Jingle bells! (Christmas Day 2005)

Sorry I've not updated for a while. It's not that we ain't been doing stuff, I've just not had the time... You know bones to chew, smells to sniff etc
Anyway, Hairyface and the Screature took us to Gilcrux again for the Chrimbo thingie (we have been there lots since my last entry but Chrimbo got my goat). The S made us these really flashy collars with silvery stuff and bells and things. They thought we looked a treat. I thought we looked dorky. I mean silver! Pink woulda been a much better colour. Gone with the fur a treat, but no, silver it was.

Did they itch? You betcha. Like buggery as Hairyface would say.
I hate that first picture. I'd just snaffled this stupid bug on my nose as HF snapped. Would he delete it? Obviously not. Anyway, as you can see, here are Io and me by Crummock (again) on the way to the Kirkstile (again) to meet with HF's chums Kate and Andy for lunch, wearing the damned collars.
What do we look like? [DON'T ANSWER THAT!]
Io was sort of OK in hers as it got lost in her fur quite a bit and the bells were muffled but mine!!

We tried everything we could think of to lose them but they'd been sew on to the collars, and to add insult to injury, HF took 'em off when we got in the car anyway so we couldn't give 'em a good old scritching while he wasn't there. Humans!
Still, we got a shed load of stuff from the guy in the red suit. more chews and stuff to feed a kennel. Only snag is, it seems to be being rationed. It's as though they don't trust us with all those goodies at once. I mean... as if?
Ok yeah, we'd stuff ourselves to bursting and then be sick. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Still, HF took us all over the place for the whole fortnight of their holiday. He was dead chuffed with being first up Lord's Seat and Barf on New Year's Day. We loved it cos it was right sunny and there's loads of mud up there.
There wasn'ta soul about until we got nearly back to the big wooden hut, where Hairy had parked, when all these gimps in lycra appeared (and I'm not talking about women here, either) clutching bits of plasticy paper and running round like a dog that's smelled sick somewhere. Well, I mean, it's a good job He doesn't wear that lycra stuff. Imagine all them wobbly bits migrating! It was enough to make us forget our collars. It's good sometimes that he's a b.o.f. (boring old fart).

He wouldn't let us go and play in the snow on Skiddaw but he took our piccie in front of it. I bet there weren't many people in lycra up there.

I'll try and catch up soon with all that went on between September and Chrimbo. Luckily now the collars have gone.

Yippie.