After yesterday's ranting blog, I was determined that today I would write about something warm and fluffy.
I will not get sidetracked by the fact that Grace Dent tricked me into reading some smug woman in a badly fitting jacket's article about how she chooses her darling Poopy (honestly I really read the child's name as Poopy - might be time to visit the optician again!) and India's friends. She did this by putting the link on Twitter with the words, "I have so much to say!" The link was just a series of letters and numbers, with absolutely no mention of The Daily Mail.
So, back to warm and fluffy. What do I really know about warm and fluffy? I'm much more inclined to see the sombre, wicked and macabre. The grump is still in full flow and I WILL tame her. Warm and fluffy.....right....um......OK....I've got it.
I say, I say, I say! My dog has no nose. How does he smell? Terrible.
Really, he does smell very bad. When we were children we liked it if the dog farted. We liked it even more if the dog hadn't farted and one of us had because the dog could always be blamed but today it was definitely the dog. No human could possibly make that kid of smell. Not only does my warm fluffy thing have very bad wind he also just smells. He smells of.....well he smells of dog. A dog that has got wet and dry too many times. A dog that has sometimes pee-d on his own leg. A dog who doesn't own a toothbrush.
The warm, fluffy smelly thing has spent most of the evening snuggled up against my leg, twitching his ears, giving me dirty looks and finally issuing a small growl before going to sit next to the Long Suffering Husband. Knitting is the best way to ensure that you don't let sleeping dogs lie.
LSH has just asked, "Is that smell the dog?"
As the writers of Porridge used to say, "It's the small wins that make life bearable."
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