Heavy is the head that wears the canine crown. Well, someone had to pay.
I returned from a job yesterday to find yet another steaming pile of doo-doos in the house, this time in the hall. It wasn't me - a simple case of non-presence. It wasn't my soon-to-be ex-spouse either - same defence. A quick glance round my four dogs after they had greeted me and I was met, from each in turn, by the canine equivalent of looking away and whistling.
I now have a set routine for dealing with this increasing problem. Henry, the leader of the pack, is shown the error of someone's ways by five minutes in the Naughty Corner. Once his sin-binning is over and my back is turned I leave him to "sort things out" with the others - he is quite good at kicking ass when it is needed.
Quite how this has any bearing on Grantham I'm not sure. I was bored. I panicked. Sue me.
2 comments:
Have thought of having the poo dna tested to identify the culprit, when I was a burgalar thats how the rozzers got me.
It's a fair crap, but society's to blame.
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