He gets fed twice a day, morning and evening, and he is a creature of habit. If it is a minute past five he’ll let you know that he should’ve been fed by now. Unless of course it is raining outside, or a little windy, in which case you really should bring his bowl inside. Bloody soft lump of a mutt that he is.
And it doesn’t help that we are all spoiling him lately. On account of his injured back. We’ve been being nice to him and letting him come into the kitchen and letting him have little treats so he is utterly convinced that he can do no wrong at the moment.
Including walking in front of de brudders when they were experimenting with a shot-putt, no wonder the mutt has a bad back
Hmm, I was supposed to be revealing his fibbing ways, and his increasing response of “I’m so terribly sorry, but I simply didn’t hear you when you screamed my name. Now where’s my Markie?” But look, I’ll cunningly disguise my lack of details by showing you Sean Óg:
* Irish may be incorrect. Vidjo borrowed from slipperyorangeballco