Come into the Garden

By aprecious

Cookers and that.

"The New Age? It's just the old age stuck in a microwave oven for fifteen seconds."
James Randi

It's early, the sun is shining and I am sitting next to an oven? Why? Because I am a dog. And like most dogs I like to be hot. I am a hot dog.

(Not a 'hot dog' obviously. I'd have two giant bits of bread either side of me, and a line of mustard down the middle of my head. And that wouldn't be possible as I would have eaten it - or would be eating it. And also hot dogs aren't actually made of dogs. They're made of something else. In this New Age you can even get vegetarian hot dogs. What is the world coming to? Although to be fair I would eat those too. I eat anything. I am a dog.)

No. I am hot. And I am a dog. It is also hot. I am hoping that this means that any second now I'll be going to a place with water and doing a lot of throwing myself in.

Hope springs eternal in the canine heart. I am trying out the cute standing near the Aga look I perfected as a small puppy. See Little Maud Think it will work?


It's a beautiful day but I have to do a few bits of work I didn't manage last week. Too many meetings, and not all of them useful. But useful enough.

And finally, the last in the mini-series of mother sayings. Again, if you're easily offended look away now... If, when eating hot food, you said, not unreasonably, "It's hot" - she would always shoot back the reply, "You sit with your ar*e in the oven, and you'd be hot too." You can't get anything past my mother.

It seems that Maud has always sat in this slightly splayed way. How funny. I think her ears are still her very best bit.

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