Why on earth would he want to pee on the potty pad when he can wait five minutes until he’s back in the car and pee all over me.?! Which he did, spectacularly.
So when I got a knock on the door and handed a package addressed to me, I was somewhat taken aback. I hadn’t ordered anything and Bear hadn’t said anything about expecting a package.
Instead he took to running excitedly around our legs, still attached to his harness and lead, barking madly, like there was a cat in the field, demanding more treats. Which of course he did not get.
It’s fun when you learn just how unsupported you are by your own family… again. It seems to be a theme in my life… the shit hits the fan and everyone buggers off and leaves me on my own. Even my own best friend has stayed quiet. Yet again I am Persona Non Grata…
He didn’t have a Satnav back then and couldn’t get Google Maps on his phone, so had written down the road names and numbers. Don’t for a second think it was a sweet, romantic gesture. This is Bear.
The breeze moves the leaves on the wisteria above the window, he barks… a magpie lands on the opposite neighbour’s front steps, he barks… a bug walks across the front path, so tiny I can barely see it, he barks… any movement of any sort by anything and he barks at it.
He’s completely totalled his squeaky bear, ripping holes in it and pulling out the stuffing. I tried to repair it but he wasn’t having it and ripped more holes in it. Poor little bear.
Obviously these days the barbarianism has taken over and people are doing whatever the hell they like with their tea and scones, being all rebellious and shit and thinking they’re cool or hip, or some such nonsense,
Bear and I have decided to use a water pistol for the fence post issues. Nothing else seems to be working and he’s visibly damaged one of the fence posts already.
I’m pretty certain 80’s chic is not a thing and I don’t need him starting a retro trend, it’s bad enough that Hammer pants have made a comeback here in the Netherlands.