Dogsitting

We looked after my Dad’s dog Holly over the weekend. You may remember that Holly actually used to be our dog, and it was surprising how quickly we fell back into having her around the house. For Evan it was all a new experience however. He took great enjoyment crawling around after her and pulling out great clumps of fur from her ears, and Holly was admirably stoic in her tolerance.

Every now and again however Holly would hear what she took to be a horde of thieves and murders outside, and go on a bit of a barking spree. This sudden sound terrified poor Evan and he would burst into panicked frightened tears. Despite our reassurances that the alleged thieves and murders were actually only the postman he would be totally inconsolable for two or three minutes, only calming down when distracted by spotting some revolting object to stick in his mouth. As a result we tried to keep Holly as quiet as possible.

“I’m just going to take Holly and the kids out for a W. A. L. K.” I told Kerry, spelling out the final word so as to avoid the dog twigging what was on the cards and going bananas.

Amy looked up. “Yes. Daddy and me are going to take Holly on a D. I. U. Cock”.

“A what?!” I asked her, trying not to catch Kerry’s eye.

“D. I. U. Cock” she repeated exasperated. “It means a walk Daddy”

Now I know I’m dyslexic, but I’m sure that’s not quite right.