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Rustling a few feathers

Like most Spaniels, I love my grub. And I’m not particularly discriminating when it comes to treats either.

I did very well at Christmas. I had a lovely chew bone from my friend Sam, who wrapped it up beautifully, although my humans could not rip the paper off fast enough for me to get to it. Our neighbours gave me some special dog chocolate, and my humans gave me a big bone full of tasty marrow.

I got an extra-special dinner on Christmas day with chunks of chicken, pigs in blankets and delicious gravy, and every Sunday I get gravy and bits of meat from the Sunday roast mixed in with my biscuits, which I can’t resist. My humans laugh at how quickly I gobble it down, but it’s a highlight of the culinary week for me.

I don’t do street food. I know lots of dogs will eat anything going on the pavement, but one does have to have some standards. However, I do enjoy hoovering up anything that’s accidentally dropped on our kitchen floor, such as a bit of grated cheese, and this week I discovered a new source of temptation – the garden.

My humans regularly put out food for the birds. Most of it goes in feeders they hang from the branches of the apple tree but one of them can’t have closed properly because the fat balls ended up on the grass. How could I resist?

I also discovered that if I stretch myself up on my back legs, I can just about reach the branch where they put out bacon rind, chunks of stale bread and cake and even the odd soft biscuit. I thought I’d got away with this, but I got spotted through the kitchen window and now the bits are being put up on a higher branch. However, they do tend to blow off in the wind, so I’ve taken to lying under that particular branch in the hope of a morsel.

I can see which way the wind’s blowing – and that feathered lot can whistle for it!


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