencies hormonal surges I did a risk assessment and judged that, since it isn’t Regatta Week the chance of meeting irritating HoorayHenries would be low to minimal and her behaviour should be trustworthy. (As a precaution however I popped a taser into my pocket – no, no, for the annoying Aitchaitches not for Daisy; heavens forfend! ) As it turned out there wasn’t a rage-inducing Aitchaitch in sight and her behaviour was impeccable throughout. She thoroughly enjoyed the view from the train window and walking the Thames path watching the birds on the river fascinated her (equally the duckdoo on the grass). She also enjoyed, and was immaculately behaved during, our visit to a local hostelry where a besotted barmaid plied her with treats whilst I ate lunch and supped a glass of the red stuff.
The trip cheered her as intended, tho’ she does maintain a morbid interest in FC’s remains which have not yet been interred ….
😀 😀 😀