It started to leak fluffy bits. Mom tried to fix it but it was a waste of time. It just sprouted a new hole and leaked some more.
One day I looked at the now rather skinnier bed and gave her the evil eye.
Seriously! Are you wanting your precious doglet to sleep on the floor?
Ag Fudges, she exclaimed. Don’t be ridiculous – this is still nice and fat and comfy. I’m waiting for the Petz Bed people to come back to the mall and I’ll get you another one.
Sometimes, when I dangled my snout over the edge of my baskie, the fluffy white stuff would make me sneeze and snort. Worse than my own Fudge hair. So I decided to help and made the hole a tad larger. Naturally that was day when a teensy tornado gusted round the top stoep. It looked like several sheep had been sheared. (She puts my baskie out each day for me to lie on.)
Mom had no option but to get me a new baskie.
They went off and came back with a brown one.
Brown? I’m a girl. Was there no pink or purple or maybe nice sea green?
Pfft, said Mom. Dogs can’t see colours. Don’t be such an ungrateful mutt. Get in there and try it out.
Sniffed it… perhaps not hey.
So that ridiculous woman got into the baskie and sat down.
Slobbered on her. Oi! You’ve got your own chairs. Get out. I gave her the nose.
She patted a mingy space beside her. Come on Fudgie-wena. I share my chair with you – you can share your baskie with me.
So Mom and I admired the view from my new baskie.
It’s not too shabby – has a cushion that goes inside and I can bury my balls down the side. Make sure nobody filches them whilst I’m napping. Sometimes I forget where I’ve stashed them and then all hell breaks loose.
One night she arranged my bed next to her bed – like she always does. I got in and perched on the cushion.
Why do you look so darn uncomfortable? Asked Mom. I stared at her. Then she burst out laughing. Ooops! I forgot your duvet and it’s chilly.
She arranged the duvet on top of the cushion. I snuggled down. Aaahhh… that’s better.
* As told to Ginny Stone.
