The clouds on the horizon promised nothing but a very wet experience down at the Bay, as I drove home along the South Western motorway. I was definitely not looking forward to my ‘drenching,’ but then again, my choice was either get wet or endure a manic Jack Russell that had not been walked; going into an evening of relaxation would be a far-off dream under those circumstances.
I parked the car and headed on inside. A little black and white face observed my every move, form inside the house. Maybe she would refuse to go out in the rain, which by now had fulfilled its promise. Yes, it was descending in driving sweeps. Who in their right mind would venture out into such a conflagration? Why, Perdy with a reluctant me of course.
I entered my home and was met with a sight that indicated that ‘someone had been very naughty. It wasn’t me ’her face claimed. A plastic bag had been torn to shreds in an attempt to retrieve the tempting morsels within---a bag of doggie treats; in this case, chicken jerky, one of Perdy’s favourites. I use them to entice her back to the car, when she feels that I have not exercised her enough. ‘Enough’ is a very elastic word, from her point of view. She may as well say—‘I will come when I am damn well ready!’
The contents of the bag were not to be seen, not without a certain medical divise, that is. They were safely stored inside Perdy. She had a very satisfied look on her face. There is no point in showing displeasure at unseen acts of Perdyness--- what’s the point?
I suppose she expected forgiveness, but judging by the farts on the way down to the Bay; well, let’s just say that she really needed the exercise. Her fullness did not slow her down but she didn’t eat dinner that night.
Oh well--- one must learn to store the ‘goodies in placed beyond the reaches of a certain Jack Russell.