I have a horrible feeling that events are conspiring against me this week. Somebody up there is out to teach me a lesson. As they say on ‘Pushing Daisies’, the facts are these:
Bogsey, aged 40 years, 16 days, 7 hours and 42 minutes, is eagerly anticipating a meeting. An important meeting with a blond, name as yet unknown. No, not a 40th birthday present from his mates – rather, a guide-dog, - at long last, a potential match.
Meanwhile, a nasty little stomach bug is working its way through the Bogsey family – Mrs B and the two little Bs are already suffering the effects, and I have a horrible feeling that its inevitable journey to my bowel will coincide with a my important meeting.
This could make for an interesting day. I may have to spend the morning trying to make sure the house smells ok – I don’t want to be refused the dog because of fears about the cleanliness of the house! Assuming the dog doesn’t take a sniff and turn its nose up, I then have to take it for a little walk, mainly to check its speed. That could be interesting. My speed might be a little variable and if I’m caught short it will have to be a greyhound to keep up with me. Perhaps it would be wise to take a couple of extra poo-bags with me.