A Day of Rest

Me: Look at my Big Brave Beautiful Boy. He’s exhausted. Bless him.

Nell: Let him sleep.

Me: He and Rhubarb were amazing. She looked lovely in her tiara. Almost as good as you.

Nell: Tiaras suit us ladies of a certain size.

Me: Knitwear Wolf certainly swept Myfanwy off her feet.

Nell: I wouldn’t say that, but they were excellent.

Me: Lionel King was ever so rude. Roaring at everyone in a most unpleasant way.

Nell: He’s still smarting from the loss of the jewellery box.

Me: At least he’s stocked up on ready meals.

Nell: True.

Me: Poppy is cooking the roast in her ballgown. Maybe she’s finally discovered her feminine side.

Nell: I sincerely doubt it. She’s wearing a leather biker’s jacket over the top with ‘Boss’ sequinned on the back.

Me: Stephen Seagull lost a few feathers again but he held his own this week.

Nell: Waltzing with Poppy requires a certain amount of bravery.

Me: Especially when she’s carrying a sword in her teeth.

Nell: Yes.

Me: Who’s in danger of being in the dance off?

Nell: Manuel had trouble with his tentacles again so he has to be at risk and Jim the Farm Dog seemed a little distracted. I felt his heart wasn’t really in it this week.

Me: I think he might be a little jealous of Harriet and Beauregard.

Nell: Jim should know better. Harriet is not the kind of Labrador to have her head turned by a tiger.

Me: No. Her heart still belongs to Jim.

Nell: Anyway, enough talk of dancing. Let’s just enjoy the pleasures of a Sunday.

Me: Yes. The delicious smell of Poppy’s roast beef with just a hint of Yorkshire pudding.

Nell: I was talking about the sound of the Welsh Corgi Choir.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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