WEEK 8 - Dead Squirrel

This weeks story starts on my daily recreational perambulation...

The Scene:

In a quiet country lane a man walks a small dog on a long lead.

I spot a motionless squirrel on the grassy verge. He's is nice looking little chap, quite dead. He has that clenched look on his face and looks full of flavour. I'm just just giving him the once over with my tongue when...

Mr Blog: "STOP - BAD DOG!"

I move my weight squirrelwards to counter the force on my lead that is imminent. My legs and shoulders tense, I drop my center of gravity, I ready myself with all the poise of an Olympic gymnast.

I lunge for my little friend.

At the same instant Mr Blog my 'owner' yanks my lead. It's close, but alas! Too late. I am dragged down they lane in protest without my prize.

I look up at my owner.

"BUT THAT WAS A SQUIRREL!" That is why we come on walks - to find squirrels!.

He ignores me. I sulk. That was my squirrel, I found it. I turn my head and mournfully look back. Nothing wrong with that squirrel. Why did we leave it behind?

See if humans don't like germs they why the woof do they go into hospitals? The place is full of germs and stuff. Even worse they go into the patient lounge and handle the TV remote. Woofing woof woof that is crawling with germs. They might as well be holding a squirrel!

Then there are Pharmacies. Only sick people go there and then they use the pen in the little pot on the counter to sign stuff. Woof, don't even think of touching anything after using those pens, and certainly don't use that hand to pop a pill into your mouth. As you might as well be licking a dead squirrel.

Fat Dog says - Remember to take you own pen to the Pharmacy next time you go to get at prescription and have to sign something.