So, there I was, having a lovely snooze – I was chasing squirrels in the gardens of Buckingham Palace, it were right grand an’all – when blow me down, if I didn’t hear the strangest noise. It sounded all, like, snotty and undignified.
I leapt off the bed and padded through to the office. There she was, wringing her hands and wailing in front of the laptop.
‘What the blooming heck is wrong this time?’ I barked, leaping onto my favourite chair.
She looked over at me. You’ve never seen a face like it. Well, you probably have, seeing as she constantly posts photos here, I mean, give me a break, who needs to see that many dresses? Or her noggin? Anyway, it wasn’t a pretty sight. All red and blotchy.
‘Ella!’ she cried.
‘That’s my name, don’t wear it out.’ I’d been awake for two minutes and she STILL hadn’t given me breakfast. ‘Come on, spill.’
‘I just don’t know how … I can’t … I mean…’ She was doing that crying thing again. ‘I don’t know how to make everyone feel better.’
‘Is that all? Come on.’ I circled a paw through the air for her to hand the laptop over.
She slid it onto the dog table and opened the screen. ‘What are you … doing?’ She stared as my paws started to fly across the keyboard.
‘Don’t worry,’ I told her. ‘I’ll make it sound like it’s you writing. Just like I always do. Now, go get me breakfast. And whilst you’re at it, light me a goddamn cigar.’
She shuffled off, all pathetic like, and I started writing…