The ladies of the house have kindly allowed Ben, who lives with Diana and Andre, who run himself’s website, to give his view from the pen.
Thank you ladies. For a start, I do wish you had exercised some measure of restraint upon the little snipey tripe hound during his formative days that I seem have been landed with. His name is Fidel, one of the sons of Bitsy, and I am given to understand that at one stage, himself had doubts about him surviving for long as he was a bit of a runt and was having problems getting to his mum’s milk. He not only survived but has grown into a bit of a jumping jack flash and is now running rings round me.
He arrived a couple of weeks back and within a couple days the cheeky beast was stealing the food from out of my mouth. I would take a big bite of something and then find that there seemed to be less of it when I got it onto my molar teeth than I thought there should be. As Fidel is such a wee one I hadn’t noticed him sneaking in under my chin and doing his snatch and grab in the early days but I am more careful now and keep and eagle eye out for him.
Every time I leave my quarters, my steps are now dogged by this little mite and he keeps pop corning all over the place, reminding me that I am no longer the younger spring chicken that I once was.
Click on images for a larger view!
He is a pain in the butt! He has moved in without a by your leave and seems to think I should be grateful for his company. Mind you, he has a similar coat to mine, he is as good looking as I am, I have to admit. Hmm..., I wonder if they’ll think I’m his dad. Hmm..., I like that. That’s my boy!
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