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  • Writer's pictureWhisper

In the dog house

It all started so well. I’d been fed, my humans had finished their evening meal and the dishwasher was churning away in the kitchen. The sitting room curtains were drawn against the dark, chilly evening, the lamps were lit and the fire was crackling away.

I was dozing on the rug in front of the hearth, thinking how cosy it all seemed, when I realised I was getting a bit too. I stretched out and decided to have a stroll around the sitting room. I had a quick sniff around the table in case anyone had dropped a titbit – no such luck! – and a scratch at the matting by the front door. The stuff fascinates me although I get told off if I scratch away at it for too long, so tonight I only had a quick go before I decided to settle down at the bottom of the stairs.

Just as I lay down, I got a real need to have a scratch behind my ear. I must have got a bit carried away because the next thing I knew, the candelabra on the floor fell over, the candles – not lit, fortunately – went flying, crashed onto the coffee table, hit the laptop, which fell to the floor with a bang, followed by the vase of flowers. Petals, leaves and water went everywhere.

No harm was done, it appeared, but the peace had been shattered and my nerves were frazzled. If I was going to be in the dog house, I thought it best if I put myself there. I stayed in my bed in the kitchen for the rest of the evening – and I will be very careful next time I indulge in any personal grooming.

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