Captain Midnight here.
All I can say is that he had it coming…
We had a nice walk on Charmouth Beach this afternoon. Except that himself kept chucking tennis balls, which meant that I had to do a lot of running around to make sure they didn’t get lost. Sometimes they went into the sea and I had to swim for them. He’s either a rotten shot or he does it on purpose. I think he likes to see me get wet!
Every time I brought one back to him he chucked another one. Perhaps he’s just a bit slow to catch on? We got back to the car with a full quota of balls and then we drove to Bridport where we went into a hat shop and three women made a fuss of me. Himself says I’m a babe magnet but I’ve no idea what that means.
When we got home he looked at my belly and said I had fleas. The cheek of it! The next thing I knew, I was standing in the bath tub covered in lather with the power-shower at full blast. He said it was for my own good but I didn’t like it much. I jumped out and he chased me round the flat waving a towel. That was fun.
Then he undressed (not a pretty sight, I can tell you) filled the bath with hot water and got into it. Why he’d want to do that is beyond me but he seemed happy enough. He lit a stinky-candle and lay back, eyes half-closed, with a glass of red stuff in his hand.
That’s when I used my ninja powers to sneak back into the bathroom and liberate a sock. It’s a bit of a mystery why I’m drawn to his socks. I may well be the only living creature not utterly repelled by them. I took it into the sitting room and gave it a serious nibble. I thought he’d be amused by the avant-garde new design but judging by the fuss he made he’s not got much fashion sense. In the end, I told him he and his sock had it coming for covering me in soap and turning the fire hose on me.
He called me a vandal and a sock thief.
Can you believe it?