Oops! I’m in twubble again!

It seems that getting into a spot of twubble is a skill I have mastered over the last few years. I don’t know why I get into twubble, after all I am rarely doing anything wrong. The other weekend it all started so well and I really thought I was going to be ok. You see, we went to visit Uncle Don (see the photo – I’m the good looking one on the left) and I had a luvely time. It took foreeeeever to get there! The motorway was really, really busy and everyone was panicking about fuel. There was no fuel on the M25, none on the M3, none on the M4, none on the M40, it was all a bit of a problem. Not that I actually knew any of this because I decided that the best way to deal with the journey was to push out a few 💤s. To be honest, they told me about the fuel shortage but when I did look out of the window I could see it was true. Uncle Don had told him that Tescos at Flitwick had fuel and there were no queues. He didn’t believe a word of it but it turned out when we got there that it was true. Daddy Richard popped into Tesco for a few essential supplies (mainly incohol as far as I could tell, there was nothing for me!) and he went round to the petrol station. It turned out there were no queues and he just drove in, filled up and drove out again. Daddy Richard was taking his time because he thought there would be queues, so he had to phone him to tell him to come back to the car thingy!

Uncle Don has a bit garden so I was able to run up and down and have a luvely time chasing a ball and things. I even found that if I brought the ball back when it had been thrown that they would do it again. It was great fun! Uncle Don has squirrels in his garden but they kept well out of my way, so I didn’t bother to try and catch them. When it got a bit later, Uncle Don put the barbecue on and started cooking dinner. I was rather pleased that he had slightly over catered since I was pretty sure this would work in my favour! And it did. After they had eaten their dinner, I got the left over burger etc., all very nice indeed. So, the weekend all looked rather spiffing. We were going to stay overnight at Uncle Don’s and then on the Sunday we were going to go to a special place called the Forest of Marston Vale. What could possibly go wrong? As afternoon became evening we transferred into the house where I found a very comfortable spot to lay down with Daddy Richard. I don’t know what he was up to – he seemed to be faffing around in my opinion but although I did look up to investigate I decided I couldn’t be bothered so I gave up.

I suppose I should really explain a little about Uncle Don. You see, Daddy Richard was friends with Uncle Don even before he met him. That was about a million years ago. Uncle Don has spent New Year’s Eve with them every year over the last 33 years except one … New Year’s Eve last year because the Blond Potato cancelled it! Uncle Don was with them for New Year’s Eve when they lived in Spain, he was with them when they had a house in France – even once when they suddenly realised at lunchtime on New Year’s Eve that they had forgotten to invite him, so they phoned Uncle Don and a few hours later he arrived at their French house in time for a New Year’s Eve dinner! A few years after they met, he got a job (thanks to Uncle Don) working at the same company as Uncle Don and so they worked together for a few years. Uncle Don is actually quite old though, I found an age calculator on the Tinternet and I reckon (although it isn’t an exact science) that Uncle Don is around 480 dog years old!! So, you see, Uncle Don has been part of their lives for a very long time. And although he is ancient, he still moves faster than the two of them put together!!!

So, where was I? Oh yes, twubble. On Sunday morning we all got up and I had my breakfast whilst he cooked breakfast for the three of them – well I say ‘cooked’, what I should say is he applied some heat to some perfectly good raw bacon, sausage and eggs and completely ruined them, however, for some reason he calls that cooking! It turns out that he can’t eat eggs as they are a massive trigger for his IBS (don’t ask!) which they sort of suspected before he cooked the breakfast but they definitely now know afterwards!! Anyway, that has nothing to do with the twubble. So, after we had all had breakfast and timing it so that they could get lunch there, we all went off to the Forest of Marston Vale forestry centre. Apparently there are loads of good walks there, so it seemed ideal. What could be better? We arrived and walked past the visitor centre and Uncle Don said that they could let me off lead, so they did. What Uncle Don had failed to tell them (primarily because he didn’t know) was that there was a very smelly muddy stream nearby. Well it would have been rude not to investigate it wouldn’t it? That was where the twubble started. I popped in to see what it was like and when I got out again I had slightly muddy legs!

I don’t know what all the fuss was about! My legs were only a little bit muddy and if you stayed upwind of me the smell wasn’t that bad! So, there I was, in twubble again. I decided that the best way of dealing with it was to stay out of the way for a little while so, whilst I made sure I always knew where they were, (I think the risk of being left behind at that particular moment was pretty high in my current state) I kept a low profile. Mind you, it was that low profile that got me into even more twubble. You see, whilst I was keeping a low profile I found some horses poo on the bridle path … well, what was I supposed to do? I had a little roll around in it. Well, honestly, I mean the language!! I don’t know what he expected – I would have thought he would have been pleased – the smell of horses poo was masking the smell of the stream a bit. To be honest, it probably would have ended there but then, whilst keeping a low profile, I discovered a big pile of cow’s poo. Well, what was I supposed to do? I had a little roll around to mask the smell of the stream and the horses poo – apparently that was not what I was supposed to do!

When we got back to Uncle Don’s I was thoroughly hosed down. When we left a bit later to go home, they were moaning that they could still smell me. It was hardly my fault! The journey home wasn’t so bad and we made it in good time. What was the first thing they did when we got home? Yep, you guessed it, another flamin’ hosing down. Did it work? Not really. There was still a faint aroma of cow’s poo when I went to my new groomer on the Tuesday afterwards. I’ve been having a spot of bother recently with groomers. I used to go to Chloe but she moved away. Then I went to Maria but now she’s sold the business, so they’ve been looking for somewhere for me to go. He had found Chic Grooming (https://www.chic-grooming.co.uk) on the Tinternet and so I went there. Anita, Jasmine and Charlotte are lovely and I got loads of attention. They managed to get all trace of cow’s poo out of me and when they had finished I was back to being the handsomest dog in dogdom! I really liked it there and even he was happy, so I hope I’ll be going back there when I need another bath. That said, I am not sure I want to be in that much twubble for a while!

So, now that I have had a luvely bath and I’m all clean again, I’m trying to keep out of twubble for a while. He has been doing quite a lot of that ‘cooking’ thing he does because it is rumoured that we might be going on holiday again and they want to have some meals ready for when we go. He has also started putting photos of some of the food that he cooks on this thing called ‘Instagram’ which I think is an inferior human equivalent of Tardypound the far superior social media platform of the doggy world. He keeps accusing me of photo bombing his photos but that’s rubbish. Talking of rubbish. This fuel shortage has been a bit rubbish. The Blond Potato told everyone not to panic buy, so everyone went and panic bought because everyone knows how reliable his word is! OK, so we have fuel shortages, food shortages, supply chain problems, we can’t harvest or move crops grown here, immigration has got worse and there is absolutely no solution to the Northern Ireland Protocol which will almost certainly lead to troubles starting again, but it has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with Brexit. The Blond Potato says so! Anyway, enough of this, all this thinking is flamin’ tiring and I’m cream crackered. I must go and push out a few more 💤s so, for now, must paws … 🐾