Sometimes I feel as if I am living in a very bizarre world. Yesterday evening, I was rather alarmed to find that a new dog had been introduced to the household. Instantly fearful of being supplanted in my partner's affections, I had trouble controlling my patience as I addressed the upstart newcomer. He was a remarkably handsome fellow, I must say, but he didn't have much to say for himself. I attempted to engage him in a variety of interesting topics, but could get no response from any of them.
After several minutes of stilted and unanswered conversation, I realised that there was something even more troubling about this mysterious new stranger, and this shocked me to my very core. The new dog had no scent. Nothing whatsoever that might give me a clue to his origin, his status or his intentions met my nostrils. I was deeply suspicious of the chap, and even more concerned by his alarming proximity to my store of toys and chews.
Well, I felt that I had tried my best with the fellow, despite his aloof manner, and so turned away from him. I was then faced with the undignified sight of my household, including Dolores, convulsed with laughter. I stared in disbelief at my beloved Dolores, wondering what had been even remotely funny about the new, and frankly rather rude, Staffordshire in my home. "Jasper, you duffer." said Dolores - "that's your own reflection in the fireside that you've been snuffling at." I spun around and, sure enough, the new dog had almost entirely disappeared from view, apart from a tiny portion of his bottom which was so beautiful it can only have been mine. I gave a stifled cough to try and hide my embarrassment. My partner's father only served to make things worse.
"I think you've finally lost it, Jasper." he said. But I haven't. I checked, and it's still under the settee where I always keep it. What does he mean?
Not to worry. Around the World with Jasper - Part 10 is here to cheer me: