t the end of the week it's going to be wintery, I don't care, I'm a stone dog, I don't feel the cold. The leaves will blow about the garden, I can chase them. I hope it snows, I can jump up and bite snowflakes. You've no idea what I get up to when missus isn't looking. Mind, she knows more about stone animals than she should. She talks to me. That's how I know. Excuse me while I have a good scratch...
There was that day with the wren. Missus came into the sitting room and thought 'that little wren looks as if it's in the conservatory'. Then she realised that the wren really was in the conservatory, so she and the chap with the beard went round opening doors and windows to let little Jenny out. Then afterwards they went round trying to work out how Jenny Wren got in there the first place.
Later, she came to me and Oliver and said, 'Oliver, Dodger, do you know anything about the wren getting into the conservatory?' Course we didn't? How could we? We're made of stone, so how could Oliver be giggling fit to burst the buttons off his jacket? And as for me, I always look innocent. That's my trouble, I look so innocent they wonder what I've been up to. Then she saw a weed that needed pulling up and forgot about it.
And she never did find out.
4 comments:
Dear, dear Dodger dog! I remember once a sparrow wound up in our yellow house. She zipped straight to our Christmas wreath, and perched there quite contentedly. It really was quite lovely! Though I'm afraid we had to usher her out...the skies are much friendlier places for birds!
Yes, I'm just glad that there was somebody around when she got in. I wouldn't like a bird to be trapped in there.
Yellow House?
Our house is eye-burningly, unashamedly-bright yellow with white trim...inside and out! It's rather a cheerful place to call home.
It sounds like sunshine!
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