I wasn’t impressed this weekend. I feel violated, invaded. My inner sanctum desecrated. ‘Why?!’ I hear you cry, with your thoughts of burglary and fears for my safety at the fore of your mind. I’m afraid it is really rather worse; my in laws came and stayed for the weekend.
Of course, they are my grandparents – but they are called in-laws so colloquially in my household that the term simply endears itself to me. I suppose I like it in some ways, deep down, but I don’t like my castle being disturbed. My bed gets moved, there are bedroom doors closed in my face and extra cups of tea to burn my tail with. Of course there are positives – I help myself to a little extra food from my grandmother and I jump on the guest bed to lick a few extra faces.
It wasn’t long after their arrival that I made the decision to take them all out, frankly they all get a little noisy trying to talk over each other and I find it frustratingly annoying, so I took them to my favourite place – the pub. I only really intended to take them out for a splash of food and a couple of pints, but as soon as the amber liquid hits the back of my throat I’m a sucker for staying out for more – so we did. Lots more, in fact, to the point that my grandmother practically had to be carried home by me! (No easy feat for a Labrador, I can assure you, I normally just tie a lead round her hand and drag her back).
It’s all ok now though, the house is quiet again – my Dad has gone back to work for the week (thank goodness he works away, I couldn’t deal with having to look after that moronic idiot all of the time), and I can concentrate on the important things again. Eating, sleeping, barking at anyone who comes to the door. (I know they don’t like that one, I just do it to scare the shit out of them).