BERTS BLOG: Look into my eyes, look into my eyes, you want to go out, you want to go out, you want to take me for a walk, you do, you do….. Bother – it didn’t work! Rain, sleet and north wind outside and the Mrs and Boss ensconced in the sitting room with the fire going, the TV showing another incomprehensible ball game and me trying to engage their brains into getting some attention or more precisely giving me some more walks…. Not a hope, especially not in this weather!
Actually I am looking forward to a good rest after the ‘season’, the pheasants are now safely looking for partners and testing their bravery on the roads and even teasing the Boss by appearing in our garden cockahooping in the safe knowledge they are strictly off limits until they become fair game again in the autumn. Such beautiful birds and also extremely tasty. I only mention their delicious flavour because of a recent incident whereby the Mrs invited me into the kitchen area – a pastime not normally allowed – and to share their Sunday afternoon in the sitting room – very special.
It was during the last shooting day of the season when the Boss was given the dubious celebratory task of cooking the Sunday dinner – pheasant – when the said incident took place while he was wrestling the extra fat butter he always uses for cooking out of the refrigerator. Despite me and the Mrs telling him that olive oil is better for him he flatly refuses to eat anything remotely healthy and it was this cursory comment on his internal wellbeing that made him twist round to offer a non-healthy rebuke resulting in a loss of physical dexterity and a number of eggs being knocked from their nestling area in the ‘frig.
After the Mrs had surveyed the damage on the floor and delivered ‘the look’ at the Boss she called me into the normally out of bounds area of the kitchen to clear up the mess (I love her). Carefully licking around the cracked shells which the Mrs picked up, I swiftly and efficiently cleared the floor area of any evidence of the Boss’ little accident. It was then suggested by the Mrs as a reward to me for being so helpful that she and I repair to the sitting room to watch a suitable Sunday afternoon programme which did not involve a spherical object and leave the Boss alone to get ‘cracking’ with the last pheasant dinner of the season by himself. Sometimes she is such a good egg!
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