Had a good walk today managed to eat a few sticks and some horse manure. T watches me like a hawk to make sure I don’t eat anything I shouldn’t. This is a problem as T’s view of what I shouldn’t eat is very different from mine. Sticks she allows but bones, bits of food, horse manure and dog poo are definitely off limits in T’s book. To me they are delicacies to be savoured.

She reports back to P everything that happens on our walks and lists what I have consumed. Poor man he must think she’s a bit fixated but he listens patiently and knows when to look shocked as T reports my so called “bad behaviour”. The horse manure seemed to have a bit of an effect and I was according to T and P a bit smelly. In other words I had wind and farted most of the day. I managed to do this silently so they had no idea when the next one was coming. T started to call me Mr Whiffy or Pongo Pooch and wave her hands about (she thinks she’s so clever). That seemed to be the signal to P that I had farted. He would pull a face and make a hasty retreat from the room.

I have no problem with farting and am not in the least bit embarrassed about it. T seems to think it is something I shouldn’t do – why? Better out than in. I am not entirely sure that every time I was accused of being Mr Whiffy it was actually me – they must do it too. Fair enough I am guilty at times (sometimes more than others) but I think I am becoming a scapegoat for their bad habits – wouldn’t like to say which one of them it is who is falsely accusing me but I have my suspicions.

False accusations and name calling won’t stop me eating horse manure or anything else I can get my paws on. I think of myself as an adventurous eater and you know what they say sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me.

Just been called Mr Whiffy again and this time it was me, better hide until T stops waving her arms.