Chewed Slippers

I think it was Freddy Mercury who sang “I want to break free-ee …”. Dangerous words to bandy about when there are MTV addicted canines about.

You see the story unfolds thus.

As we ambled leisurely into Kensington Park, I spied a couple of nonchalant squirrels on the horizon, basking in the afternoon sun. Fools, I thought. Enjoy your moment you little scoundrels, for your day of reckoning will come soon. And sooner than they thought.

As soon as Dad unleashed me, the chase was on. I made a mad dash in their direction, convinced that this was finally going to be MY day. However, they had clearly made provisions for such a blatant and badly planned attack. After some confusing eye contact and whisker movements, they were off! And in different directions!

Well the one I went after was straight up a tree and, recognising that my climbing skills don’t quite live up to my waddling-hurriedly capabilities, I turned round in pursuit of the other little blighter. Or so I thought. I ran and ran and only managed to find new depths of my lungs that I didn’t realise I had, rather than anything furry.

Dejected, but not altogether surprised, I turned back to see what the folks were up to. But they were already on their way out of the gates!

So after I tackled the human slalom course in the busy park and finally made my way onto the pavement, just outside the gates, I realised it wasn’t even them at all. Worse still, I was surrounded by zooming cars, beeping buses and grumpy old men shouting at me to buy newspapers (I mean, what I would I do with a newspaper … there’s just no thought provoking commentary anyway).

It was all getting a bit much, and memories of my time as a discarded Christmas puppy on the streets came rushing back to haunt me. Thankfully, a nice lady nearby could see that I was getting a bit nervy and came over to help. She put a lead on me and took me over to some policemen by the park entrance. It wasn’t long before I heard my Dad’s voice. Phew … what a relief! But when he came running towards me his face was all red and wet and he nearly suffocated me when he knelt down and wrapped his arms around me. Mum was the same … more emotional than I was!

We went and sat under a tree and I’m sure I heard Mum say that my squirrel hunting days are over. I can’t think why.

When is a dog coat a parka?

I’ve also been testing out a new pressie recently. It’s a cool doggy coat with a hood … aka the Dandy Parka. Frankly, I’m not sure it’s having the desired effect. No, I’m getting more *falls about laughing* than *goes weak at the knees with desire*. Still, it keeps the rain off and, I’m told, is impossibly cute. Which isn’t bad for a fatty like me.

Licks and wags,
Chunky Chunkster x

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