Was put in the tub of doom again this Sunday, it happens every weekend now. I haven’t been well but this doesn’t stop them, although now it’s a shower not a bath, which for some reason they think is better. Been on hunger strike since Saturday in protest, hasn’t made any difference. You’d think they’d take pity on me and leave me alone when I’ve just recovered from a temperature of 103 but no T prepared the torture chamber. I went into the garden for sanctuary but T found me and like the condemned dog I had to walk (very slowly) to the tub of doom and await my fate, which in this case is a shower.
The only one I have to turn to is P, which means there is no hope of rescue; T has no heart and P has no courage. Just call me Toto, never Dorothy.
Poor you. I hate the shower, I had to have one today because apparently I smell. Well, it was only a little fox poo dabbed behind the ears but they really didn't appreciate it.
Bad news from me. Daffy wasn't just jaundiced - she had liver cancer. She got really poorly so one day they put her in the car and I never saw her again. I cried and cried as I'd never ever been on my own since I left my mum and Daffy had always looked after me.
I now have to look after Dotty who came here a week ago. I wasn't happy to start with but I have to admit I quite like the company. I have to tell her off now and then when she wants me to play and I don't want to but I'm instructing her on all the dastardly deeds that spaniels like to get up to.